You are on page 1of 216

263.

ON

THE MAGICAL ELEMENTS


IN

WITH ANALOGUES.

By W. A. CLOUSTON,
.A UTROR 011' 'POPULAR 'I'ALES AND THEIR MIGRATIONS
AND TRANSIt'ORMATIONS,' ETC.
264

Call up h,iJ}l 1'vho left llCt/f told


Tile story of (}ambuscan bold,
Of Camball an,d of Algarsife,
And wlto Itad Can/ace to wife,
Tllat own'd tlte virtuo'lls ring and glass,
And of the wondrous Itorse of brass
On whicll the Tartar king did ride.
265

PREFATORY N01'E.

IN all probability the following papers ,vould never have been


written, but for Dr. Furnivall. While engaged in finishing the
Chaucer Analogues (so far as ,ye thought it advisable to proceed, in
the meantime), I ,vas relninded by a note to John Lane's Tom Tell
Troth's Message, reprinted for the Ne\v Shakspere Society, that the
same worthy had had the hardihood to write a "Continuation" of
the Squire's Tale, and that it exists in t,vo 1\ISS. of different dates,
preserved at Oxford. Thinking that John Lane Inay have ,vorked
into his "Continuation" some incidents and episodes froIn mediooval
ronlances, and perhaps also fronl popular tales, which might be of
interest to me, I made inquiry of Dr. Furnivall as to the nature of
that composition, and asked \vhether it were practicable for me to
obtain an outline of it; at the sanle tilne offering, if it were printed
for the Chaucer Society, to furnish son1e notes on the Squire's Tale
itself. In reply, Dr. Furnivall said that he felt sure Lane's 'York
contained nothing likely to be of uee to me in ID y special line of
study, but as it would have to be prInted for the Society son1e time, .
it luay as well be done at once, and so the transcribing of one of the
1\18. copies ,,,as soon afterwards begun.
'fhe editing and side-noting of the" poenl," which I had also
undertaken, Dr. Furnivall most generously relieved me of, on learn-
ing that I was then suffering froIu an affection of the eyes; and he
nlerits our ,varlnest thanks for having perforlued ,vhat nlust 11ave
proved to be a dreary and wearisollle task ,vith his characteristic
thoroughness. When Lane's text was all printed off I happened to
be occupied ,vith SOllie prossing ,vork, and as I would not offer
266 P1"ejat01"y Note.
the Society a " scamped " thing on Chaucer's finest Tale, I desired
Dr. ]furnivall to send it out to the J\fembers, ,vith a promise that my
dissertation should fornl, ,vith glossarial index, a second fasciculus,
,vhich should have been issued last year, had I not been ill for sonle .
tin1e and burdened with other engagements.
But the long delay has enabled nle to render the notes, &c. 111uch
nlore comprehensive than I could have done t,vo years ago. I found
occasional intervals of leisure for hunting after books on magic,
sorcery, and ,vitchcraft, several of which I have laid under contribu-
tion in these papers, and the consequence is, that the lilllit of fifty
pages originally purposed has been exceeded threefold (and this is
why what I have written no,v fornls. a sort of appendix to Lane in-
stead of an introduction) ;-like Mr. Shandy's treatise on the rearing
of children, which was to be so Slllall that a lady lllight carry it in her
"housewife," but it grew and extended, from an octavo to a quarto,
and fronl a quarto to a folio-let no man say unto hinlself, " I will
write a duodecimo! "
In the course of the follo\ving papers I have, it nlust be adlllitted,
often wandered far froIn the "half-told tale of Call1buscan bold,"
,vhich is mainly clue to the suggestive nature of the great :Thfaster's
poenl. I may mention, however, that, while writing n10re especially
for students of Chaucer, I have all along kept in view the interests
of lily brother folk-Iorists, by whonl also, I venture to hope, the
varied matter no\v brought together for the first tinle, and fronl
,videly scattered sources, will not be considered as altogether
valueless.
W. A. CLOUSTON.
GLASGO\V, JUJly, 1890.
267

CONTENTS.

I.
PAGE

INTRODUCTORY 269
OUTLINE OF THE SQUIRE'S TALE 270
KNIGHTS RIDING INTO HALLS 276
:MAGIC HORSES, CHARIOTS, ETC. 279
MAGIC MIRRORS AND IMAGES 299
1\1AGIC RINGS AND GRMS 334
LANGUAGE OF ANIMALS 348
MAGIC SWORDS AND SPEARS 372

11.

INTRODUCTORY 382
ROMANCE OF GJJEOlvIADJ£S AND GLARE},fONDE 385
VALENTINE AND ORSON 405
REYNARD THE FOX 408
GLEOMADES AND THE SQUIRE'S TALE 409
ARABIAN TALE OF THE EBONY HORSE 413
TURKISH VARIANT 416
ARABIAN TALE OF THE FLYING CHAIR 418
PERSIAN TALE OF THE F'LYING CHEST 421
PERSIAN TALE OF THE WEAVER AS THE ANGEL GABRIEL 426
268 Oontents.
PA(;"E

HINDU PROTOTYPE: THE WEAVER AS THE DEITY VISHNU 428'


ANOTHER HINDU TALE OF A MAN AS VISHNU 436
GIPSY VERSION: THE WOODEN BIRD 440
ANOTHER GIPSY TALE: THE MAGIC WINGS 442
MODERN GREEK VARIANT: THE GOLDEN STEED 445
LATIN TALE OF A KNIGHT AS THE DEITY ANUBIS 450
ITALIAN TALE OF' THE FRIAR AS AN ANGETJ 452
OLD ENGLISH VERSION 454
OONCLUSION: ANALOGUES COMPARED 458
DR. BRANDL ON THE SQUIRE'S TALE 460
ADDITIONAL NOTES:

l\fagic IIorses 463


l\Jlagic Rings 464
Language of Aninlals 465
Ronlance of 'Cleolllades' 466
'The Flying Chest '-Greek Version 467
, The Wooden Bird' 468
'The Golden-Steed'-Sequel 468
IKDEX 472
269

ON rfHE MAGICAL ELEMENTS IN CHAUCER'S


"SQUIRE'S 'rALE," WITH ANALOGUES.

I.

F OR anyone to speak, even casually, of the Squire's Tale of


Chaucer without citing Ivlilton's hackneyed lines, which occur
in one of his early effusions, It I!enseroso, to vvit, 'v herein he refers to
the wondrous Horse of
On which the Tartar king did ride,
(yet he didn't, so far as the story goes,) ,vould be as unusual as for
a country newspaper reporter, in describing a dance, to onlit the ,vell-
worn phrase, from another of Milton's juvenile poenls, L'Allegro,
"on the light fantastic toe"! Of all Chancer's CanteTbury 'lTales,
that which he puts into the lIlouth of the gallant young Squiro
appears to have been the prhne favourite of both Spenser and
Milton; and" certes there is for it reason great." It contains such
ronluntic rather suggestions of such-as n1ust fascinate
the minds of readers possessed of the smallest degree of itnaginatiol1
or fancy. Moreover, it tantalizingly breaks off vvith n1ere hints of
the stirring chivalric adventures which ,vere to follo,v, but never did
-unfortunately for us; but not so, perhaps, did honest John Lane
secretly think, so far as he ,vas concerned.!
The' Squire does not put off tirne with any wordy preamble, to
indicate to his fellow-pilgrin1s the nature of his tale, but boldly
1 Alas for the fond aspirations of poetasters, who mistake the clitter-clatter
and dull, tame limping of their Bpavined jade for the flight of Pegasus ! vVith
infinite labour and much weariness of the flesh, doubtless, did John Lane corn..
pose his" Continuation" of what he terms" Chaucer's Pillar," yet it rerrlailled
buried in its" native" MS. for two centuries and a half, and is 110W vouch..
safed the honours of printer's types rather because it is a literary curiosity than
froll1 its intrinsic merits.
270 JJIagical Itle1nents in' the FJq1ii1"e's Tale.
plunges right into it, like our old fairy story-teHers, 'who began:
" There once lived a poor old ,voman," or " Once upon a tinle there
was a poor old 111an who was a ·woodcutter." He starts straight off,
thus:
At Sarray, in the land of Tartary,
Ther dwelled a kyng that wen'yed Russy,

and on he goes, like a nlan who means business, and this is the

THERE was once a ICing of Tartary, named Canlbyuskan,1 who


dwelt in the city of Sarra 2-a king of great reno,\\rn, brave, wise,
rich, merciful, and just. IIis queen "ras called Eltheta, and they
had two gallant sons, AIgarsif and Calnballo, also a fair and gentle
danghter, hight Canacc. N o,,y it so befel that \vhen this noble
}\:ing Cambyusluln had ruled some t,venty years, he caused, as ,vas
llis \vont, a great feast to be proclainled throughout the city, in cele-
bration of his birthday, and ll1agnificent ,vas the royal festival.
Afte'r the third course, \vhile the King \vith his family sate in high
state, surrounded by his nob1es, listening to the Ininstrels, behold-
In atte halle dore, al sodeynly,
There conl a knight ulJon a steed of bras,
And in his hond H. brad myrour of gIas ;
Upon his thulnb he had of gold a ryng,3
And by his side a naked swerd hangyng ;
And up he rideth to the heyghe bord.

1 Colonel Henry Yule, in his excellent edition of Marco Polo's vol.


1. p. 218, says: "Before parting with Chengis, let Ine point out, what has not,
to my knowledge, been suggested before, that the naIne of ' Ca'lnbuscart bold'
in Chancer's Tale is only a corruption of the- name of Chingiz [-Khan J. The
naIne of the conqueror appears in Fr. Ricold as Camillscan, {'rOln which the
transition to Cam-buscan presents no difficulty. Canlius was, I suppose, a
clerical corruption of Ca'l7ius, or In the Chronicle of f:3t.
however, we have hhn calleo. ' Chingiscan '}'ocfi,us Tal1lgius Canl' (xix. c. 8).
If this is not ll18rely the usual blunder of t for c, it presents a curious analogy
to the forIn of Tanlt[z Klul,n, al ways used by Iun Batuta. I do not know the
origin of the latter, unless it ,vas suggested by tanlds (Ar.), 'tul'!ling upside
down.' (See Poreg. Qlud. p. 119; ib. iii. 22, etc.)" -
2 According to lVlarco Polo, Barcha, the khan of vVestern Tartary (Kip-
chak) had two cities named Bolgosa and Assara (Sal'ra), the fornler being his
SUnlmel' and the latter his winter residence.
3 Signet-rings were often worn on the thumb by dignitaries in former
times. Falstaff declares that in his early youth he "could have crept into
any aldennan's thumb-ring" (1 Hell/J'Y 1 V:, ii. 4).
Outline of the Tale. 271
Saluting the !{ing, and the Queen, and all the lords, ,vith a grace
equal to that of the gentle Sir Ga,vain, this stranger knight forth..
with delivered his message in eloquent language, saying that the
King of Arabia and India sends him greeting, and, in honour of this
solemn festival} presents him ,vith: (1) this JIORSE OF BRASS, which
can bear him, within the space of twenty-four hours, "rheresoever he
should please to go, or soar into the air as high as the eagle, and all
,vithout danger ;-he was a ,vise man ,vho made this wonderful steed
by his magic art; (2) this MIRROR, ,,,,hich has the property of dis..
closing coming adversity and treachery, and of sho,ving whether a
lover be false or true; (3) this RING, which, if ,worn on the thumb
or carried in one's purse, has the virtue of besto\ving on its possessor
a knowledge of the language of birds and the nature of every kind of
plant ,vhich can heal the most desperate wounds (the 1\1irror and the
Ring are for the beauteous lady Canace); and (4) this S'\VORDt which
can cut through the stoutest arnl0ur, and he "rho is 'wounded there-
with may be healed only by his wound being stroked with the flat of
the sanle blade.
When the Knight had thus delivered his nlessage he rode out of
the banqueting-hall, and, alighting from the brazen steed, he was
straightway conducted to a private chanlber, and, having
divested of his arlnour, food was set before him. Mean\vhile the
S\vord and the l\Iirror \vere deposited in a high to\ver, and officers
appointed, to guard these invaluable treasures. The Ring was then
presented to Canace with all due cerelllony. But the Horse of Brass
stood in11110vable, and great was the crowd that came to gaze upon it,
for it ,vas so high, and broad, and long, as if it ,vere a steed of Lom-
bardy, and so quick of eye, as if it were a courser of Apulia; and
all thought that neither nature nor art could iUlprove upon it; and
yet they marvelled how a horse of brass rapidly course through
the air-it must have come from Fairyland. One opined that it ,vas
like another conlpared it to the Horse of Troy; and yet
another said that it nlust have been 111ade by magic art, as we read of
like ,vondrous things in many gestes. Then they ,vondered at the
Mirror and the Sword: SOl1le said there \vas once in Rome such a
mirror, and the sword they compared to the spear of Achilles, that
I-JANE. T
272 lIfagical Elements in the Tale.
could both heal and "wound; and then at Canace's Ring-surely never
before ,vas heard of such a crafty contrivance, unless it "were the
achieven1ents of Moses and King 8010n10n, who were fanlous for their
Inagic rings.
Thus were the people talking \vhen the }{ing rose froln the table,
and, preceded by a band of lllinstrels, ,vent out of the llall. "Then
he \vas seated on his throne, the stranger ,vas brought into
his presence, and there follo\ved dance, and nlirth, and jollity--the
stranger I{night dancing most gracefully with the lady Canacc. 1
After regaling ,vith richly spiced ,vine, the noble conlpany proceeaed
to the telnple, as ,vas fitting, whence, service concluded, they went to
supper, and then the }{ing the Knight to acquaint hiln with
the manner of guiding the Horse of Brass. The Knight had no
sooner laid his hand upon the bridle than the 110rse began to caper
and prance, and then, quoth the Knight: "Sire, it is very sinlple.
Whenever you \vish to ride any,vhere, all you have to do is to turn a
pin \vhich. is fixed in his ear, tell hiln ,vhere you \vish to go, and
,vhen you have reached the place, turn another pin, and he \vill
inul1ediately descend on the spot and stand still." 'Vhen the I{ing
heard this he "vas full blithe, I \veen, and, ordering the bridle to be
taken into the tower ,vhere his treasures ,vere kept, the asselnbly
returned to the hall, "vhere they continued their revels until day
began to da,vn'. 2

1 It was doubtless natural for Chaucer to represent the Indian I{night as


dancing with the fair Canace; but such a practice seems never to have been
in vogue in the East, from the most relnote tinles of which we have any
ledge. In India, Persia, Turkey, Egypt, etc., the '·lords of creation"
hire professional dancing girls to exhibit their terpsichorean skill and agility,
while they thernsefves sit placidly looking on; and none of our European
customs nlore astonishes a "grave and otiose" Asiatic than his seeing
for the first time a number of men violently exerting thenlselves in hopping
and whirling about, each with a WOlTIan clasped in his arms.
2 Evidently the magical power of causing the Horse of Brass to nlove lay
in the bridle, although when the steed was in mid-air it was guided by nleans
of pins, since we are told that when the Indian Knight grasped the bridle the
hitherto immovable ho1'::;e began to prance. The King was doubtless infornled
by the ambassador of the virtue of the bridle, and hence the precaution he
adopted for its safety.-A bridle plays an llnportant pftl't in 111any stories of
lnagical metamorphoses, such as, for exanlple, in several of the tales belonging
to what is known as the" Magical Conflict" cycle, where the young· hero tells
his father that he intends to transforlll himself into a horse, and "do you then
Outline of the

The lady Canace had retired early to rest, and, dreanling of her
nlagic Ring and 1\Iirror, a\voke after her first sleep, and having
roused. half a dozen of her attendants ,vent forth with them into
the park, ,vhere, by virtue of her Ring, she understood the song of
every bi1xl. Presently she came to a tree on which sat a peregrine
falcon lalllenting nlost piteously, till all the ,vood resounded with
her cries; and so desperately had she beaten herself 'with her ,vings
that the red blood streanled dovnl the tree. Canace, with the Ring
on her finger, not only understood ,vhat any bird Inight say in its
s.ong, but could ans,ver in the sanle language. So she asked the
peregrine ,vhat was the cause of her bitter sorrow. "r
as it death or
love assuredly these t,vo cause a gentle heart the greatest ,voe.
"C0111e do\vn frolll the tree, and tell lue your story, and, by God's
help, I 'will anlend your sad case, if it be possible." The poor pere-
grine, thus encouraged, dropped into Canace's lap, and told the gentle
lady ho,,, she had. been ,vooed. by a tercelet, l ,vho, by the most
specious prorl1ises of fidelity, had. won her heart, and after they had
lived together about t,vo years the false tercelet ,vent off one day,

sell me for a round sum of money, only take care not to part with the bridle,
for should you do so, I cannot conle back "-that is to say, he would not be
able to re-assume his own proper form. (See the chapter on Traus-
fornlatious" in 111y Popular lules anrl Fiction,>;, vol. i. p. 4 15 ff.)
John Lane, in his Oonti-nuation, descrioes the bridle of the Horse of
in his usual prosaic manner, as though it were llleant for the guidance and
control of a steed of flesh and blood, not of one cunningly contrived by
magic art:
Plaine was the bridle, of well ta'Ud leather hunger,
Buokled, to lett longe, short, not o'1'e or vnder;
The bitt, a canon by tt, of surest stuff,
Able to taIne the wildest colt in proof.
Howbeet so pleasaunt, after some whpe worne,
As with glad cheere and ease mote well bee borne.
'\Vhich held the curb, or water chaine so nye,
As co.old checke stumblinge, and teach renledy.
(P. 41, H. 271-278.)
Most assuredly--and most unhappily-John Lane was not" one whom the gods
had made poetical"! And he oeconles even nlore absurd when 1)e goes on to
describe the King's first trial of the Horse of Brass, which, according to him,
did not require to be moved by the TI1agic power of the bridle, for it came
through the air as Cambuscan and Canace were walking amid the daisies and
violets, and descending, of its own accord, stood before them a.s still- as any
stone, and so renlained until the LridJe was put Ol1-a piece of inconsistency
eminently characteristic of the anlLitious poetaster!
1 The tercelet is the nlale of the peregrine and, unlike the nlales of
most other species of anhllals, is snlaller and less coura.geous than the fetnale.
T 2
274 Magical Ele1nents in the Tale.
and had never returned, for he had taken up ,vith a nlere kite. l
The fair lady Canace ,vas touched to the heart by this sad recital,
and, carrying the poor forsaken peregrine home in her lap, salved
her self-inflicted wounds with balsamic herbs, and caused a mew 2 for
her to be made at her bed's head, covered ,vith blue velvet, in token
of felnale constancy, and the outside ,vas painted green, ,vith repre-
sentations of all kinds of false lllale birds. 3

Ha-ving proceeded thus far In his recital, the "gentil squyere"


goes on to say:
Thus lete I Oanace hir hauk kepyng.
I wiI nOlllore now speken of hir rynge,
Til it come eft to purpos for to seyn,
How that this faukon gat hir love ageyn,
Repentaunt, as the. story telleth us,
By lllediacioun of Camballus
The kinges sone, of which that I yow tolde ;
But hennesforth I wil llly proces hoIde
To speken of avelltures, and of bat.ailes,
'fhat yit was never herd so grete mervailes.,
First wil I telle yow of Oambyuskan,
That in his time many a cite wan;
And after wii I Rpeke of Algarsif,
How that he wan Theodora to wif,
For w honl ful ofte in grete peril he was,
Ne had he ben holpen by the hors of bra.-"i.
And after wiI I speke of Oamballo,
'That fought ill listes with the bretherel1 tuo
For Canace, er that he might hir wyl111e,
And ther I left I wol ageyn beginne.

1 The peregrine says:


"Though he were gentil born, and fresh, and gay,
And goodly for to see, and humble, and free,
He saw upon a time a kite fie,
And sodeynly he loved this kite soo,
That al his love is clene fro me goo ;
And hath his trouthe falsed in this wise."
The kite is a cowardly kind of hawk, quite unfit for sport, and hence con-
sidered as the emblem of everything base, as the falcon was the eInblem of
royalty, in those times "when falconry was so much in vogue.
2 A lllew was the technical naUle for the place where hawks were kept to
mew, or moult, in.
S Blue was the colour of truth,. and green of inconstancy; hence in
Chaucer's Ballade on an Inconstant Lady-
" Instede of blewe, thus may ye were al grene."
275

In the Lunsdo\vne 1fS. these lines are added, by \vay of conclusion


to the foregoing:
Bot I wil here now make a knotte
'1'0 the tinle it COlne next to my lotte ;
For here be felawes behinde an hepe treulye,
That wolde talke ful besilye,
And halve her 1 sporte as wele as I,
And the daie passeth fast certanly.
Therefore, oste, taketh nowe goode heede
Who schalle next telle, and late hi m spede.

But the" half told tale of Call1buscan bold" ,vas never finished.
In all likelihood Chancer reserved the relllaining part, of \vhich he
sketches the chief at the end of ' Paps Secunda,' as
cited-the very talc itself, in fact, for \vhut \ve have is Incl'ely intro-
ductory-for the Squire to relate on the return journey: the jolly
host of the' Tabard' having conditioned that each pilgrilll should
tell !'loo tales, one on the road to Canterbury, and one on the \vay
home. Had the poet completed his design, the Canie1'uury Tales
,vould have fornled a bulky volullle. That no Second Tales ,vere
ever \vritten by hinl is probable to the verge of certainty, since a
nunlbel' of the pilgrilns so graphically described in thc Prologue are
not assigned 'l'ales. 2 This vexatiously inconlplete state of the CanteT-
bury Tales induced an obscure monk (as the ,vriter appears to have
been), in the 15th century, to COlllpose The Tale of Beryn-based
upon the first part of the old French ro!nance, L'I£istoire dn Checalier
Bel'inus, etc.-as the Merchant's Second Tale, \vith a Prologue,
recounting" a Adventure of the Pardoner ,vith a Tapster at
Canterbury," ,vhich are found only in a unique J\fS. now in the
possession of the Duke of N orthulllberland, and were first in
Urry's edition of Chaucer's Works, published in 1721, and re-edited,
by F. J. Furnivall and W. G. Stone, for the Chaucer Society, in

1 i. e. their.
2 The Prioress' Chaplain, the IIaberdasher, the Carpenter, the 'Veaver,
the Dyer, the Tapister, and the Host. The Canon Yeoman has a Tale, but no
character in the genp,ral Prologue.-Warton (Hist. of English PoetJ·y) con-
sidet's Chaucer's plan of luaking the pilgrims relate stories on the road to
Canterbury as greatly superior to that of Boccaccio in his Decarme·l'on. This
nul.Y be so, yet it is not easy to understand how some thirty peri90ns on horse-
back could all hear the Tales, even if they alnbled along the road.
276 lJfagical JjJlmnents in tJie Sqnirc's Tale.

1876. 1 the 1110nkish continuator of Chaucer purposcd


writing second tales for the other pilgrinls \vho told each a story on
the road to Canterbury, it is iInpossible to say. .Perhaps he did, and
,vas overtaken by death before he could proceed farther \vith his self-
ilnposed task. Be this as it 111<1 Y, the l'hle of Beryn is V\iell told,
,vhile the Prologue is, as Dr. Furnivall renlarks in his' Forewords'
.to the reprint, "a good bit of the 1\fastcr's hU1110Ur and life-likeness,
and Chancer's characters are well kept up." Two hundred years
passed a\vay before any other \vriter \vas found bold enough to
farther supplen1ent the Canie?'bury T'ales, in the forl11 of a terribly
I

long-,vinded "Continuation" of the Squire's T'ale, \vhich is printed


for the first tillle the present volunle, and which, sooth to say, is
about as like the l\faster's charnling style as-chalk is to cheese!
Still, it possesses 80111e interest of its own, though altogether clumsily
contrived; and, after all, John Lane, like the man in the play, " did
it \vith the best intentions." And when" sequels" by the authors
themsel yes are notoriously disappointing, V\That could be expected of
a sequel to a tale by Dan Chaucer, even if V\ ritten by a much 11101'e
7

able 11lan than John Lane, in "whose" poen1 " the inlagjnative faculty
is conspicuous by its absence, the language is heavy and cun1brons,
and the rhythm and rhyn1e are often sinlply atrocious 7

The 11lagical elelnents in the Squire's Tale constitute its great


attraction, for they are suggestive of lnarvellous adventures and
exploits that 11light have been performed ,vith such po\verful aids-
rendering tin1e and distance of no account, and overco111ing the ll10st
for111idable obstacles. 13efore treating of these lllagical elClllcnts, I
take leave to offer a fe\v examples of the 11ledireval cust0111 of
KNIGHTS RIDING INTO BANQUETING HALLS,
as did the Indian ambassador to I{ing Calnbyuskan :
That so bifelle after the thridde caul's,
1VhiI that this kyng sit thus in his nobleye,

1 In ]887-8 a second part was issued to l\1embers, c0111prising, as an


appendix, "The Merchant and the Rogues," English abstract of the French
original and Asiatic versions of the lhle C!f Beryn, by 'V. A. Clou:ston; also
Forewords, by Dr. Furnival1; illustrati"e Notes, by]( tT. Vipan and Prof.
Skeat; and Glossarial Index, lJy VV. G. Stone, thus conlplcthlg the volu111e.
oj the Tale. 277
Herkyng his nlynstrales her l thingcs pley
ByfoI'ne hinl attc board. deliciously,
In atte hall dore al sodeynly
TheI' corn a knight upon a steed of bras,

And 11p he Ij"ideth to the heyglw bOl'rl.


The halls of the early N orlnan kings and barons were lofty
enough to allow a nlounted knight "with his spear pointed up'Nards
to ride through, and such a custom is frequently Inentioned in
ronlances of chivalry. Thus, in the rOluance of Sir Perceval C{f
Galles, originally con1posed by Chretien de Troyes and others, we
read that the hero, In?unted on a nlare-
He COD1e there the kyng wa.s
Servede of the first lllese,
To hynl was the lnaste has
That the childe hade ; 2
And thare 11lade he no lett 3
At 3ate, dare, ne wykett,
Bot in graythely4 he gettt
Syche rnaistres he made 15
At his first in comynge,
H is mere withowttene faylynge
I{yste the forheved. 6 of the kynge,
So nerehande he !7
So, too, in the ballad of King
King Estemere he stahled his
Soe fayre att the hall bard;
The froth that came from his brydle bitte
Light on King Bremor's beard. 8
And in the romance of Sir Degrevant, the hero arrives at the castle
of Duke Betyse-
And rydes up to the des,9
As thei were servid of here 10 mes,
1'0 nlayd l\1:yldor he ches,ll
And chalangys that fre ! 12
Again, in the tale of 'The Lady of the Fountain' ,ye read that 'c as
Os'\vain sat one clay at meat in the city of Caerllen upon U sk, behold,
Her == their.
1 2 To him the Ohild made the most haste that he could.
Difficulty.
3 4 Readily; freely.
5 Such a masterful nlanner had he. 6 Forehead.
7 Tlw1'7don Romances, edited, for the Oamden Society, by J. O. Halliwell,
18,*4,11. 485-495.
8 IJercy FoZ,io J.118., edited by Hales and FurnivaIl, vot ii., p. 605, 001. 2.
9 The dais was a sort of platform elevated a foot or two above the floor
of a banqueting-hall. 10 Their. 11 Ohose.
12 l\laiden.-Tlwl'nton RO'1nanees, p. 227, 1. 1201-4.
278 Magical in the sTale.

a danlsel entered upon a bay horse, with a curling mane, and covered
,vith foanl, and the bridle and so much as was seen of the saddle
,vere of gold." 1
Stow, in his SU1·vey of London (first published in 1598), relates:
"In the year 1316 Edward 11. did solemnize the feast of Pentecost
at Westminster, in the great hall; where sitting royally at table
with his peers about hjm, there entered a woman adorned like a
minstrel, sitting on a great horse, trapped as lllinstrels then used, ,vho
rode round about the tables, showing pastime, and at length canle
up to the king's table, and laid before him a letter, and forthw'ith
turning her horse, saluted everyone, and departecl."2 According to
Perey, the letter was found to contain SOlne severe reflections on the
king's conduct, which greatly angered hiIn; and the ,voman, being
arre3ted his conllnand, discovered the author of the letter, who
acknowledged the offence and was· pardoned. But the doorkeeper,
being reprimanded on account of her admission, excused himself by
declaring that it had never been customary to prevent.the entry of
minstrels and persons in disguisements, on the. supposition that they
came for the entertainnlent of the king. This woman had probably
i

assumed the habit of a man; and a. female ,vas chosen on this


occasion, in Percy's opinion, in order that, in the event of detection,
her sex might plead for her and disarm' the king's resentment.
A very singular incident occurred at the coronation of V'\Tillianl
'and l\1ary. The Champion of England, dressed in armour of com-
plete and glittering steel, riding on a horse richly caparisoned, enter8U
vVestminster Hall, while the I{ing and Queen were at dinner. On
giving the usual challenge to any who disputed their Majesties' rjght
to the throne of England, after he had flung his gauntlet on the
pavement, an old ,voman, who entered the hall on crutches, took it
up and made off ,vith great celerity, forgetting her crutches, anel
leaving her o\vn glove, ,vith a challenge in it, to meet her the next
day at an appointed hour in Hyde Park. It is said that a person in
the sanle dress appeared in the park the next day, but the Chalnpion
of England remained quietly at honle, declining a contest of such a
1 Lady Charlotte Guest's lfIab'indgion, No. 2l.
2 'V.J. Thoms' ed. of Stow's Su'rvoy, 1842, p. 173, col. 2.
fifagic !ioTses, Chariots, &0.
nature ,vith one of the.fair sex, though it was generally supposed to
be SOUle enthusiastic {.Tacobite in disguise.
The custonl of the" Champion" riding into vVestnlinster Hall
during the coronation festival, and throwing do,vn his gauntlet in
defiance to any gainsayers of the ne,v king's right to the cro,vn, ,vas,
lllost absurdly, observed so late as the coronation of George IV., Sir
Henry DYllloke being "I-Iereditary Champion of when
that functionary had the high honour to drink the king's health out
of a golden cup-the cup being always the fee. The facetious Tonl
llood, among his droll Odes and Adcl1"eSSeS to Great Men, has some
hunlorous verses addressed to the" Cha111pion," beginning:
Mr. Dymoke! Sir Knight.! if I may be so bold-
(I'm a poor simple gentlmuall just come to tDwn)
Is your armour put uy, like a sheep in the fold?
Is your gauntlet ta'en up that you lately flung down?
Are you-who tlla,t day rode so nlailed and adlnired-
Now sitting at ease in your library chair?
Have you sent back to Astley the war-horse you hired,
vVith a cheque upon Chambers to settle the fare?

I'r is a marked characteristic of fairy tales that the heroes, in


their encounters with formidable giants and 1110nsters, are COlnpen-
sated for their physical shortconlings by the possession of superior
cunning and of certain nlagical objects vvhich furnish an unlinlited
supply of food, render thenl invisible, enable thenl to overcome all
antagonists, and to transport thenlselves at will to distant regions in
the briefest conceivable-or inconceivable-space of thne. Of the
last kind of such objects by far the l1l0st COll11ll0n in the popular
fictions of all countries are shoes vvhich conveyed t'he ,vearer " a lllile
faster than the ,Yind " ; nay more, " fronl one end of the ,vorlcl to the
other in the twinkling of an eye"; and, still more ,vonderful, he
nlight "travel a journey of a hundred years vvithout being ,veary, ancl
the distance traversed would seem but a hundred steps." Such ,vas
the kind of shoes 'vhich the reno,vned Jack received from the three-
headed giant, and of those ,vith which Loke escaped franl hell; and
siulilarly endo,ved sandals, slippers, shoes, boots, and ,vooden, clogs
280 lJIagical Elel}nents in the Sfjfuit'e's Tale.

\vere also \yorn by the heroes of countless Asiatic and European talcs
and ronlances. Fortunatus had his wishing-cap; the" V bleur Avise,"
in the Breton tale, had his cloak; and the fakir, in the Hindu tale,
his bed; each possessing the like virtue. But the nl0st remarkable
"shoos of swiftness" vvere those ,ve read of in an Icelandic story,
'Nhich the heroine, by direction of an obliging giant, illude fro111 the
soles of her feet, flayed off by herself for this purpose, and which
took her speedily through the air and over the ,vater, as she pleased.
Next to "shoes of svviftness" occur Illost frequently in popular
fictions Magic Horses, \vhich are of tvYO kinds: those constructed of
\vood or metal, and those which are supposed to be of flesh and blood,
but have been "enchanted," and sonletin18s a steed of this second
kind proves to be a gallant young prince, thus transfornled by art
111agic; sonletimes it is a "de1110n horse," which is usually the offspring
of an ordinary mare and a stallion that periodically C01l1es out of
the sea.
The folk-lore of the Horse has not yet, I think, been treated
exhaustively, though 111uch has been said on the subject by Grinl111
and other conlparative nlythologists. In ronlantic fiction a hero is
abNays provided with a charger endowed with extraordinary qualities;
having alnlost hunlan 'intelligence and indonlitable courage; fre-
quently fighting for his n1aster, by tearing foes \vith his teeth and
crushing them under foot. Abjer, the famous steed of the Arabian
poet-hero Antar, was able, his master asserts in some of his spirited
verses, to do everything but speak; and other ,varrjors are represented
as holding conversations ,vith their chargers.
But "ve are chiefly concerned at present \vith such Horses
as that presented to Cambyuskan by the Indian alllbassador, )vho
thus describes its qualities:
"This steede of bras, that esily and wel
Can in the space of (, day naturel
(This is to say, in four and twenty houres),
vVher so yow lust, in droughthe or in schoures,
Beren your body into every place,
To which your herte wilneth for to pace,
vVithouten wem 1 of you, thurgh foul and fair.
Or if you lust to flee as heigh in th' air
1 lVmn = hal'ln.
1Jfagic HOTses, Cha1riots, &c. 281
As dotl! an eglA. whan hinl to sore.
same Hteede schal here you eyennOl'e
'Vithoute harn1, tU ye be ther yow
(Though that ye slepen on his bak or reste),
And torne agein, with wrything of a pyn."

We shall, presently, meet 'with very similar steeds, but the Horse of
Brass is unique, inaSlnuch as the rider has not only to " trille a pin,
stant in his ere," in order to cause him to ascend into the air, as is
the case of other ll1agic horses that figure in romantic fictions, but he
Dlust also tell the steed to " ,vhat countre he lust for to ryde," and
having reached the place, " bid hYln descencle," and "trill.e another
pyn." Surely here was the perfection of Inagical skill, to cudo·w· a
horse of brass with" a hearing ear and an understanding heart" !

In offering SOlne notes on nlagic horses, chariot8, and other ,von-


drously contrived conveyances, it is perhaps. but right and
that preference should be given to our o,vn country, tllough there
Inay be but a single exanlple, ,vhich is found in Lelalld's Itinerary,
as follo\vs: "The COlnUlune Fa11le is in RuthelandeshiTe that there
,vas one Rutter, a 111an of great Favor \vith his Prince, that desir'd
to have of Revvarde of hYll1 as ll1uch Land as he could ryde over in a
Day upon a Horse of W oodlie, and that he ridcle over as nluch as
novv is Ruthelanclshire by Arte and that he ,vas after
s\valowid into the Yerthe."l .
Such is c0111nlonly the fate of practitioners of the Black Art-the
Devil seldonl fails to clailn his due! In 1110re recent tilnes than
those of Rutter, the celebrated Polish ,vizard To\val'clo\vski, regarding
'v h01n ll1any strange tales are still current, made a ,vooden horse and
painted it and it carried hinl through the air ,vheresoever
he pleased. I--lis end was quite as exenlplary as that of our English
,vizard, for vvhen his" till1e" came the Devil forthwith 1.vhisked hinl
off, 1)icl the chinlney!
Fro111 Europe to India is not such "a far C"fY" as it \-vas but a
fe"r years since, so ,ve 111ay as ,veIl proceed thither at once, for another
exanlple of a magic horse of ,vood. In the fairy ronlunce entitled.
1 The ItineJ'a1'y of John Leland. Published fl'Oln the original IVIS. in the
Bodleian Library, by Thomas Hearne, 1\LA. Second edition. Oxford, 1744,
'"01. vi. p. 61.
282 1Jfag1:cal Elerrncnts in the Tale.

Badl'-i-.J..lfantl', which is an abstract in Panjabi verse of the \vell-


knO\Vll 'York of the same nallle, \vritten, in Urdu, by Mir Hasan, ,ve
have a sinlilar contrivance:
A certain Indian king in his old age begat a very son,
who was called Benazlr. One night, when he \vas fifteen years old,
the fairy M6,hrukh happened to pass the palace in which he \vas
sleeping, and, falling in love with hin1, carried him off on her flying
throne to Fairyland (Parsistan). Benazlr, however, so pined for his
hon1e that no kindness on the part of his captor \vas of any avail, so
she gave him a flying horse of \vood on which to visit the earth. As
the horse could travel a hundred miles in a few n1inutes, he was to
return to her every day, and was especially warned against falling in
love. One day, in the course of his flying visits, he met with Badr-i-
l\fanlr, and, as a result, us.ed to visit her daily. This was duly reported
to 1\16,hrukh by a demon, and she becaule very angry, and shut him
up in a \vell on vvhich she put a stone weighing four tons (100 rnaruJ).
l'he cessation of BenazIr's visits caused great grief to Badr-i-Manir,
and so she confided her love to the prime minister's daughter; \vho
,vent in search of the truant lover, disguised as a felllale ascetic
(jogin). One day as the pretended ascetic ",'"as employed in playing
on her pipe (bin), Firuz Shah, the king of the fairies, passed over her
on his flying throne, and, becoming enamoured of her, carried her off
to Parsistan, \vhere she explained to him her story, and pl'ol11ised to
marry hinl if he would release Renazlr. Firuz Shah soon discovered
Benazir and restored hinl to his beloved Badr-i-Manir, and all ends
happily \vith the safe return of Benaz{r to his parents and the union
of the lovers.!
Another Panjeibi tale, entitled Pan.jphulan (Five Flo\vers), is to
this purpose:
A 111erchant of Bukhara named 'Az{z had a very handsonle \vifc,
and while she ,vas pregnant he took her \vith him on a voyage to
Constantinople. The ship \vas "\vrecked, and everyone ,vas Jro"\vneJ
excepting the pregnant woman, \vho escaped on a plank. She gave
birth to Prince ShalUl on the plank, but ,vas soon afterwards dro\vned.
1 From an excellent paper on "The Bibliography of [Indian] Folk-Lore,"
by Captain R. C. Ternple, in the Folk-Lore JO'l(/J'/iJal, 1886, val. iv. p. 301.
]J{agie IIo1"ses, ChaTiots, (kJC. 283

The infant, hovvever, floated to Constantinople, vvhere he ,vas taken


to the sultan and adopted by him. When he was fifteen years old
[generally a fatal age for love affairs-in stories] a fairy carried hinl
off, but allowed hilu to \vandel' the earth on a ,vinged horse. One
day he thus met Princess Panjphulan of Persia, and they were
nlarried. After this he returned to Constantinople and lived there
for the rest o£ his days.1
In the eighth recital of the Indian story-book, Sinlulsana Dwatrin-
sati, or Thirty-t,vo [Tales] of a Throne, a carpenter presents the raja
Vikramaditya, )vith a nlagic horse, constructed by hinlself; it ,vas in
fornl "solue,vhat like a hippopotanlus" (and ,vhy so, it does not
appear), and required neither food nor ,vater; and it would carry
the raja any\vhere, but must on no account be ,vhipped or spurred. 2
One day the raja mounted this horse, and forgetting the carpenter's
warning, began to flog it, whereupon it scoured off, rose high into the
air, crossed the sea, and, slipping £1'0111 beneath hiln, dropped the raja
on the ground, and vanished. vVhat farther adventures the raja 111ay
have had is no concern of ours at present-so ,ve shall leave him
'vhere the l11agic horse dropped him.
Sonlctimes it seems doubtful ,vhether a magic horse in an
Eastern tale is of ,vood or nletal, or an "enchanted" flesh-and-blood
steed, as, for instance, in the fanliliar Arabian tale of the Third
I(alandar: After accidentally killing the predestined youth in the
underground place, he walked about the island, and crossing at low
tide reached a palace overlaid ,vith plates of copper, and on entering,
discovered an old shaykh and ten young nlen, all blind of one eye.
He asks the cause of such a strange nlutilation, and they advise
him to remain in ignorance, but on his insisting, they tell hilll he
will learn all about it at a certain place. He is determined to go
thither. "l'hen they all arose, and taking a ram slaughtered and

1 Capt. R. C. Tenlple, (Jp. cit., p. 306.


2 In Lal Bahari Day's Folk-Tales of Bengal C" Story of a Hiraman," a
species of Parrot), p. 215, the hero gains his ends by the help of a horse of the
pakshiraj breed; and says the Parrot to him: "Whip him only once, and at
starting; for if you whip him nlore than once we shall stick ll1idway." This
horse seems to have been of seuli-celestial species.
284

skinned it, and said to nle: 'Take this knife \vith thee and intro-
duce thyself into the skin of the ranl, and we \vill se\v thee up and
go a\vay; whereupon a bird called the '?'uJfh vvill COTne to thee, and
taking thee up by its talons \vill fly a\vay with tl1ee, and set thee
down upon a 11lountain. Then cut opon the skin vvith this knife
and get out, and the bird 'will flyaway. Thou must arise as soon
as it hath gone, and journey for half a day, and con1e to a lofty
palace.'" 1'he adventurer does as they had instructed hinl, and in the
palace he finds forty be\vitching daU1sels. A.fter passing S0111e ti1116
in their society, they require to absent therl1selves for a season, and
before leaving give hirn the keys of the hundred roon1S, charging hinl
not to enter the r00111 that has a door of gold. But this he does,
irnpelled by fatal curiosity, and sees there a black horse saddled and
bridled. Leading the steed outside, he rnoullted hiln, but he rlloved
not a step, then he struck the steed, and as soon as he felt the blo\v,
he uttered a sound like thunder, spread a pair of 'wings, soared into
the air to a great height, and then descended on the roof of another
palace, \vhere he thre\v the rash adventurer from his back, and, by a.
violent blo\v \vith his tail on the face as he sat there on the roof,
struck out his eye and left hin1. 1
1 Lane's A1'abian Nights, vo1. i. p. 1G7 ff.
The device of being sewn in the skin of some animal, and carried to the
desired spot by a huge bird occurs in both Western and Eastern fictions. Thus
in the sixth tale of Laura Gonzenbaeh's 8ieilianische fiIii1'clwn, .Joseph, the
hero, is sewn up in a horse's hide, and taken by a great bird to the top of a
high mountain.-In Geldart's l/'olk-Lo1'e (!f Jl!{dm'n Greece, p. 88 (story of the
Prince and the Fairy), the hero meets a Jew, who tells him that he will find
game on the top of a neighbouring hill. The Jew sews him up in a buffalo's
skin, and ravens come and carry him off. On the top of the hill he finds no
game. The rascally Jew cries: "1'hrow Ine two stones and then I'll take you
down." He throws down the stones-pure diamonds-and the Jew then
off. In the sequel, the youth, of course, meets with good fortune.-In Camp-
belrs Popular of tIle l£i.qltZ{{;nds, No. 44, the \iVidow's Son is sewn
up in the skin of a cow and carried off by a bird to an island. Rabbi Benja-
lllill of Tudela writes that when sailors were in danger of being lost at sea near
Ohina, they sewed therneelves up in hides and awaited the griffin, 'who carried
thenl to land, believing them to be his natural prey.
In the great Indian story-book, ]{athd Sal''it Saga l' a" or Ocean of the
Rivers of Narrative (by SOInadeva, eleventh century, based upon the T0''i!ULt
I{at7ui, or Great Story, by GUl1hadhya, about the fifth century), an ill-used
yout.h, wandering in the wilderness, where no trees afford a frieno]y shade,
to escape frOln the oppressive heat, creeps into the skin of an elephant, the
jackals having cleared out the flesh. Presently rain falls in torrents; he is
lJ[agic IIo??ses, Cha1"iots, &c. 285

The l{alanLlar's unfortunate adventure has its probable origin in


the tale of Saktideva, '\vhich occurs in the ]{athd SaTit Sagara
(1'a'\vney's transl., vol. i. p. 223-4) : 'fhe hero, by hiding hi111self in
the feathers of an enorlnous bird, reaches the Golden City, luakes love
to Chandraprabha, daughter of the king of the Vidyadharas, and
before she departs to ask her father's consent to their marriage, she
cautions hinl not to ascend to the luiddle terrace of the palace, then she
goes away, "leaving her heart ,vith hin1, and escorted on her vvay by
his." His curiosity prolnpts hin1 to go on the 11liddle terrace, and
he discovers three pavilions, the door of one of which is open,
and on entering he beholds a beautiful maiden lying on a magnifi-
cently je\velled sOla, apparently dead. He then enters the t,vo other
pavilions, in each of which he sees a maiden in like condition.
" Then he ,vent in astonishnlent out of the palace, and sitting dOvVll
he rell1ained looking at a very beautiful lake belo\v it, and on its
bank he beheld a horse )vith a je\velled saddle; so he descended
inllllediately £ronl 1vhere he ,vas, and out of curiosity approached its
side; and seeing that it had \110 rider on it he tried to Inount it, aiH,t
that horse struck hinl vvith his heel and flung hill1 into the lake.
And after he had sunk beneath the surface of the lake, he quickly
rose up to his astonishnlent fro111 the l11iJ\lle of a garden-lake in his
own city of Val'dhanlana, and he sa \v hin1sel£ suddenly standing in
the ,vater of the lake in his own native city, like the I{ull1uda plant,
Iniserable vvithout the light of the moon" [the nanle of his beloved,
Chanclraprabha, signifies" light of the 11100n "].

According to Sir R. F. Burton, the Ebony Horse in the \vell-


known Arabian tale is sinlply Pegasus, "vvhich is a Greek trav8sty
of an Egyptian 111yth, developed in India." I venture to question·
this. Pegasus vvas a '\vinged stp.ed,l \vhile the Ebony Horse was put
in motion and guided by means of pins fixed in the head, ,vhich

swept into the Ganges, and a monstrous bird carries ashore the skin and
begins to tear it open, and on seeing a man inside flies away.-Prof. 'C. H.
Tawney's, trans., vol. i. p. 77.
1 In the Greek luythology, as is "known to every schoolboy," Pegasus is
really a'demigod and inhabits Olympqs. Hesiod (Tlwogony, 281 fr.) tells us
of: his birth and ascent.
286 fi{agl:cal Ele7nents ·i11J the Sq1til"e's Tale.

\vero turned according as the rider desired to ascend or descend. vVe


have, however, seen that there are also winged horses in the Arabian
Nights, and the idea of such things, together with the very tales in
which they occur, \vas 1110St certainly derived, mediately, froIn Indian
fictions. But I am not aware of any evidence that the I-lindu winged
horse is a "developluent" of an Egyptian nlyth, or of its "Greek
travesty," Pegasus. Surely there is nothing in the idea of a vvinged
horse that should render its conception inlpossible, or inlprobable,
except to a particular race of nlankind. l'he fact that the horse is
one of the nlost fleet of quadrupeds nlight very naturally suggest the
notion that with \vings its usefulness \vould be increased tenfold-
by its being enabled to soar above lofty heights, and not require to
painfully and slovvly clilnb thenl, and even to render otherwise insu-
perable obstacles of no acconnt. The bulls in Assyrian sculptures
are winged: are we also to conclude that these are" a travesty of an
Egyptian nlyth" That the great nations of antiquity acted and
re-acted on one another in their mythological conceptions is not to be
denied; but it seenlS to me unreasonable to circunlscribe the idea of
winged quadrupeds to the invention of the Egyptians. vVe are
ahnost daily startled with identities in the folk-lore of savage races,
the mythologies of ancient nations, and the folk-lore of modern
Europe and Asia-identities vvhich cannot possibly be explained
u\vay by any theory of transmission or borro'wing, and which must
therefore have been independently developed by "\videly different and
widely separated races in sinlilar conditions of life, and. having 1110re
or less sinlilar modes of thought.

But we have not yet done vvith the subject of nlagic horse.3 and
their congeners. It has been already rell1arked (p. 272, note) that the
bridle often plays a l1l0st iInportant part in 'with Inagic
steeds, and we have a rather singular exaIl1ple in a modern Albanian
folk-tale, vvhich is a variant of the charnling tale of the Jealous
Sisters, with which our. conlmon English version of the Arabian
Nights concludes. In this Albanian tale, tvvo children, a boy and a
girl, are thrown into a river in a box. They are rescued and brought
up by an aged couple. In course of tinle the old ,voman dies, and
Magic 287
soon afterwards the children's foster-father, feeling his end dra,ving
near, calls the youth to hilll and says: "!{n01v, my SOD, that in such
a place is a cave, where there is a bridle belonging to 111e. This bridle
I give thee: but be sure not to open the cave before forty days have
elapsed,1 if you wish the bridle to do ,vhatever you n1ay comllland."
After the expiry of forty days the youth goes to the cave, and having
opened it finds the bridle. lIe takes it in his hand and says to it,
"I \vant t,vo horses," and in an instant they appear before hiln.
Then the brother and sister mounted thenl, and in the t,vinkling of
an eye arrived in the country of their father, the king. 2
In a Hungarian tale, the hero, in quest of his three si8ters 'vha
had been carried off by deu10ns, receives from an ascetic a piebalu
horse, which he no sooner mounts than they are high up in the air
like birds, because the piebald \vas a magic horse that at all tin1es
grazed on the silken meadow of the fairies. 'fhe piebald, having
conducted him to the abode of the denl0n who had possession of his
second sister, is divested of his bridle, and then sets off alolle to seek
out the abode of the demon who had possession of his third sister.
By and by, when the hero ,vould continue his journey, " he shakes
the bridle and the piebald appears."3
Another wonderful steed occurs in a Russian tale. The adven-
turous hero having been caught trying to carry off an apple from a
golden apple-tree, he is to be pardoned and to have the coveted apple
to boot, if he bring the king the golden horse that can nlake the circuit
of the world in tvventy-four hours. His Inentor-a fox, to ,vit, whonl
he had refrained froll1 shooting at 'vhen he first set out on his travels,
and who is grateful therefor-tells hinl the horse is in the forest, and
there he 'will find t,vo bridles, one of gold, and the other of hemp;
he nlust be sure to take the hen1pen onc, else the horse ,vill neigh

1 1\1" uslims mourn for their dead during forty days.--For exan1p]es of the
superstitious veneration in which the number 40 is ,held by Orientals, espe-
cially Jews and l\1:uslims, see my Gl'OUp of EasteJ'n RO'Inanoes and Stories,
1889, pp. 140, 155, 188, 300, 456.
2 Contes Alhanais, recueillis et traduits pal' Auguste DOZOll, Paris, 1881 ;
No. I!.
3 Tlw Folk-Tales of tlte lJlagyars, translated and edited, with cOlnparative
notes, by Hev. W. Henry J ones and Lewis L. Kropf. Published for the Folk-
Lore Society, 1889. Pp. 289, 293.
LANE. U
288 J.11agical Ele1nents in the Sqni1?e's Tale.

and a\vake the guards. But, spite of this caution, he seizes the
golden bridle and is caught. The king tells hinl that he will get the
golden horse, if he bring to him the golden-haired virgin ,vho has
never seen sun or moon. The fox conducts hinl to a cave, \vhere he
finds the danlsel, but his four-footed mentor substitutes another girl,
'\vhonl the hero presents to the king, and thus he obtains for hinlself
both the golden-haired virgin and the golden horse. 1
In a modern Greek popular tale the hero is nlarried to a princess,
and sees one day in her hair a snlall golden key, ,vhich he gently
removes, and with it opens a closet, vvhere all is dark '\vithin, but he
hears cries and groans. Ho discovers a ring fixed in a slab of
Inarble, ,vhich he raises, vvhen out comes a hideous black figure on a
winged horse, '\vhich rushes into the chamber of the princess, who is
forthvvith ,vhisked a\vay. The hero sets out in quest of his princoss,
and learns that the ravisher is a very po\verful magician,2 and that
the only nleans of successfully coping with him is to obtain a ,vinged
horse: a neighbouring mountain gives birth to one every year; he
Inust wait vvith patience and fortitude, for there are many vvild
beasts roanling about the place. After forty days' quaking and
trernbling,3 the mountain is delivered of a winged horse, which the
bereaved hero bridles and 111ounts, and soon subdues. To be brief,
having ascertained \vhere the princess \vas confined, he carries her
off in safety, though hotly pursued by the nlagician on his winged
steed, for his o\vn young horse ,vas nluch the swifter of the t\vo. 4
Variants of the legend of St. George and the Dragon' are conlnlon
to the folk-tales of almost every country. In an Albanian talc
(Dozon's French collection, No. XIV.) a young girl, disguised as a
soldier, comes to a city "\vhere a la11'da had long preyed on the popu-
lation, and the king's son was about to be given up to the Inonster.

1 lleC1w'il de Gontes popula'i1'es 8la·t:es, traduits sur les textes originaux


par Louis LegeI', Pads, 1882; No. XIX.
2 It does not appear how this powerful magician, with his winged horde,
should have been found in durance, with the princess for his gaoler. I sus-
pect sOluething is olnitted fronl this tale, and think it properly belongs to the
H Forbidden Hoom" cycle.

R. See ante, note 1, p. 287.


4 Rec1w'il de Cantes )JojJlIl{l'lrcs traduits sur les textes ol'iginaux par
EUlile Le Grand, Paris, 1881; No. XVII.
J.:'l1agic lIoTscs, Chariots, &c. 289
She slays the lamia, and obtains in re,vard " a horse that could speak."
By the advice of this gifted anilnal, the pretended soldier ,vins a
king's daughter, and in the end, after a series of perilous adventures
in ,vhich the horse took no slllall share, she is changed to a 111aU-
ll1uch to the satisfaction of the bride.
The sagacious Owl conducts Prince .AJUllOd al-Kanull to a cavern
in the rocky cliffs which surround Toledo. "A sepulchral lanlp of
everlasting oil shed a solenlll light through the place. On an iron
table in the centre of the cavern lay the Inagic arluour, against it
leaned a lance, and beside it stood an Arabian steed caparisonecl for
the field, but nlotionless as a statue. vVhen Ahlned laid his hand on
its neck, it pawed the ground and gave a loud neigh of joy that shook
the ,valls of the cavern." 1

l\fagicians seenl to have been particularly fond of changing their


victims into the form of a horse, if we may judge fronl the Arabian
Nights and other Eastern story-books; and theyassulned the same
fornl when it best suited their ,vickecl purposes. The J e,vs, like all
other Asiatic peoples, ,vere profound believers in sorcery and ,vitch-
craft-I say 1()8r8, for it is doubtful whether more thaD: a nl0iety of
them no,vadays have nluch belief in anything besides their shekels;
and the ,vritillgs of their rabbis abound in weird and \vonderful
legends of the Black Art, one of \vhich I give, as follo,vs, for \vhat
it luay be worth: It happened once, in the land of Africa, during a
certain nl0nth 'v hen the J e\vs are \vont to hold vigils and pray, that
a Inan, \vhose duty it \vas to knock at people's doors and rouse thcln
to devotion, found a horse in the street. lIe got on his back and
rode along, knocking at the doors; but the horse every monlent grew
larger and larger, till at last his backbone ,vas 300 ells from the
ground, and reached the pinnacle of the highest to\ver in the city.
There he left the n1an, and next morning the citizens found hila
there. N O\V you must know that that horse ,vas one of the race of
11lagicians. 2
1 Irving's Tales of tlw Allia1nbra.
2 The scene of this truly marvellous occurrence, it will be observed, is a
city in Africa, and the Maghrabi country-that is, the country in Northern
Africa west of Egypt-was the most fatuous school of sorcery; where indeed
U 2
290 Magical Elements in the Sq1IA1"C'S Talc.
There is nothing, perhaps, in the ,vide range of romantic fiction
which more exhibits the fertility or the hUluan fancy than the variety
of objects employed for rerial loconl0tion-from the n1agic horse to
the witch's broomstick-and each serving equally well the purpose.
Cousin-german to the Horse of Brass was the VV ooden Bird in the
Kalnluk Tale (" Relations of Siddhi Kur," No. n.), by means of
which the" rich youth" rescued his beloved fron1 her ravisher:
Six young ll1en set out on their travels together, and c0111illg to
the mouth of a great river they agreed to separate, and to meet at the
salne spot after a certain tilne had elapsed. Each planted a "tree of
life," "V hich by its being found vvithered would indicate that the
person it represented was either dead or in great peril, according to
its condition. 1 Five of the youths l1let at the place and tin1e ap-
and they discovered fronl the life-tree of their missing friend
was dead. Each of them was master of a craft: the first "vas
an astrologer; the second, a sn1ith; the third, a physician; the
fourth, a skilled nlechanic; the fifth was a painter. The astrologer
discovered by his art the spot where the body of their cOlnpanion lay,
under a great stone;" the smith broke the stone; and the physician
restored the youth to life. Then they learned fronl him ho\v he had
been married to a beautiful damsel; and how a wicked khan had
caused her to be stolen and hin1self to be slain. The astrologer soon
discovers the "gilded prison" of the damsel, in the khan's palace.
Then the m"echanic constructs a great vvooden bird, that could fly
rapidly by" the tllrnirig 'of a peg in its body; and the painter
decorated it most bealitifully. All being novv prepared, the
citated youth nlonnts the bird, turns the peg, and it soars high into
the air, and presently alights on the roof of the khan's palace, vvhence
he carries a,vay his beloved, and returns in safety.
This story is a Kalnluk form of one of the" Tvventy-five Tales of
a Valnpyre," 2 a Sanskrit collection which dates, at latest, from the

it still flourishes. The magicians who still practise their" enchantments" in


Cairo are, I understand, all Maghrabis. In the present instance the magician's
object was, of course, to prevent the n1an from calling the pious Jews to their
prayers.
1 For SOlne other examples of H life-tokens," see my Pop1tlar and
PicUons, vo!. i. p. 169 ff. 2 Vetala Pancharc'insati.
Magic Chariots, &0. 291
fifth cen tury of era, and of "\vhich there exist yersions in several
of the vernacular languages of India. It also occurs in the Tdti
or Parrot-Book, a l:lersian collection (of Indian extraction) by
Ziya ed-Din N akhshabi, ,vhere it is told to this effect:
A rich merchant of Kabul has a beautiful daughter named
Znhra (i. e. Venus), ,vho has nlany wealthy suitors, but she deelares
that she will nlarry only a 111an ,vho is conlpletely wise or very
skilful. Three young men present themselves before the l11erchant,
saying that if his daughter demands a n1an of skill for her husband,
either of theln should be eligible. The first youth says that his art
is to discover the "\vhereabouts of anything stolen or lost, and to pre-
dict future events. The second could n1ake a horse of wood, capable
of soaring through the air like SoIolnon's carpet. 1 l'he third was an
archer, and he could pierce any object at ,vhich he nlight ainl his
arrow. vVhen the merchant reported to his daughter the ,vonderful
acquirenlents of her three lle,v suitors, she promised to give her
decision next nlorning. But the same night she disappeared, and
the unhappy father sent for the three youths, to recover his daughter
by means of their arts. The first youth discovered that a div
(denlon, or giant) 2 had carried the (hunsel to the sUlllnlit of a moun-
tain "\vhich \vas inaccesfdble to nlen. The second constructed a
,vooden horse, and gave it to the third, who nlounted it, and very
speedily reaching the giant's den slew him vvith an arro,v, and
brought a,vay the l11aiden. "Each of thenl claimed her as his by
right, and the dispute continued." 3
Flying chariots prove excellent substitutes for flying horses, and
are ahnost as frequently enlployed by daring lovers. It is easy to
understand that this should be so in the case of purely Indian
rOll1anCeS and tales, since it is related in the Adi Parva, the first
1 Concerning which I shall have somewhat to say hereafter. In some MS.
texts of the Tuti the second youth says that he can tl'ansfonu his staff
into a flying horse, and a talisman which he possesses into a chariot that could
pel'fOl'lTI a month's journey in a single day.
2 1'he dil' of the Persians corresponds very nearly to the jinrl,i (or genie)
of Arabian mythology.
3 Readers fanliliar with Grimnl's .R-;intler- 1lnd Ha1ls.jJliirclwn will at once
recognize in the story of "The Four Clever Brothers" an interesting German
variant, and for others I take leave to refer to my Popular Tales and
}t7ictlons, vol. 1. p. 277 ff.
292 Magical Elc?nents in the Squire's .Tale.
book of the grand Hindu epic (or rather series of epics) the Mahd-
bluIrata, that Varuna, one of the early Veelic deities, furnished Krishna
and Aljuna not only ",vith celestial weapons, but also with cars of
such splendour that they delighted every creature that beheld thel11}
and they looked like evening clouds reflecting the effulgence of the
setting sun.-SoutheY9 in a note to his CU1'se of cites a
passage, as frOI11 Capt. Walford in an article in the Asiatic Researches,
giving what he calls" the history of the invention" of the
or self-nloving car of Hindu ll1ythology; but, since he does not con-
descend to indicate the VJIUnle of that in \vhich it may be found,
the reader lnust take it on trust. Fronl this it appears a relnarkable
sage named Rishi'ce'sa [7 Rishi-I{asha] nlarried the fifty daughters
of King Hyranyaverna, in the Kitli country, by ,vhonl he had one
hundred sons; and 'vhen he succeeded to the throne he built the
city of I.Jukhaverdhama, and constructed self-moving cars, in vvhich
he visited the gods.-This may be all very true, but according to the
Mahdbhdrata, Vis,vakarma ,vas the inventor of flying chariots. 1
In the noble Hindu drama of Sak'dntald, by Kalidasa (" the
Shakspeare of India," as he has been styled), Matali, the charioteer
of Indrct, takes King Dushmanta into the car, in order that he should
visit Sakuntala in Indra's paradise (in Kailasa); and on returning
the following colloquy takes place between them:
KING.
How wonderful is the appearance of the earth as we rapidly
descend!
Stupendous prospect! Yonder lofty hins
Do suddenly up rear their towering heads
Anlid the plain, while from beneath their crests
The ground, receding, shrinks; the trees, whose steIns
SeeIlled lately hid within their leafy branches,

1 Several notable celestial chariots occur in Greek mythology, IJ. g.: that
of Ares (lVfars), in which Aphl'odite (Venus), his sister, when wounded by Dio..
lllCd, is carried to heaven, to recover; that of Here (Juno), which has six-
wheels of brass, with iron axles and silver naves, golden rails and
harness, in which she and Athene go do·wn to help the Greeks; Achilles'
fanl0US chariot, with its spealdng horses (Homer's IUad, v. 364 tr.; v. 720 ;
xix. 3D2 ff.).-In Ovid's J1Iet. vii. 218-236, 350, &c., we have accounts of
IVledeia's journeys in Hekate's nocturnal chariot; and in the sanle is a
grand description of the chariot of Phmbus, so luisused by Phaethon. And in
the Orphid llyrnns (No. 27) wo have the lion-drawn chariot of CybeIC, the
" lVlother of the Gods."
jJfagic ]lot'scs, Gha??iots, (f;c. 293
Rise into elevation, and display
branching shoulders; yonder streams, whose waters
Like silver threads but now were seen,
Grow into mighty rivers ;-10! the earth
Seems upward hurled by SOUle gigantic power. 1

MATALI.
"VeIl described! [Looking 1V'itlt a1ve.] Grand, indeed, and lovely is the
spectacle presen ted by the earth I

KING.
Tell me, l\1atali, what is that range of nlountains, which, like a bank of
clouds illumined by the setting sun, pours down a streaUl of gold? On one
side, its base dips into the eastern ocean, and on the other side, into the
western.
MATALI.
Great Pri nce, it is called the Golden Peak, and is the abode of the
attendants of the God of Wealth [i. 8. Kuvera]. 2

vVe read in the Sinhdsana D'loatrinsati of a nlcrchant "vho had


contracted to luarry his son to the daughter of another 11lerchant, who
lived at son1e distance from hinl, and as only four days ren1ained
before the time appointed for the nuptials, he was in great anxiety,
because the city of the bride could not be reached "within that
period. 3 At this crisis, a carpenter con1es to the merchant with a
flying chariot, which he gladly purchases for a very large sunl of
nloney, and, by nleans of its nlagic po\ver, he and his son reach the
city in alnple time for the marriage.
At the end of the salne collection, Raja Vikranuiditya-vvboso
extraordinary luagnanimity and profuse liberality towards "aU sorts
and conditions of l11en" are extolled throughout it-ascends to
heaven (Indraloki) in a flying chariot which had been given to him
by the deity Inc1ra. 4

1 From these verses one might suppose that the great Indian dramatist
had himself been actually" up in a balloon," or some other kind of air-ship.
2 Sakoontala, or the Lost Ring. Translated into English prose and verse
by [SirJ IV[onier Williams. Hertford, 1858. Act vii. pp. 197-8.
3 The "auspicious" day--ay, and the precise hour of that day-for the
marriage would have been fixed, as usual, by an astrologer; and if the bride ..
groom did not make his appearance in time, the bride would probably have
been at once made over to another nJan. .
4 Cf. 2 Kings, ch. ii., v. 11: "And it came to pass, as they still went on
and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire,
and parted them both; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven."
294 }}!ag1:cal Ele'7nents in the Tale.

In the Bahdr-i Ddnush, or Spring (season) of Knowledge, a


Persian story-book avowedly derived from Hindll. sources, a skilled
carpenter constructs for Prince Hushang a throne that nlovecl rapidly
through the air, and it carries hiIn to the palace of the beauteous
princess of whonl he has beconle deeply enanloured. He takes her
up from the very nlidst of her attendants and flies off "vith her to
his own kingdom, where they are duly lllarricd-" and live happy
ever after. 7'

A Carpet, as an rerial conveyance, performs its part (in stories)


quite as satisfactorily as any other magical contrivance. carpet
which so swiftly carried the three brothers, in the ever-fresh Arabian
tale of Prince Ahnlecl and the Peri B{vnu, just in tinle to save their
dying cousin, will at once occur to every reader. In a Gipsy variant
of this tale a robe is substituted, "\vhich when you put on carried
you whither you \yould go."! And in the tale of Jonathas, in the
Gp-stet one of the three magical gifts \"hich his father
(" Godfridus, Enlperor of Ronle," no less 1) bequeathed him ,vas a
cloth having the like virtue.
This notion of a flying carpet was probably introduced into
Europe during the Middle Ages through rabbinical legends of S010-
nlon, who, it is said, " ordered the genii to weave him strong silken
carpets which might contain hilnself and his follo\vers, together \vith
all requisite utensils and equipage for travel. Whenever he desired
thereafter to 11lake a journey he caused one of these carpets of a
larger or snlaller size, according to the number of attendants, to be
spread out before the city, and as soon as all that he required ,vas
placed upon it he gave the signal to the eight ,vinds to raise it up.
lIe then seated hinlself on his throne, and guided them in whatever
direction he pleased, even as. a lllan guides his horses with bit and
reins." 2
1 1J'Iih'chen u'lI.Jd Liedel' dm' Zigeunm' del' B1l1wlVina, by Dr. Franz l\1ik10-
sich: Vienna, 1874. A flying carpet also occurs in a Polish tale, of which a
translation, under the title of " Hill-leveller and Oak-raser," will be found in
the UniveIJ's'ity Jlfagazine, 1867, vol. lxx., p. 138; and also in the old
]-'rench romance of lliohctrd sans PeuIJ'.
2 I /w Bible, the K01'an, and tlte 1aZ,mud, by Dr. G. 'Veil, 1846, pp.
f

184, 185.
J.lfagic H01"ses, Cha1"iots, 295

The idea of the flying carpet in the Arabian tale n1ay have been
taken fronl this rabbinical legend, or fronl the fable of the throne of
J anlshid, one of the ancient (and probably Inythical) kings of Persia,
'v ho, anlong nlany other ,vonderful feats, is said to have ereeted a
throne of unparalleled lllagnificence, enlbellished with pearls and the
lllost precious genls, and having seated himself thereon, c0111manded
his subject demons (for, like SOI0l1l0n, he ,vas lord of men and of
demons) to raise the throne up into the air, and carry him wherever
he ch?se to go.

Self-moving ships occur in the Eighth Book of the Odyssey; thus


Alcinous to Ulysses (Pope's paraphrase)-
So shalt thou reach the distant realm assigned,
In wondrous boats, self-moved, instinct with mind;
No helm secures their course, no pilot guide,
and so forth. In the old :French rOl1lanCe of Parrtenopex de Blois
(according to Rose)-
Self-moved, o'er sparkling wave the vessel flew,
The shore, receding, lessened frOll1 his view.
Hans, the Carl's Son, in the Icelandic tale, receives from a dwarf a
ship that he could carry in his pocket. "But ,vhen you like," he
explains, "you can have it as large as you need, even as large as a
seaworthy vessel; and one of its p01vers is that it goes with equal
speed against the ,vind and with it."l FrOl1l an old Gaelic tale,
possibly, "Ossian" l\tIacpherson derived the incident of an aged
Druid, called Sgeir, being carried to a distant island in a self-nloving
boat, no person being with hinl.
Spenser's description of a sinlilar fairy bark, in one particular,
recalls that of the Horse of Brass:
Eftsoones her shallow ship away did glide,
More swift than swallow sheres the liquid skye;
Withouten oar or pilot it to guide,
Or winged canvas with the wind to fly:
Onely ske t1{'1'nd a pin, and by and by
It cut away upon the yielding wave
(Ne cared she her course for to apply),·
For it was taught the way which she should have,
And both from rocks and flats itselfe could wisely save. 2

1 Powell and Magnusson's Legends of Iceland, Second Series.


2 l!'aerie B. H., c. 6, st. 5.
2D() .JtIagical Ele1nents in the J-'J(.{lti?"e's Tale.
1)008 not the" turning of a pin" strikingly resemble the process of
starting a stealu-engine TIut, n1ay hap, 80111e readers \vill despise llle
for comparing a fairy bark to a lnodern stean1boat! Is there no
poetry in a steam-engine Would not Spenser himself acknowledgo
that there is, could he re-visit the glil11pses of the luoon
In the Sinhdsana Dwatrinscdi a raja causes a clever carpenter to
construct for hiln a ship that could go through the ,vater \vithout the
aid of sails, and \vhen it is c0111pleted the r{tjtt clllbarks and sets out
in quest of a vvonderful tree. clever carpenter "-there can be
no doubt of it !

We have, I think, been long enough at sea in fairy barks,


That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide,
and may now feSU111e our rerial journeys in cODlpany \vith a few noted
vvizards-ancl witches; and, this tinlo, on a broo111stick and one or
t\VO other hUlllble things. A broolllstick! Did not Dean Swift
have his "1\:Ieditations on a Broonlstick" 7 And is it not a very
effective inlplement in the hands of a sturdy hOllsen1aid for softening
the ribs of noisy and thievish curs, \vhen they con1e prowling about
the kitchen-garden But why a brOoll1stick should have been, pa?'
excellence, the vehicle of \vitches in their journeys through lllid-air,
to nleet their " cunl111ers," and hold their infernal "sabbath," with
" Auld Nicky Ben" as the fitting master of the revels, is ahnost as
great a nlystery as is the existence in this country, till conlparatively
recent tilllCS, of belief in \vitchcraft itself. Besides riding en broon1-
sticks, witches have been known to cross stormy seas in sieves, and
oven egg-shells, and therefore one should always, after eating a boiled
egg, knock the spoon through the bOtt0111 of the shell, for to l11cnd
that is even beyond witchcraft. 1 But \vizards have not disdained to
ride on broon1sticks, though this see111S S0111e\Vhat strtl,nge.
Donald-Duival MCI(ay, who lllay be styled the JYlichael Scott of
in Sutherlandshire, is believed to have learnt the black art in
Italy; and he could at any tinle travel to that country and back in
1 In the tale of Hasan of Basra (Arabian Nights) an old witch called
Shawahi is said to have ridden from place to place on a Greek jar of red
earthen ware.
ltlagic Horses, Chariots, &c. 207
one night, "soTIleti111es alighting covered ,vith tho frosts and sno,vs
of the high regions which he had traversed on the traditionary
brooll1stick." I-Doctor Torralava, a Spanish ll1ugician, in 1520, at
Valladolid, " told Diego de Zunija of his intentions, inforlning him
that he had the llleans of travelling to Rome vvith extraordinary
rapidity; that he had but to place hiInself astride a stick, and he
was carried through the air by a cloud of fire" 2 ;-had he added, and
b1'i1nstone, one 111ight, perhaps, credit hill1. As it is, Diego de Zunija
seenlS to have had nothing l110re for it than the Doctor's word. But,
scepticism aside, why did such past nlasters of nlagic not adopt a
more dignified conveyance, like the Polish ,vizard with his painted
horse Probably because they were not proud!
In a Persian r01nance, the hero, Farrukhrllz, receives a staff from
a venerable devotee, together with these "vords of instruction and
warning: "This staff is nlade fronl the cocoa-nut tree of Ceylon, and
one of its nunlerous properties is, that it conveys its o,vner safely
through all dangers to the place of his destination. l'he various
genii and sorcerers harbouring enll1ity to,vards mankind aSSUllle
different forll1s, and infest the road, and acco111plish the ruin of
nlany travellers. There is no doubt but they ,vill also lay snares for
you; and should you be so foolish as to lose this staff, you ,vill fall
into troubles frolll "\vhich you 111ay never escape." 3
But a staff, when properly" enchanted," has been known to do
other things besides carrying its lllaster through mid-air. The staff
of the notorious Maj or \V eir, for instance, who was burned as a
,vizard at Edinburgh in the early part of last century, served the
purpose of a 111an-servant, opening the door to visitors, and, it is
even said, running on errands! And 111any readers are probably
acquainted ,vith Lucian's story, in his Philopseudes, that Pancrates,
an Egyptian 111agician, being in want of a servant, caused his pestle to
f8tch ,vater and perfornl many other household duties. It happened
onc day, while Pancrates vvas fronl home, that his pupil, finding it
was necessary to procure a fresh supply of water, and being too lazy
1 "Folk-Lore in Suthel'landshire," by lVIiss Dempster, in the Folk-LoJ'e
JourNal, 1888, vol. vi. p. 152.
2 VVrighL's J.VllJ''j·atit'cs of Sorcer?! and ]Jlagi(!, vol. ii. p. 3.
3 Clollstou's Group of llama ne('s a'ntl Storie,') (1889), p. 15H.
298 Magical Ele1nents in the Tale.
to fetch it hilllself, llluttered SOlne nlystical "\yords over the postle,
which he had heard his IIlaster pronounce "\vhen he desired it to
bring ,vater. Greatly to his delight, the pestle started off with
alacrity and soon returned with a supply, ,vhich having enlptied, it
again and again went for nlore, till the ,vhole house was flooded.
The youth now sa"\y, though he kne"\y ho"\v to start the pestle as a
"\vater-carrier, he did not know ho\v to cause it to cease. In despair,
he chopped the pestle into a nunlber of pieces, but this nlade n1atters
infinitely worse, for each separate piece at started off on. its own
account as a \vater-carrier! Moral-" A little knowledge is a danger-
ous thing." 1
Wooden autolnata, ,vhother purported to be Inade by 111agical art
or Inerely lllechanical contrivances, are frequently nlentioned by
ancient Greek and Indian authors. In the Kathd Sarit Sdga1 a 1

(Ta,vney, i. 257) it is stated that a Vidyadharl, nanlod SOlllaprabha-


having, for an offence in the celestial regions, been condennled to be
re-born as a hU111an being and to continue on the earth for a certain
tinle-in order to aUluse her fenlale c0111panion, constructed me-
chanical dolls of "\vood by her rnagic. One of them, on et pin being
touched, "vent through the air at her orders, and quickly returned
"\vith a garland; another in like 11lanner fetched ,vater, another
danced, and another even talked. 2 But there is in the sanlO collec-
tion (i. 290) an account of wooden automata ,vhich is 111uch morc
astonishing-if true: I{ing N aravahanadatta, vvith his lllinister,
conles to a city, "of vast extent, on the shore of the sea, furnished
"\vith lofty ll1ansions resenlbling the peaks of rnountains, with streets,
and arches, adorned with a palace all golden like l\fount l\leru,
looking like a second earth. He entered that city by the 111arket-
street, and beheld that all the population, ll1erchantEl, "\vo111en, and
citizens, were wooden automata that llloved as if they 'Nere alive,
but were recognized as lifeless by their "\vallt of speech. This aroused

1 Goethe turned this droll story in to verse.


2 '].1hi8 is the only instance I have met with of aut0111ata, made by magic,
being endowed with the power of speech. In the case of the one thousand
wooden parrots Inade by a carpenter, in the story of Panch-phul Ranee (Old
IJeecan Day.>;, No. 9), these were capable of talking in consequence of two
deities having endowed them with life. '
29D

astonishnlont in his mind. And in due course he arrived, ,vith his


lllinist,er, near the king's palace, and sa,v that all the horses and
elephants there were of the sanle Inaterial; and ,vith his nlinister he
entered, full of ,yonder, that palace, 'v hich was resplendent ,vith
seven ranges of golden buildings. Thore he saw a 11lajestic 11lan
sitting on a jewelled throne, surrounded by ,vardcrs and ,vomell, who
were also \vooden -automata, the only living being there who produced
motion in dull material things, like the soul presiding over the
senses."
If Favorinus and others Inay be creditod, Archytas the Tarentine,
a disciple of Pythagoras (B.O. 400), made a wooden dove that vYD,S
capable of flying. But this feat was surpassed-granting its possi-
bility-by Jannelius Turrianus. After Charles V. had laid the
kingdonl aside and ,vas living in retirelnent (says Strada, in his
Book), Turrianus, to amuse hinl, would place upon the table armed
figures of men and horses j sonle beating drunls, others blo\ving
trumpets, and other little figures of fierce aspect, 11laking assaults
,vith couched spears; and sonletinles he brought out slnall wooden
sparrows that flew round and round.

.A. DESIRE to pry into futurity, to get behind the veil, so to say,
which conceals COIning events-of which King Saul's traffic with
the 'Witch of Endor is an ancient and notable example-or to ascer-
tain what may be occurring at some distant place, has doubtless been
felt occasionally by the majority of 11len. It can hardly, howevel",
be supposed to have a firnl hold of any but minds Ul0re or less
tinctured with superstition, ,vhose general ignorance affords a willing
prey to charlatans pretending to be adepts in the so-called arts of
luagic and necronlancy. Chalc1ea was the land where nlagic flourished
pre-eminently in the days of the world's youth; and at the pi>escllt
day an unquestioning belief in the po,ver of magicians, geolnancers:,
exorcisers,,, and kindred inlpostors sways the minds of Asiatics C,vith
few exceptions), from the prince in his gorgeous palace to the poor
300 JJfagical Elcrncnts the /--'{qfliiTC'S Tale.

peasant in his clay or 'wooden cabin. In Europe du ring the l\1iddle


Ages, and even for sonle centuries later, the pseudo-sciences of
astrology and n1agic were sedulously studied and practised, on lines
borrowed from the East; and al110ng the nunlerous contrivances of
the Sidrophels, who professed to "deal in Destiny's dark counsels,"
Magic Mirrors were 111uch in vogue. Usually a lnagician ·was
required to cause such a mirror to foreshadow COIning events, or
exhibit on its polished surface scenes which "were being enacted in
sonle far-off land; but the Mirror vvhich the Indian cavalier brought
for the lady Canace appears to have been self-acting. lIe thus
describes its vyondrous properties:
This mirour eek, that I have in n1Yl1 hond,
Hath sueh a mighte, that IneH n1ay in it see
vVhen ther sehal falle eny advel'site
Unto your regne, or to your self also,
And openly, who is your frend or fOe
And over al this, if eny lady bright
Hath set hi1' hert on eny nlanner wight,
If he be fals, sehe sehal his tresoun see,
His newe love, and his subtilite,
So openly, that ther sehall nothing hyde."

While the Indian ambassador is at dinner in the chaulber assigned


to him, the people are busily engaged in discussing the strange nature
of the royal gifts :
And sorne of hem 1 wondred on the nlirl'our,
That born was up into the maister tour,2
How men might in it suehe thinges se,

And sayde that in Rome was such 0011.

A.ccording to a conlmentator, vve have here" an allusion to a 11lagical


i1nage said to have been placed by the enchanter Virgil in the 111iclcllo
of which C0111ll1Unicated to the elllperor Titus all the secret
offences cOl1nnitted every day in the c/Uy." It is very evident, hovv-
ever, that Chaucer does not refer to an irnage but to a 1nir'tor similar
to that presented to Canace -" in R0111e vvas such oon. " In one of
our oldest English 111etrical versions of the Seven lVz·se 'VG

are told of the enchanter Merlin - that

1 .lImn = them. 2 The chief tower, called the donjon.


301
lIe 111ade in Rome thourow clergyse }
A pileI' that stode fol heyghe,
Heyer wel than ony tour,
And ther-oppon a'lny1']'oUJO,
That schon over al the toun by nyght,
As hyt ,vere day light,
That the wayetys 2 myght see
Yf any man come to [the] cite
Any harme for to doon,
The cite was warnyd soone. 3
Most probably Chaucer ,vas acquainted \vith this version of the
story, and did not refer to the iInage, rather inlages, \vhich Virgil
is said to have also set up in ROlne, and of which S0111e account ,vill
be given presently. Go,ver introduces Virgil's Inagic lnirror in his
A 1nantis as follows: 4
Whan Rome stood in noble pli3t,
Virgile, which was tho 5 parfi3t,
A miI'rour made, of his clergie, 6
And sette it in the tounes y he, 1
Of marbre, 8 on a pilleI' withoute,
That they, be thritty nlile aboute,9
By'day and eke alHo be l1ighte,
In that mirroure beholde m i3te,
I-Im'e 10 enemies, if eny were,
vVith all here 10 ol'denauncc there,
Which they ayein 11 the citee caste.
So that, whil thilke Inirrour laste,
TheI' was no lond, which mi3t achieue,
vVith 'werre, Rome: for to grieue,
vVherof was gret enuic tho. 5

1 Olel'gyse, or clergie = skill; magic art.


2 Wayetys = watchmen; sentinels.
3 From a of Tlw SeL'en Sages, of ahout the end of the fourteenth
century, preserved at Oambridge, printed for the Percy Society, undf:n' the
cditorship of Thomas story adds that the enlperor was nlnde to
believe that a great treasure was buried at the foot of the tower, which he
caused to be pulled down, and the people, in great wrath,
token of gold a grete bal,
And letten gryude hyt ryght smal,
And puttyn out hys eyen two,
And fylden the hol.Jys folle bathe,
Ifis eyen, his nose, and hys tbrote,
r:rbay fylden wit golde every grate;
Thus they were at on accent,
For to gyfe hYUl that juggeuleut.
Harl. 1\1:S. 7184, in Brit. Mus., 1. 88, col. 2; Pauli's cd., ii. n. Y. p. 195.
Then. 6 Learning; skill; ingp'l1uity.
Eye: i. e. in the centre of the city? 8 Marble.
!) 1'hey had a radius of thil't.y nli1es under surveillance.
10 Their, 11 Against.
302 Magical Ele1nents in the J--C{qraire's Tale.
But there is another early English metrical vorsion of the Seven
Wise Masters, vrhich may also have been known to Chancer, and in
which both a D1agic in1age and a mirror are described as having been
constructed by Virgil : 1
Dpon pe est 3ate of pe toun
He made a man of fin 2 ]atoun,3
And in his hond of gold a balo
D pon pe 3ate on the west wal
Virgil kest 4 an ymage opeI',
Ri3t als hit were his owen broper,
pat al pe folk of Rome said,5
vVip pat La1 to gider pai plaid,
pat on hit hente,6 pat oper hit prew ;
Manie a nlan pe 801' i-knew.
Anlideward pe cite, on a stage,
Virgil made anoper ymage,
pat held a mirour in his hond,
And ouerseg3 al pat lond.
Who wolde pas,7 who wolde baUdlle,
Quik he warned pe toun, saunz faile,
About Rome seuen jurneys,
pous he warned ni3 t and dais,
And po 8 pat were rebel i-founde,
pe Romains gadered heln 9 in a stounde,lO
pai wente pider quik
And destrued here 11 fon. 12
The Inagic images-withont the 111irror-are fully described in the
Lyfe of Virgilius,13 which was probably translated from the French,
and 1vhich is reprinted in Thorns' Early English Prose R07Jlances:
" The e111pcrour asked of Virgilius ho,ve that he lllight Dlak ROD1.0
prospere and haue nlany lancles under thenl, and kno\ve when any
lande vvolde rise agen theY111; and Virgilius said to the Clnperourc,
, I ,voU within short space that do.' And he nlade vpon the Capito-
liunl, that was the to,vne house, 111ade with carued ynluges, and of
stone; and that he let call Saluacyon ROnlG, that is to say, this is

1 1\11'. J. T. Clark, Keeper of the Advocat.es' Library, Edinburgh, has kindly


compared the following extract with the original in the Auchinleck MB.,
preserved in that rich literary treasury. 2 Fin = fine.
3 Laton'Yt = a kind of mixed metal, of the colour of brass.
4 I(6st = cast. 5 Said == ? saw. 6 Hente = caught.
7 Pas = pass. 8 Tlw = those. 9 H(}]n = them.
10 StoU/nde = place. 11 IIeJ'e = their. 12 ]11rn = foes.
13 "17ds boke tl'eateth of the lyfe of ViJ'giU1M, and of lds deth, and many
'lllal'vayles that lw dyd in hys lyfe ty1ne by TVhyolwJ'ajte and ;NY(J7'a?Jla /lc?/c
l

tllo?'ough tlJ;e llOlpe of the devyls of hell." (Title of the Douce 1\18.)
303
the Sal uacyon of the cytie of ROlne; and he 111ude in the compace all
the goc1des, that we call malnettes and Jfdolles, that were under the
Sllbiection of Ron1e; and euery of the goddes that there were had in

his hande a bell; and in the 11lydle of the godes lllac1e he one god of
R01l1e. And when soever that there was any lande wolde nlake ony
warre ageynst Ronle, than ,volde the godes tourne theyr backes
towarde the god of· Rome; and than the god of the lande that wolde
stande up ageyne Roule clynked his bell so longe that he hath in his
hande, tyll the senatours of ROllle hereth it, and forthwith they go
there and see what lande it is that ,vyll ,varre a gaynst thenl; and so
they prepare thelY1 and subdueth thenl."
John Lydgate, in his Bochcts-follo,ving Gervase of Tilbury, or
Alexander Neckham, perhaps-reproduces this story, in speaking of
the Pantheon:
vVhich was a tenlple of old foundation,
Ful of ydols, set up on hye stages;
There throughe the worlde of every nacion
Were of theyr goddes set up great ymages,
To euery kingdonl direct \vere their visages,
As poets and Fulgens by his live
In bookes old plainly doth descrive.
Every ymage had in his hande a bell,
As apperteyneth to every nacion,
vVhich by craft some tol{en should tell
vVhan any kingdonl ftl in rebellion, &c.

It is said that Virgil also constructed for the Roman emperor a


palace in which he ll1ight see and hear all that was done and said in
every part of the city-perhaps by S0111e peculiar arrangement of
reflectors, or 11lirrors-and this palace the Chaucer COlllnlentatol' lllay
have confounded with the lllagic image.
All10ng nlany other wonderful achievenlents of the Virgil of
Inedireval legend, ,ve learn, froIn Gervase of Tilbury's Otia I7nlJeri-
that he set up a brazen fly on one of the gates of Naples,
,vhich renlained there eight years, during ,vhich tinle it did not
perlllit any flies to enter the city. On another gate he placed t,vo
inllnense iInages of stone, one of which ,vas handsonle and of a ulerry
visage, the other was deformed and of a sad countenance; and who-
over passed by the forUler becau1e prosperous, \vhile such as Ca111e
near the latter ,vas ever afterwards unfortunate in all his affairs. He
LANE. x
304 l1fagical Elernents in the Sq1.tirre's Tale.

also made a fire in the open air, at ,vhich everyone might freely
warnl hinlself, and near it was placed a brazen archer, with ho'v and
arrow, and bearing the inscription, "If anyone strike me, I will
shoot lily arrow." One day a blockhead struck the archer, ,vho shot
him with his arrow and sent hilll into the fire, ,vhich instantly
disappeared.
Magical images are of frequent occurrence in Eastern r0111anCeS
and tales, l)ut their power is usually to be subdued by sonle simple
lneans, kindly COlll111unicated to the hero by an aged sage, desirous
of helping to a successful issue his perilous adventure. Thus in the
tale of "J tidal' of Cairo and Mahluud of ,ve have a graphic
description of the hall of an enchanter, ,vhich is guarded by t\VO
copper statues '\vith bo'ws in their hands; but" as soon as they take
aiul at you, touch their bows ,vith your s,vord, and they ,vill fall
from their hands." 1
In the Arabian tale of "The City of Brass" it is related that on
a high hill was a horsenlan of brass, on the top of ,vhose spear ,vas a
glistening head that alUlost deprived the beholder of sight, and on it
,vas inscribed, "0 thou ,,,ho comest unto l11e, if thou kno,veBt not
the ,vay to the City of Brass, rub the hand of the horselnan, and he
·will turn and then ,vill stop; and in whatever direction he stoppeth
thither proceed, without fear and \vithout difficulty; for it ,vill lead
thee to the City of Brass." And when the Elll1r 1Illsa had rubbed
the hand of the horseman, it turned like lightning and faced a differ-
ent direction froIn that in which they ,vere travelling. The shaykh
Abd es-Samad enters the city, and sees in the nliddle of one of the
gates a figure of a hOrSelllan of brass, having one hand extended as
though he ,vere pointing with it; and on the figure was an inscrip-
tion, which the shaykh read, and lo! it contained these vvords:
" Turn the pin that is in the llliddle of the front of the horscluan's
body twelve times, and then the gate ,vill open." So he exanlined
the horselnan, and in the place indicated was a pin, which he turned
twelve times, whereupon the gate opened imnlediately ,vith a noise
like thunder, and the shaykh Abd es-Samad entered. 2
1 Kh'by's N81V A1'abian Nfglds, not inoluded in Galla1ld or Lane, p. 215.
2 Lane's .il'rabian J\T/gIll s, vol. iii. pp. 119, 130, 131.
Magic Mi1'7'01'1S and I1nages. 305

'Ve Ineet with a singular Inagical contrivance in the tale of the


l'hird Kalandar, or Royal Mendicant: On the summit of a load-
stone nlountain is a horsenlun of brass on a steed of brass, on the
forlner of \vhich is a tablet of lead, inscribed tvith nlystical names,
suspended from his neck, and it is decreed that when the brazen
rider shall be thro\vn down from his horse the son of King Ajib shall
be slain.!
If we may consider Washington Trving's Tales of the Alha1nbra
as being based on old l\Ioorish legends still surviving in Granada-
and I see no !'eason for a contrary opinion-the notion of Virgil's
magical images was probably introduced into Europe through the
Arabs who settled in Spain in the eighth century. In Irving's
" Legend of the Arabian Astrologer" it is said: "He caused a great
tower to be erected on the top of the royal palace, which stood on
the bro\v of the hill of Albaycin. . . . On the top of the to\ver ""vas
a bronze figure of a Moorish horsenlan, fixed on a pivot, \vith a shield
on one arn) and his lance elevated perpendicularly. The face of this
horsenlan was towards the city, as if keeping guard over it; 1:>u.t if
any foe were at hand, the figure \vould turn in that direction and
would level the lance as if for action." 2
All the nlagical machinery in the nlediooval romance of Duke
Huon of Burdeux is traceable to Eastern sources. When that bold
champion reaches Dunother, the residence of the giant Angolaffar, he
discovers t,vo men of brass ceaselessly beating their iron flails before
the gate, so that no nlan can enter the castle alive. Seeing also a
golden basin fastened to a nlarble pillar, he strikes the basin thrice
,vith his s\vord, and the sound of the blows reaches Sebylla, a dalllsel
imprisoned in the fortress. She perceives Huon from a \vindo\v, and
fears that the giant will slay him. Then she goes to a windo\v near
the gate, and discovers from his shield that the stranger is from
France. She finds that the giant is asleep, and so ventures to open

1 I-Jane's A'rab'ian Niglds, vol. i. p. 165.


2 In Geoffrey of Monmouth, vii. c. 3, Merlin prophesies that a brazen man
on a brazen horse shall guard the gates of London:"-a prediction which is not
likely to be fulfilled; unless, perhaps, one of the equestrian statues which dis-
figure the nletropolis should be removed to the mouth of the Thalues.
x 2
306 Magical Elernents in the Tale.
a wicket, which causes the lllen of brass to stand at rest, and thus
Huon is enabled to enter with safety. 1
In the great Persian epic, the SikanduJ' N arna, or Alexander-
Book, by Nizami, we read that Apollonius of Tyana erected a stone
inlage-a talisnlan-which had its face veiled, and c0111pelled every
woman ,vho passed by also to veil her face.
According to the old Spanish legend, when Don Roderie had
caused all the steel locks on the doors of the nlagic tower near Toledo
to be opened, which was not done without difficulty, nlany men tried
to push open the door without success; but at the touch of the king's
hand it rolled back of itself with a harsh grating noise. Entering an
ante-hall they beheld a door in the opposite wall, and before it a
fierce-featured figure of bronze constantly whirled a Inetal club,
which, striking the hard flooring, caused the clang that had dis-
mayed the crowd when the door opened. On the breast of the figure
,vas a snlall scroll, inscribed, "I do nlY duty." Roderic tells the
figure that he has not conle to violate this sanctuary, but to inquire
into the nlystery it contains. " I conjure thee, therefore, to let me
pass in safety." Upon this the figure paused with uplifted 111 ace,
and the king and his train passed unnl01ested through the door. 2

To return to the Magic Mirror of our Tale, to which nlost of the


mechanical contrivances noted ahove were near akin, being designed
to serve very nluch the sanle purposes. The nlirror ,vhich that fine
old humbug Reynard the Fox asserts he had lost among other
precious jewels 'was apparently endowed with especial-and 1110st
valuable-properties, as well as with those of nlagic mirrors gener-
ally. This is his account of its ,vonderful qualities: "No,v ye shal
here of the lllirrour. l'he glas that stode ,theron ,vas of suche vertu
that 11len 11lyght see therin all that ,vas don within a l1lyle, of l1len, of
beestis, and of aI, thynge that men wold desire, to wyte, and kno,ve.
And what 111an loked in the glasse had he any dissease, of prickyng,

1 1'/w Bolw of Duke IIllon of Bu?'deu,'l}: Lord Berners' translation, edited


by Sidney L. Lee. Pul>liHhed for the Early English rrext Society. Pp. 98, DD.
, 2 Washington Trving's 8}Jani'sh Papers,
307
or 1110tes, S111arte, or pedes in his eyen, he shold be anon heled of it.
Suche grete vertue had the glas." 1
One of the most celebrated luagic nlirrol's ,vas the Cup of J am-
shid, fourth of the first, or Pishdadian, dynasty of Persian kings,
who belong to the fabulous and unchronicled age. This cup, or
ll1irror, is said to have enabled J amshid to observe all that was pass-
ing in every part of the ,vorId, and it ,vas afterwarJs elnployed by
the great Khusrau-if ,ve may credit the Shdh or Book of
I(illgs, the grand epic of Firdausi, the Persian Honler (ob. A.D. 1020)
-for the purpose of discovering the place of the h 01'0 Rustanl's
inlprisonment :
The mirror in his hand revolving shook,
And earth's whole surface glimmered in his look;
Nor less the secrets of the starry sphere,
The what, the when, the how, depicted clear;
From orbs celestial to the blade of grass,
All nature floated in the Magic G1a8s. 2

According to D'Herbelot, the Asiatics derived the notion of such a


magic nlirror from the divining cup of the patriarch Joseph, or
Nestor's cup in HOll1er, on which all nature was sYl1lbolically repre-
sented. But it is ll1uch more likely that it had its origin with the
ancient Chaldean nlagicians. There is every reason to believe, in
fact, that the Persian poets, in their legendary recitals of the exploits
of heroes of antiquity, adapted their magical elenlents from traditions
of their ancestors, the Fire-\vorshippers. In the Sikandar of
Nizami the royal hero is represented as possessing no fewer than
three 111agic specula of different properties: a nlirror of the stars; a
111irror of the seasons; and the Sikandariya 111irror, that gave intelli-
gence of the coming of the Europeans-the prototype of the lady

1 Tlte Hystol'ye of Reyna'}'(l tlw Fowe (translated from the old Dutch
ReynaeJ't die Fos), printed by Caxton in 1481.
2 Jamshid is the Solomon of the Persians. He was, says Mirkhond,
"unrivalled and unequalled anlongst morta1s in perfection of understanding,
beauty of person, soundness of experience, and purity of morals. His sway
extended over the seven climes, and men and genii ,vere alike subject to his
power. He is said to have requested God that death, disease, and the infirm-
ities of age might be reuloved from among mankind; and, his prayer being
granted, not one individual in his kingdom was seized with any of these
calaluities during the space of three hundred years."
308 .lJlctgical in the Sq1ti1"e's Tale.
Canace's luagic glass and of the images and 111irror set up in Rome by
Virgil, which also gave notice of the advance of an eneIllY.
In Spenser's Faerie Queene, ]1. Ill. C. ii. st. 18-21, the Red
Cross Knight shows Brandonlart the irnage of Artegall in a magic
glass, and she instantly falls in love "\vith Artegall, as Eastern
princes-in stories-beCOIl1e desperately enamoured of beautiful
dall1Sels, frOIl1 seeing their portraits:
By straunge occasion she did him
And much more straungely gan to love his sight.,
As it. in bookes hath written beene of old.
In Deheubarth, that now South vValIs is hight,
What time King Ryence raignd and dealed right,
The great l\iagi tien Merlin had devizd,
By his deepe science and hell-dreaded nlight,
A Looking-glasse, right wondrously aguizd,l
Whose vertues through the wyde world soone were solemnizd.
It vertue had to shew in perfect sight
Whatever thing was in the world contaynd,
Betwixt the lowest earth and hevens hight,
So that it to the looker a,ppertaynd:
""Vhatever foe had wrought, or frend had faynd,
Therein discovered was, ne ought mote pas,
Ne ought in secret fron1 the same remaynd ;
}-"orthy 2 it round and hollow shaped was,
Like to the world itselfe, and seemd a World of Glas.
'Vho wonders not, that reades so wonderous worke ?
But who does wonder, that has red the Toure
"Therein th' Aegyptian Phao long did lurke
From all mens vew, that none might. her discoure,
Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre?
Great Ptolomree it for his Lenlans sake
Ybuilded all of glasse, by magicke powre,
And also it inlpregnable did make;
Yet when his love was false, he with a peaze 3 it brake.
Such was the glassy Globe that Merlin nlade,
And gave unto King Ryence for his gai'd,
That never foes his kingdome might invade,
But he it knew at home before he hard
Tydings thereof, and so them still debard :
It was a famous present for a prince,
And worthy work of infinite reward,
rrhat treasons could bewray and foes convince:
Happy this realme, had it remayned ever since!
l'ho l\foorish magicians, or necromancers, had, it is said, a
stone, to )vhich nlany strange properties ,yore since they
1 Accoutred-dressed. 2 Therefore. 3 vVith a violent blow.
Magic and Images. 309
T.llaintained that they could discover in it any scene they desired to
behold. Thonlson has introduced this magical 111irror in his Castle
of Indolence (Canto I. st. 49) :
One great aU1usement of our household was
In a huge crystal magic globe to spy,
Still as you turned it, all things that do pass
Upon this ant-hill earth; where constantly
Of idly-busy D1en the restless fry
Uun bustling to and fro with foolish haste,
In search of pleasures vain that from them fly,
Or which, obtained, the caitifl's dare not taste :
'Vhen nothing is enjoyed, can there be greater waste?
'This crystal globe was called the" l\firror of Vanity."-Piers Plo\v-
lHan, in his Vision, had also the privilege of looking into a sinlilar
luagic specultllll :
In a luirrour hight midle earth she made me loke,
Si then she sayd to me, "Here mightest thou se wonders."

In Call10enS' Lusiad, Canto x., a globe is sho,vn to Vasco da Gallla,


representing the universal fabric of the "\Yorld, in ,vhich he sees future
kingdollls and events. And Shakspeare says that the la,v,
like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils
Are now to have no successive degrees.!
Dr. Sprat (Bist. of R. S., Pt. 11. sect. xvi. p. 97) thus alludes to the
use of glasses in incantations: "'Tis true, the nlind of man is a glass,
,vhich is able to represent to itself all the ,vorks of nature; but it can
only sho,v those figures which have been brought before it ;-it is no
magical glass, such as that \vith which astrologers use to deceive the
ignorant, by l11aking them believe that therein they behold the inlage
of any place or person in the ,vorld, though never so far removed
f1'0111 it." 2
Pausanias states that divination by llleans of mirrors was in use
alllong the Achaians, where" those who were sick and in danger of
1 MeaS1l1'e for Measllre, Act 11. sC, 2.
2 "Mirror" was a favourite title for books in the :M:iddle Ages, e, g.
Speculum Historiale of Richard of Cirencester and of Vincent de Beauvais;
SpeClIl1tllt Hu,'lli,allaJ of Bishop Grosstete; Lord Buckhurst's lIIirl'O/'
fOl' .lJIagistJ'ate.f5" and in modern tinles TIle lJIi1'ror, a weekly periodical, in
imitation of Addison's Sp(}ctatol', &c" conducted at Edinburgh by Henry
l\iackenzie, author of 'L'lle J1Ian of Feeling,. 1'1te 1I£i1'1'o1' for so many years
edited by the late John Timbs.
810 Magical .l!}le1nents in the sTale.
death let do"wn a looking-glass, fastened by a thread, into a fountain
before the teulple of Ceres; then if they sa,v in the glass a ghastly dis-
figured face they took it as a sure sign of death j but if the face ap-
peared fresh and healthy it ,vas a token of recovery. Sonletilnes glasses
were used ,vithout ,vater, and the images of future things ,vere repre-
sented in them." In Italy, in order to divine theft, a damsel ap-
proached a phial of holy water with a lighted taper of sanctified \vax,
saying, "Angelo bianco, angelo santo, per la tua santita et per la
nlea virginita nostra Ini, che la tolto tal cosa " (i. e. 'vhite angel, holy
angel, by the sanctity of nlY virginity, sho\v nle the thief); a11d the
querent beheld a di·minutive figure of the offender in the phial. 1
story is generally known of Cornelius Agrippa, at the Italian
court, sho,ving the gallant and poetical Earl of Surrey in a magic
glass his Geraldine, reclining on a couch and reading one of his
sonnets; but though it is still repeated in biographical notices of the
poet, it rests on no better authority than Tonl Nash, \vho ,vas
probably its inventor.
Roger Bacon, in his Opus Magus, wl'itten about the year 1270,
describes various slJecula, or mirrors, and explains their construction
and uses. And John of Salisbury mentions a sort of diviners called
specularii, who predicted future events and told various secrets by
consulting 111irror8 and the surface of other polished and reflecting
substances. 2
What purports to be the nlagic nlirror ,vith \vhich the famous
Doctor Dee and his assistant Kelly invoked spirits is preserved in
the British Museum. It is described as "a flat polished nlineral,
like cannel coal, of a circular form, and fitted with a handle." Dee
,vas a theurgist, and iluagined that he held comnlunication \vith
celestial beings. " As he was one day engaged in devout meditation
(November, 1582), he says there appeared to hiIll the angel Uziel, at
the west ,vindo'v of his museum, who gave him a translucent stone,
or crystal, of a convex form, that had the quality, when intently
surveyed, of presenting apparitions, and even emitting sounds, in

1 IUm/ltaldus consiUa in caU8a ,q'J'ctt' iss'il1tllS, quoted by Dalyell in his


IJa1'ker Sllpe'J'stiUons of Scotland, p. 520.
2 vVarton's J-list01'y of l!}ngl'is!t Poet'J'Y.
Mag'i() and 311

consoquence of which the observer could hold conversations, ask


questions, and receive ans\vers fronl the figures he saw in the nlirror. 1
I t ,vas often necessary that the stone should be turned one way and
another, in different positions, before the person who consulted it
gained the right focus; and then the objects to he observed ,vould
sho,v thenlselves on the surface of the stone, and S01118-
times in different parts of the rOOln, by virtue of the action of the
stone." 2
Elias Ashlll01e, in his speaks of Doctor
Dee's 111irror in these teralS: "By the aid of this nlagic stone, ,ve can
see ,vhatever persons ,ye desire, no nlatter at ,vhat part of the ,Yorld
they ll1ay be, and \vere they hidden in the nlost retired apartnlents,
or even the hidden caverns in the bo,vels of the earth." But the
stone preserved in the British l\IuSeU111 as "Doctor Dee's J\fagic
Mirror" is certainly not the stone ,vith ,vhich he and Ed ward l{elly,
for his" skryer," invoked spirits, since that was a globe of crystal.-
vv. Harrison in one of his or novels, nlakes
Doctor Dee exhibit in his 11lagic glass, after burning certain herbs in
a brazier, the scene of the vault beneath the Parlianlent-house, filled
,vith barrels partly covered '\vith faggots, and after\vards Fa,vkes
hinlself stretched upon the ,vheel, and ,vrithing in the agonies of
torture. He also represents Dee as C0111nlUnicating the Plot to
Sali8bury: if he really did so, he had probably much n10re reliable
information than any that his nlirror could afford hinl !
Butler thus refers to l(e11y's perforlnances with Doctor Dea's
mirror (Hudibras, Part rI., Canto iii., 11. 631-2) :
Kelly did all his feats upon
The devil's looking..glass-a stone;

on ,vhich Dr. Nash relnarks: "The poet nlight here ternl this stone
the 'devil's looking-glass' frorn the use which Dee and I{elly made

1 In a Hungarian tale there occurs a looking-glass that has power to


speak-see Magyar FoUl-Tales, translated by Jones and Kropf (Folk-Lore
Society, 1889), p. 165. And in one of Grin1m's tales a queen says: "Mirror,
Inirror on the wall, who is the fairest in all this land?" The nlirror answers:
"Lady queen, you are the fairest here; but litt.le Snow-white is a thousand
titnes fairer than you."
2 Godwin's L'ives of tlw Nem'o1nancers, 1834, p. 376.
312 Magical .Elc1nents in the Squ,irre's Tale.

of it, and because it has been the C01111110n practiee of conjurors to


ans\ver the inquiries of persons by representations sho,vn to thenl in
a glass. Dr. Merick Casaubon quotes a passage to this purpose fronl
Inanllscript of Roger Bacon, inscribed De Dict£s et Facti::;
et Daelnonunz: 'The daenl0ns s0111etillles appear
to tholn really, sonletimes ilnag1narily, in basins and polished things,
and sho\v thenl vvhatever they Boys looking upon these
surfaces sce by inluginatiou things that have been stolen, to \vhat
places they have been carried, ,vhat persons took tJtenl a\vay, and
the like. In the of J oachiul Canlerarius to PlutarcllJ De
Oraculis ,ve are told that a gentlelllan of Nurenlberg had a crystal
,vhich had this singular virtue, viz., if anyone desired to know any-
thing past or future, let a young Inan, castus, or who was not yet of
age, look into it; he ,vould first see a man so-and-so apparelled, antI
afterwards ,vhat he desired. \Ve Ineet with a si111ilar story in
IIey lin's Flist. of Re!, Pt. Ill. The Earl of Hertford, brothel' to
Queen Jane, having £o1'1nerly been ell1ployed in France, acquainted
hinlself ,vith a learned 111an , ,vho ,vas supposed to have great skill in
magic. To this person, by revvards and importunities, he applied for
inforlllation concerning his affairs at hOlne, and his inlpertinent
curiosity was so satisfied that by the help of S0111e Inagical per-
spective he beheld a gentlen1an in a 1110re fanliliar posture \vith his
,vife than ,vas consistent ,vith the honour of either party. To this
diabolical illusion he is said to have given so llluch credit that he not
only estranged hiulself from her society on his return, but furnished
a second ,vife ,vith an excellent reason for the disinherision of his
fornler children." 1

1 Down to quite recent tin1es, alnong the superstitious customs in Scotland


on the eve of All-hallows day, or Hallowe'en, as we learn from Burns' fine
description of that festival, was that of young girls eating an apple before a
looking-glass, "with the view of discovering the inquirer's future husband,
who it was believed would be seen peeping over her shoulder." In the Orkney
Islands, on the same occasion, it was customary, and still is, perhaps, in rural
districts,' for girls to have their fortunes revealed hyoId women, called
spaewives, whose lllagic mirror consisted in the white of an egg dropped into
a glass full of water, and the curious forms which it assumed were interpreted
by the" wise woman" to indicate a fine house, a handsome young man, and
so forth. There are still, perchance, old Scotch wives who pretend to "spae"
from exalnination of tea-leaves at the bottonl of a cup.
ilIagic .JfiTT'01"S and Il1t.ages. 31:3

A very C0l1n110n nl0de of atteulpting to cause the death of any


objectionable person through ,vitchcraft ,vas to l11ake a ,vaxen or clay
image of the destined victiln, and fix pins into it, or place it before a
large fire, when it was supposed the vietinl represented by the effigy
,vould either V;Taste gradually a,vay, or die in great tonnent. The
first chapter of the old English version of the Gesta Rornanol'uln-
re-edited froill the Harl. 1\18. 7333, Brit. l\1:us., by 8. J. Herrtage,
for the Early English Text Society-tells ho\v a plot of this kind
,vas frustrated by nleans of a 111agic luirror :
In the elnpire of there lived a knight ,vho "hadde wedded
a young danlsell to ,vif. And withinne few yerys this \V0111an lovid
by \yey of syulle an othir knight, vnder hire husbond, and that so
11loch that she ordeyned for her husbondc to be ded." It so lJap-
pened that he set out on a pilgrinlage beyond sea, and in saying
fare\vell to his wife he cautioned her to be of good behaviour during
his absence. But this false ,vonlan having deterlnined to cause her
husband's death took counsel for that eud ,vith a magician, who
made a clay image of the knight and fastened it on the wall. The
salne day the knight was walking in the streets of ROlne when he .
11let a clerk, \vho seemed to look at hhn \vith peculiar interest, and
on his asking the clerk ,vhy he did so, he ans\vered: "I see that
thou shalt die this very day, unless sOlllething may be contrived to
prevent it," and then tells the knight that his wife is a strull1pet, and
had enlployed a magician to kill hilll by his unholy arts. The knight
repliea that he was well a\vare that his ,vife ,vas false to the nuptial
couch, but he had never suspected she ,vas so wickeJ as to plot his
death; but if the clerk could save hinl, he should be ,veIl re\varded.
The clerk tells hinl ho\v the 11lagician had made a clay inlage of hilll,
and \vould presently shoot an arro,v at it, and if he struck the image
the knight's heart ,vould burst instantly. But the clerk would save
his life. lIe causes the knight to take off his clothes and go into a
bath \vhich he prepared for him, and this is how the tale goes on :
" And whan he ,vas in the bath the clerk took a lllyraur in his
hand· and seide: 'No\ve thou shalt see in this ll1yrour all that I
spak of to thee.' And then scille he: 'Ye[a], sothly, I see all opynly
in Inyne hons, that thou spakist of to Inc. And no\v the Inyster
314 .2lfagical Elernents the Sqfllirre's l'ale.

luau l takith his bo\ve, and ,voll schete att the ynlage.'
Thenne seilla
the clerk: 'Sir, as thou lovist thy lif, what tyme that he dra\vith
his bo\ve, bo\ve thyne hed vnder the watir. For if thou do not,
certenly thy ynluge shall be snlytene and thou both.' And when
the l{night sa\ve hiIn begynne forto dra\ve his bowe, he dyd as the
clerke conseiled hinl. And thenne seide the clerke: 'What seist
thon no\v , 'Jforsoth,' quoth he, 'no\v hath he schete an aro\ve at
the y111age, and for that he failith of his strook he l1lakith moch
soro,ve.' Thonne seide the clerke, 'Ye[a], that [is] goode tydyng
for thee. For if he had sn1yten the yl1lage, thou sholdist have i-be
dodo But loke no\v on the nlyrour, and tell nle \vhat thon seist.'
, N O\V he takith an other arowe and \voU schete agein.' 'Do, thenne,'
q uoth the clerke, 'as thou dyd afore, or ellis thou shalt be ded.'
And therfore the knight pntte all his hede vnder the \vatir. Ancl
\vhenne he had so y-done, he raisid it vp agen, and seyde to the
clerke: 'He nlakith soro\ve now nlore than ony nlan \voU trowe; for
he sroot not the ymage. And he cryed to Illy ,vif, seiying that "If
I fayle the third tyme I anl but ded my selfe, and thyne husband
shall lyve." And my ,vif lllakith therfor moch lanlentacion.' , Loke
agen,' seide the clerke, 'and tell 111e \vhat he cloth.' 'Forsothe,'
seide he, 'he hath bend his bo\ve and goith ny to the ynlage for to
shete, and therfor I drede no\v gretly.' 'Do, therfore,' seide the
cleTke, ' do as I bade doo afore, and dred the[e] nothyng.' So the
knyght, \vhenne he sa\ve the scheter dra\ve his bO'we, he s\vapte his
hed vndir the \vatir as he c1yd afore. And thenne he toke it vp agen
and lokid at the n1yrour, and he lough with a gret myrth. 'I sey,'
quod the clel'ke, ',vhi Iaughist thou soo l' 'For the archer ,voId
have y-schot at the yn1age, and he hath y-schotte hinl selie in the
lungen, and lyith elecl. And my ,vif ulakith sorowe \vith oute eude,
and ,yoU hyde his body by hire beddys syde.' , Ye[a], sir,' quod the
clerke, 'no\v thou baste thi lif savid, do yeld to Ule my nlede and
go; far\vell.' Thenne the knyght gaf hinl n1ede as he woll askeD
And the knyght went honl, and fond the body undir the bedde of
his wif, and he gcde to the l\feyre of the towne and told hiul hO'we
his \vif had don in his absence. Thenne when the Meyre and the
1 The mystery man ::=.: the lllagician.
Magic .J.l1ir'J"o'J"s and I1nages.
statys sa,ve this doyng they Inaue the ,vif to be slayne, and hire
herte to be departid yn to thre pal'teis, in tokne and emsampill of
veniaunce. And the good 11lan toke an othir ,vif, and faire endid
his li££e." 1

A reverend English author of the 17th century relates that a


friend named Hill happened to be in con1pany,vith a nlan called
COlnpton, of SOlnersetshire, ,vho practised physic and pretended to
strange nlatters. This Compton "talked of n1any high things, and,
having drawn my friend into another roon1, apart fronl the rest of
the cOlnpany, said he ,vould make him sensible that he could do
sOlnething more than ordinary; and asked hiln 'vhon1 he desired to
see. lVIr. Hill had no great confidence in his talk, but yet, being
earnestly pressed to nan1e SOlne one, he said he desired to see no 011e
so 111uch as his ,vife, who ,vas then n1al1Y miles distant fro1n theu1 at
her house. Upon this COll1pton took up a looking-glass that ,vas in
the 1'00111, and setting it do,vn again, bade n1Y friend look into it,
which he did, and then, as he nl0st solen1nly and seriously professeth,
he sa,v the exact in1age of his ,vife, in that habit v;hich she then
wore, and working at her needle, in such a part of the 1'00111, there
also represented, in 'vhich and about ,vhich time she really ,vas, as
he found upon inquiry on his return hon1e. The gentlenlan hiln-
self," adds our reverend author, "averred this to Dle; and he is a
sober, intelligent, and credible person. COll1pton hau no knowledge
of him before, and was an utter stranger to the person of his ,vife."2

1 Akin to the notion of injuring or killing a person by shooting at his effigy


is the world-wide superstition, which was held by no less a nlan than Pytha-
goras, that by running' a nail or a knife into a man's footprints you injure the
feet that made t.hem. " Thus in Mecldenburg it is thought that if you thrw::.t
a nail into a nlan's footprints the man will go laule. The Australian blacks
hold exactly the sanle view. . .. Among the .Karens of BurIna evil.disposed
persons 'keep poisoned fangs in their possession for the purpose of killing
people. These they thrust into the footnlal'ks of the person they wish to kill,
who soon finds himself with a sore foot, and marks on it as if bitten by a dog.
The sore becomes rapidly WOl'se and worse till death ensues.'" See an excellent
paper on "Some Popular Superstitions of the Ancients," by 1\1:1'. J. G. Frazer,
in June, 1880, pp. 157-159.
Saddncisln1ui 0/', a Full and Plain Evidence concerning
lVdcltes and Appa1l/itions. By Joseph Glanvil, Chaplain in ordinary to Killg
Charles 11. Fourth edition, 1726. P. 281.
316 Magical Elernents in the Tale.
Sir WaIter Scott's tale entitled" l\ly Aunt l\fargaret's J\tIirror"-
\vhich first appeared in The Kee.psake for 1828, and ,vas afterwards
included in his Chronicles of the Canongate--is curiously misnamed,
since the "aunt" is nlerely the relater of the story, and the magic
mirror ,vas one of the "properties" of an Italian adventurer who
practised for a tilue on the credulity of the good folk of Edinburgh,
about the beginning of the 18th century. This fel1o\v called hinl-
self Doctor Baptista Damiotti, and pretended to hail from Padua,
and soon after his arrival in the Scottish capital it becanle rUll10urcd
that" for a certain gratification, 'vhieh of course was not an incon-
siderable one, he could tell the fate of the absent, and even sho,v his
visitors the personal fornls of their absent friends and the action in
,vhich they ,vere engaged at the nl0tnent." An10ngst those ,vho
visited this most cunning neCrOlTI.ancer ,vas the sadly-neglected
,vife of Sir Philip :Forester, ,yha ,vas then ,vith Marlborough's
army on the continent. Lady Forester prevailed upon her strong-
ntinded sister Lady Bothwell to accompany her on a visit to Doctor
Baptista, to see "vhether he could furnish by means of his ll1ysterions
art tidings of her husbande They ,vent disguised as WOlnen of the
humbler class, but the adept was not thus to be deceived. " vVe are
poor people," Lady Bothwell began; "only IHy sister's distress has,
brought us to consult your ,vorship ,vhether-" He smiled and inter-
rupted her: "I anI aware, nludaln, of your sister's distress and its
cause; I am also a,vare that I aln honoured ,vith a visit froll1 tw'O
ladies of the highest consideration - Lady Both"vell and Lady
:Forester," and so on. After sonle farther conversation the nlan of
,vonders retires. J\tlean,vhile the Ininds of his fair visitors are pre-
pared for the scene about to be presented by "a strain of Inusic so
singularly s\veet and solen1n, that, while it seell1ed calculated to dis-
pel any feeling ullconnected ,vith its harnlony, increased at the saU1e
tinle the s01elnn excitation which the preceding intervie,v was cal-
culated to produce." Presently a door opens· at the upper end of the
apartnlent, and Danliotti is discovered decked out in a peculiar
costU111C, with his face preternaturally pale, and he motions thelli to
ad. vance. They no\v enter a large 1'00111 hung ,vith black, as jf for
a funeral} at the upper end of which ,vas a kind of altar, "covered
111agic and I1nages. 317
,vith the sanle lugubrious colour, on which lay divers objects rCSell1-
bling the usual iOlplenlents of sorcery." Behind the altar was a
large lllirror, to ,vhich the adept pointed, at the saIlle tilne leading
thenl to\vards it. (He had previously ,yarned thenl that the "sight"
he ,vas about to sho,v thenl could last only seven lllinntes, and" should
they interrupt the vision by speaking a single ,vord, not only ,vould
the chaem be broken, but sorne danger Inight result to the spectators.")
As they gazed on the they beheld objects as it ,vere ,vithin it,
"at first in a disorderly, indistinct, and miscellaneous manner, like
forll1 arranging itself out of chaos; at length in distinct shape and
syolluetry." They saw in the mirror the interior of a Protestant
church, ,vith the clergyrnan and his clerk, apparently about to per-
form some church service. it bridal party are no,v seen to enter,
followed by a large concourse of persons of both sexes, gaily dressed.
"The bride, ,vhose features they could distinctly see, ,vas not nlore than
sixteen years old, and extrenlely beautiful. The bridegroom, for some
seconds, nloved rather with his shoulder to,vards them, and his face
averted; but his elegance of fornl and step struck the sisters at once
with the sanIe inlpression. As he turned his face suddenly it ,vas
frightfully realized, and they saw in the gay bridegroolll before them
Sir Philip Forester. His wife uttered an inlperfect eXChtlllation, at
tho sound of which the ,vhole scene stirred and seemed to separate."
Lady Forester, however, contrived to stifle her voice, and after a
minute's fluctuation the scene resumed its furlner appearance. " The
representation of Sir Philip Forester, 1l0'V distinctly visible in form
and feature, ,vas seen to lead on to\varcls the clergynlan that beautiful
girl, ,vho advanced at once ,vith a diffidence and ,vith a species of
affectionate pride. In the meantime, just as the clergynlan had
arranged the bridal company before him, and seenled about to
comnlence the service, another group of persons, of ,vhonl t,vo or
three were officers, entered the church. They moved at first forward,
as though they canle to witness the bridal cerelnouy; but suddenly
one of the officers, ,vhose back ,vas turned towards the spectators,
detached himself fronl his cOlnpanjons, and rushed hastily to,vards
the marriage party, ·,vhen the ,vhole of theul turned to,varcls hinl, as
if attracted by son1e exclamation ,vhich had accolllpanied the advance.
:318 Ala gical Elernents in the Sq1,ti re's Tale.
t

Suddenly the intruder dre\v his s\vord; the bridegroom unsheathed


his o\vn and made to\vards him. Swords were also dra\vn by other
individuals, both of the marriage party and of those ,vho had last
entered. They fell into a sort of confusion, the clergynlan and SOIne
elderly and grave 'persons labouring apparently to keep the peace,
while the hotter spirits on both sides brandished their weapons.
But no\v the period of the brief space during \vhich the soothsayer,
as he pretended, was permitted to exhibit his art was arrived. The
forlns again nlixed together, and dissolved gradually frolll observa-
tion; the vaults and COlU111nS of the church rolled asunder and
disappeared; and the front of the mirror reflected nothing save the
blazing torches and the melancholy apparatus placed on the altar
beforp, i.t."
Such was the" vision" presented to the ladies, and it may be
well supposed that Lady Forester was in a "sad taking" in conse-
quence thereof-what WOlllan would not be greatly perturbed both
in body and mind at beholding, even "in a glass darkly," the
marriage of her husband with a pretty girl of sixteen? It turned
out that :Forester was actually about to be Inarried to the beautiful
daughter of a wealthy burgomaster in Rotterdaln, when his brother-
in-law, Captain Falconer, who chanced to be then in that city 011
nlilitary business, being invited by a Dutch friend to acconlpany
him to church to see a countryman of his o\vn nlarried, and, going
accordingly, was just in time to prevent the crime. He after\vards
fought with Forester, and was killed. Only all this happened a
little tinle before it was exhibited in Doctor Damiotti's nlagic Inirror.

That consummate charlatan, Joseph Balsanlo-who assumed the


title and name of Count Cagliostro, and for several years during the
latter part of the last century successfully posed before the " crowned
heads" and the aristocracy of Europe as past master of the Rosi.-
crucian mysteries, and ended his ill-spent life in a dungeon-an1ong
'his cunning tricks, caused people, says the Abbe Firard, to see in
mirrors, glass bottles, and decanters moving spectres of n1e11 and
women long since. Cleopatra-in short, whoever
,nlight be requested. "A diabolical perforlllance!" exclainls the
Magic Mi?1 r01"s and Ilnages.
I
319
pious father, "kll0'Vll in every age of the Church, and testified
against by those whonl no ll1an can call unenlightened-by Ter-
tullian, St. Justin) Lactantius, St. Cyril of Jerusalem, and others."
This most shameless of all charlatans, ancient or modern-this
,J oseph Balsamo-is the hero of one of the Ehler DUllIas' popular
rOllIunces, in which he figures ,vith a dignity \vhich he luight ,veIl be
supposed to have safely aSSllllled in those days when scepticisn1 and
superstition went tQgether among the higher classes of the Parisians.
DUlllaS gives the following account of Balsan1o's exhibiting to Marie
Antoinette her terrible fate in a decanter of water-a feat which he
is credibly said to have done, by son1e species of trickery:
"He seized the carafe on the golden saucer, it in a dark
hollo\v \vhere son1e rocks fornled a sort of grotto; then he took the
hand of the archduchess and drew her under the vault. 'Are you
ready l' he asked the princess, who ,vas alarn1ed by his rapid move-
111ellts. 'Yes.' 'On your knees, I-on your knees I-and pray
God to spare you this dreadful end of all your greatness, which you
are now to witness!' She obeyed mechanically and fell on both
knees. He pointed with a wand to the glass globe, in the centre of
,rhich must have appeared son1e dal'k and terrible fornl, for the
dauphiness, in tryin"g t.o rise, trembled and sank upon the ground
,,'ith a shriek of horror-she had fainted. The baron hastened to
her assistance, and in a few n1inutes she can1e to herself. She put
hel' hand to her forehead, as if to recall her thoughts, then suddenly
exclaimed, 'The carafe I-the carafe!' The baron presented it to
her. The ,vater was perfectly li111pid-not a stain nlingled ,vith it.
Balsan10 was gone."l

There is a curious letter in Sir Ry. Ellis' collection, from the


Abbot of Abingdon to Cromwell, secretary of state in the time of
Henry VIII., in which he reports having taken into custody a priest
,vho had been travelling about the country as a nlagician: "Right
honourable and nlY very singular good J.\Iaster, in, Iny 11100ste hlunhle
,vyse I comende n1e unto you. It shall please your Mastcrship to
be advertised that my Officers have taken here a Preyste, a 8uspecte
1 Dumas' Me'moi,rs 01 a ch. xv.
LANE. y
:320 j}Iagical Ele1nents in the Sq1tirre"s Tale.

person, and ,vith hYUl cOl'teyn bokes of conjuracions, in the whiche


ys conteyned Juany conclusions of that ,vorke; as fynding out
tresure hidde, consecrating of ringes with stones in then1, and
consecrating of et chl'istal stone, 1-vherein a chylde shalllokke, and se
1nany thynys." 1
The elnploy111ent of a child, or a young lad, as a 111ediu111 in
perforluances a nlagic luirror See111S to have been forlner]y
ahnost as con1111011 in Europe as it has been til11e, out of l11ind, and is
ut the present day, throughout the East generally-see also, ante,
page 312, ',vhere a young luan, caslus, or a youth not yet con1e to
11lature years, is said to be necessary for that purpose. The celebrated
Arabist, E. W. Lane, in chapter xii. of his ]vfodern Egyptians,
fnrnishes a detaileJ account of an experinlent ,yith a Inagic luirror
of ink, which he witnessed at Cairo, in his o,vn lodging:
"In preparing for the experiInent of the inagic 111irror of ink,
'vhich, like 80111e other perforlnances of a shnilar nature, is ter11led
darb el-1JlCndel, the Inagician first asked In8 for a reed-pen, ink, a
piece of paper, and a pair of scissors; and having cut off a narro\v
strip of paper, he \vrote upon it certain for1118 of invocation, together
,vith a charn1, by \vhich 11e professes to acco11lplish the object of the
experin1ent. He did not attelnpt to conceal these; anu on my ask-
ing hin1 to give nle copies of then1 he readily consented, and iUl1lle-
diately \vrotc then1 fur 1118, explaining at the sanle tilne that the
object he had ill vie\v ,vas acco111plished through the influence of the
two first ,vords, Tarshun anrt 1Taryooshun, which he said ,vere the
narnes of t,vo of his' fan1iliar spil·its.' I conlpared the copies with
the originals, and found that they exactly agreed. The following is
a translation of the invocation and charnl :
'Tarshun! I Come down!
CODle down! Be present! 'Vhither are gone
the prince and his troops? where are' EI-Ahmar
the prince and his troops? Be present,
ye servants of these nanles ! '
'And this is the removal. "And we have remo,'ed fron1 thee
thy veil; and thy sight to-day
is piercing." Correct: correct.' 2

1 Ellis' Ol'iginal Ll3tters, 3rd Series, vol. Hi. p. 41, Letter 2GB.
2 Facsimile of the Arabic originals facing this page.
Afqpc//wOCctlUJ7t Otrum;
JeePwe3ZtJ.
.JJJ1.: r .., ;
..
' lJjt-f>'f.'l f
11/
1,.1:-':' 6) "',YI
. Il,p VI 1S}ob I' J.,a)a._t
.. . -

. <:; - ••
U/dJl!i7rur or

'l,
Jee.PtWe3ZL

'J
, r-

,,,

lANE
l 1\ I '1
lJ[agic llfi'r?'ors and 321
IIaving ,vritten these, the magician cut off the paper containing the
fo1'1118 of invocation fronl that upon \vhich the charm ,vas ,vritten,
and cut the Jormer into six strips. He then explained to 111e that
the object of the charm (,vhich contains part of the 21st verse of the
soorct 'l{af,' or 50th chapter, of the I{uran) ,vas to open .the boy's
eyes in a supernatural manner-to Inake his sight pierce into ,vhat is
to us the invisible ,vorld.
had prepared, by the 11lagician's direction, S0111e frankincense
and coriander seed-he generally requires sonle benzoin to be added
to these-and a chafing-dish ,vith SOlne live charcoal in it. These \ve:,c
no\v brought into the 1'00111, together ,vith the boy \vho ,vas to be,
enlployed: he had been called in, hy 111Y desire, froIn ulnong son1e
boys in the street, returning from a factory, and "ras about eight or
nine years of age. In reply to 111Y inquiry respecting the description
of pel'sons ,vho could see in the l11agic 111irror of i11k, the D1agician
said that they ,vere, a boy not arrived at a virgin, a black
fenlale slave, and a pregnant ,voman. The chafing-dish ,vas placed
before hinl and the boy, and the latter ,vas placed on a seat. The
ll1agician no\v desired l11Y servant to put 80111e frankincense and
coriander-seed into the ,chafing-dish; then taking hold of the boy's
right hand he dre,v in the pahn of it a nlngic square.! In the centre
he poured a little ink, and desired the boy to look into it, and to tell
hiln if he could see his face reflected in it. The boy replied that he
saw his face clearly. l'he magician, holding the boy's hand all the
"\vhile,2 told him to continue looking intently into the ink and not to
raise his head.
" He then took one of the little strips of. paper inscribed with the
form of invocation and dropped it into the chafing-dish upon the
1 Facsiuli1e of t,he nlagic square and mit·l'o\, of iuk is given along with that
of the incantation and charm, facing p. 320. The figures which it contains are
Arabic nunlerals; in our ordinary characters they are as follows:
r41912l
r---j--j--4
1315' 7I
;---1--;--4
I 8 ill 6 I
L-_-J_ _

It will be that the horizontal, vertical, and diagonal rows give each the
saUle sum. VIZ. 15.
2 ThiS·, says Lane, reminds us of aninlal rnagnetisln.

y 2
322 Mau'£cal Elelltents in the Squi1"e's Tale.
burning coals and perfulnes, ,vhich had already filled the 1'00111 ,vith
their sllloke; and as he did this he cOlnulenced an indistinct l11utter-
iug of words, ,vhich he continued during the ,vhole process, except-
i1lg when he had to ask the boy a question, or to tell hinl ,vhat he
,vas to say. The piece of paper containing the words fro 111 the
Kuran he placed inside the fore-part of the boy's tdkeeyeh, or skull-
cap. He then asked him if he sa,,, anything in the ink, and 'was
ans,vered 'No'; but about a' Ininute after, the boy, treulbling and
seenling nluch frightened, said: 'I see a ll1an sweeping· the ground.'
'vVhen he has done s,veeping,' said the magician, 'tell me.' Pre-
sently the boy said: 'He has done.' The nlagician again inter-
rupted his lllutte:dng to ask the boy if he kne,v what a beyra7c (or
flag) ,vas; and being answered' Yes,' desired hiln to say: 'Bring a
flag.' The boy did so, and soon said: 'He has· brought a flag.'
, What colour is it l' asked the magician. The boy replied:
lIe ,vas told to call for another flag, which he did, and soon after he
said he SU\V another brought, and it was black. In like manner he
,vas told to call for a third, four'th, fifth, sixth, and seventh, which
he described as being successively brought before hiln, specifying
their colours as white, green, black, red, and blue. The nutgician
then asked hinl (as he did also each tiule a ne,v flag ,:vas described as
being bronght): 'Ho'v 111any flags have you no\v before you The
boy answered: 'Seven.' )Vhile this was going on the ll1agician put
the second and 'third of the s111a11 strips of paper upon which the fornlS
of invocation and charm were ,vritten into the chafing-dish, and fresh
frankincense and coriander-seed having been repeatedly added the
fUInes became painful to the eyes. 'Vhen the boy had described' the
seven flags as appearing to him, he ,vas desired to say: 'Bring the
sultan's tent and pitch it.' This he did, and in about a lllinute after
he said: 'Some DleD have brought the tent-a large green tent ; -
they are pitching it;' and presently he adJed: 'They have set it
up.' , Now,' said the 11lagician, 'order the Boldiers to COllle, and. to
1 itch their calnp around the tent of the sultan.' 'fhe boy did as 110
was desired, and inllllediately said: 'I see a great nlany soldiers \\'ith
their tents ;-they have pitched their tents.' Ile ,vas then tolll to
order that the soldiers should be dra'vu up in ranks; and having
323
done so he said he saw thenl thus arranged. The
'lnagician had put the fourth of the little strips of paper into the
chafing-dish, and soon after he did the sanle ,vith the fifth. He now
said: 'Tell son1e of the people to bring a bull.' The boy gave the
order required, and said: 'I see a bull; it is red. Four men are
dragging it along, and three are beating it.' He ,vas told to desire
thenI to kill it, cut it up, put the nleat in saucepans, and cook it.
lIe did as he was directed, and described these operations as ap-
parently performed before his eyes. 'Tell the soldiers,' said the
magician, 'to eat it.' The boy did so, and said: 'They are eating
it ;-they have done, and are ,Yashing their hands.' The magician
then told him to call for the sultan, and the boy, having ,done this,
said: 'I see the sultan riding to his tent on a bay horse, and he has
on his head a high red cap. He has alighted at his tent and sat
'down ,vithin it.' thenl to bring coffee to the sultan,' said
the magician,.' and to fornl the court.' TheRe orders ,vere given by
the boy, and he said he sa\v thenl perfornled. The n1agician had put
the last of the six little strips, of paper into the chafing-dish. In his
111utterings I distinguished not.hing but the ,vords of the written
invocation frequently repeated, excepting on t\VO or three occasions,
,vhen I heard hh11 say, 'If they denland information, inform them,
and be ye veracious.' Bnt much that he repeated was inaudible, and,
as I did not ask hil11 to teach 111e his art, I do not pretend' to assert
that I anl fully acquainted ,vith his invocations.
"He now addressed hhnself to nle, and asked me if I ,vished the
,boy to see any person who ,vas absent or dead. I nalned Lord
Nelson, of whOlU the boy had evidently never heard, for. it was with
nluch difficulty that he pronounced the name after several trials.
The desired the boy to say to the sultan: 'My Inaster
salutes thee, and desires thee to bring Lord Nelson-bring hinl be-
fore nlY eyes that I may see hinl speedily.' The boy then said so,
and aln10st in1l1lediately added: (A messenger is gone, and has
returned and brought a man dressed in a black 1 suit of European
clothes: the man has lost his left arnl.' He then paused for a
1 "Dark blue is called by the modern Egyptians esrved, which properly
signifies blaclt, and is therefore so translated here."
324 jJ£agical Elc1nents in the Sqrnire's Tale.

nl0111ent or t,vo, and, looking 11101'e inteutly and nlore closely into
the ink, said: ' No, he has not lost his left arIll, but it is placed to
his breast.' This correction made his description nlOl'e striking than
-it had been ,vithout it, since Lord Nelson generally had his enlpty
sleeve attached to the breast of his coat, it ,vas the right ann
that he had lost. 'Vithout saying that I suspected the boy had
Illade a nlistake, I asked the Illagician 'vhether the objects appeared
in the ink as if actually before the eyes, or as if in a glass, 'vhich
Inakes the right appear left. He aIls,vered that they appeared as in
a l11irror. This rendered the descriptiun faultless. 1
"The next person I for ,vas a native of "Egypt ,vho had
been for nlany years resident in England, ,vhere he has adopted our
dress, and 'vho had been long confined to his Led by illness before
I elnbarked for this country. I thought that his nanle, one not very
unconlnlon in Egypt, nlight Inake the boy describe hinl incorrectly;
though another boy all a former visit of the ll1agician had described
this sanle person as ,vearing a European dress like that in which I last
sa\v hiln. In the present case the boy 'Here is a ll1an brought
on a kind of bier and wrapped up in a sheet.' 'This description
,vould suit, supposing the person in question to be still confined to
his bed, or if he be dead. 2 The boy described his face as covered,
and ,vas told to oruel' that it should be uncovered. This he diu and
then said: 'His face is pale, and he has moustaches, but no beard,'
,vhich is correct.
" Several other persons ,vere successively called for, hut the boy's
descriptions of thenl ,vere iIllperfect, though not altogether incorrect.
1 "vVhenever I desired the boy to call for any person to appear I paid
particular attention to the 111agician and to 'Oslllan [a friend]. The latter
gave no direction either by word or sign, and indeed he was generally unac-
quainted with the personal appearance of the person called for. I took care
that he had no previous comrnunication with the boy, and have seen the
experilnent fail when he could have given directions to thern or to the 11lagi-
cian. In short, it would Le difficult to conceive any precaution which I did
lIot take. It is important to add that the dialect of the nlagician was n10re
intelligible to 111e than to the boy. 'Vhen I understood hinl perfectly at once,
he was sOluetiules obliged to vary his words to 111ake the boy con1pl'ehend what
he said."
2 "A few lllonths after this I had the pleasure of hearing that the person
alluded to was in ootter health. 'Vhether he was confined to bed at the
tinlc when this experiment was perfornled I have not been aule to ascertain."
jJfagic J.lfi1"ro rs and Irnages..
f
325
He represented each object as appearing less distinct than the pre-
ceding one, as if IllS sight ,vere gradually beconling dim: he ,vas
a l1linute or 11101'e before he could give any account of the persons
he professed to see to,vards the close of the perfornlunce, and the
111agician said it ,vas useless to proceed ,vith hinl. Another boy ,vas
then brought in, and the nlagic square, etc. made in his hand, but
he could see nothing. The l11agician said he ,vas too old.
"Though cOlnpletely puzzled, I ,vas sOlne,vhat disappointed ,vith
llis perfornlances, for they fell short of ,vhat he had accolnplished in
lllany instances in presence of certain of nlY friends and country-
men. On one of these occasions, an Englishnlan present ridiculed
the perfornlance, and said that nothing ,vould satisfy hil11 but a cor-
rect description of the appearance of his O'Vll father, of 'Vh0111, he
,vas sure, no one of the cOlnpany had any kno,vledge. 'fhe boy, ac-
corJingly having called by llallle for the person alluded to, described
a nlan in a Frank dress, ,vith his hand placed to his head, "reariug
spectacles, and ,,,ith one foot on the ground, and the other raised
behind hinl, as if he ,vere stepping do\vn fronl a seat. The descrip-
tion w'as exactly true in evel'Y respect: the peculiar position of the
hand ,vas occasioned by an ahnost constant headache; and tllat of
the foot or leg by a stiff knee, caused by a fall frolH a horse in hunt-
ing. I am assured that, on this occasion, the boy accurately described
each person and thing that ,vas called for. On another occasion,
Shakspeare ,vas described ,vith the 1110st Ininute correctness, both as
to person and dress; and I might add several other cases in ,vhich
the sanle n1agiciall has excited astonishu1ent in the sober Ininds of
Englislnnen of lily acquaintance. A short tinle since, after perfornl-
iug in the usual l11anner by nleans of a boy, he prepared a magic
l11il'ror in the hand of a young English lady, ,vho on looking into it
for a little ,vhile said she sa,v a br00111 s,veeping the ground ,vithout
any body holding it, and ,vas so 111uch frightened that she ,vould look
no longer.!
1 Lane has relnarked that the 111agician's holding the boy's hand reminds
one of aninlal nlagnetisnl; and indeed in all cases ,vhere downright
is not practised, s0111etlting of this kind-hypnotislu, we call it nowadays--
shon1(} account for 1110st of such" manifestations," and this seems confirmed
by the fact that all boys or youths do not answer the purpose of the illagicians.
326 Magical Ele1nents in the Tale.

"I have stated these facts," adds Lane, " partly from my O\V11
experience and partly as they Callle to nlY knowledge on the authority
of respectable persons. The reader 111ay be teulpted to think that in
each instance the boy sa\v the inlages by some reflection in the ink,
but this was evidently not the case; or that he ,vas a 'confederate, or
guided by leadillg questions. l'hat there ,vas no collusion I satis-
factorily ascertained, by selecting the boy who perfornled the part
above described in IllY presence from a nUllbel' of others passing by
in the street, and by his rejecting a present which I afterwards
offered hinl with the vie,v of. inducing hilll to confess that he did not
really see \vhat he professed to have seen. I tried the veracity of
another boy on a subsequent occasion in the same lllanner, and the
result was the sanle. l'he experinlent often entirely fails, but ,vhen
the boy en1played is right in one case he generally is so in all: when
he gives at first an account altogether wrong the Inagician usually
disnlissps hinl at once, S'aying that he is too old. The perfunles, or
excited inlagination, 01" fear, may be supposed to affect the vision of
the boy "rho describes objects as appearing to him in the ink; but,
if so, why does he see exactly \vhat is required, and of \vhich
he can have had no previouS' particular notion Neit.her I nor
others have been able to discover any clue by ,vhich to penetrate
the mystery." 1
It is significant that in all experiments with the ink-lnirror the bo)' sees men!
or nlonkeys son1etimes, "sweeping the ground"; and whatever may be thought
of'the subsequent feats of the boy in the case related by Lane, it seems evident
that the rnagician's telling the boy what he is to order-such as "bring the
sultan's tent," "order the soldiers to come," "tell thenl to bring a bull," and
so on-would be sufficient to induce the boy, when his will was ullder the
n1agician's control, to hel ieve that he saw these orders executed; and I wU!Hll'l'
that Lane did not obgerve this circumstance. [Since the foregoing wag in
type, I have discovered, fron1 the appendix to later editions of 1Jfodel''/i
}lgypf'ians, that Lane was soon afterwards convinced that the whole exhibition
w"as a piece of trickel-y, in which his Anglo-Turkish neighbour 'Osman was
an accomplice of the magician, and he was well qualified to furnish the boy
with descriptions of Nelson, 8hakspeare, and the others. It would alnlost
seem that Lane was also deceived by the wretched nlummery of the '4 invoca-
tion and charm," cut into strips and burnt in a brazier, and the constant
nluUerings of the pre-tended sorcerer.]
1 A writer in Ta'i.t's 1JIagaz'ine for 1832, who professes to have
been present, gives an amusing account of a Inagician's attempt to exhibit his
art in Cairo. 1'he boy selected was a Christian, and apparently a 111 em her of
,the fanlily. The' incense, as usual, was thrown on the fire, while illcanfations
Magic Mirrrro'J"s and 327

Mr. Lane, being a bachelor, had no ,vife regarJing \Vh0111 he


ll1ight have been curious to kno,v sonle,vhat by mpans of the Inirlor
of ink-like the" sober, intelligent, and credible" friend of the I{ev.
IVIr. Glanvil (ante, p. 315), and the unfortunate nlerchant in our
next story:
An honest Neapolitan trader, who happened to be for some
1110nths on the coast of Africa, about Tunis and in Egypt, beCa111e all
at once anxious to kno,v some\vhat of the proceedings of a buxonl
,vife he had left behind him at the to'Vll of Torre del Greco, not far
fronl the city of K aples, and was persuaded one night to consult the
ll1aglclans. .A.n innocent boy ,vas procured, as usual,' 'vho, ,vhen the
charrn began to \vork, said he sa\v a \VOIUan in a blue jacket that had
a great deal of gold lace upon it, in a hright yellO"\v robe of ample
dilnensiolls, ,vith a necklace of coral round her neck, ilUlnense rings
in her ears, and a long silver thing, shaped like an thrust
through her hair, "'hich ,vas 111uch bundled on the top of her head.
In short, he 1110st accurately the gala dress of the N ea-
politall's caret 81JOS(l, and after,vards her features to the very turn of
her nose. She ,,,as then kneeling by the side of a box, in which was
seated a 111fUl in black, fast asleep. The Neapolitan knew this must
be the confessional.
\Vl1en told to look. again, the scene ,vas changed to a very large
and curious house, as he had novel' seen before, all cro,vded
,vith people, and dazzling to the eye froll1 the gilding and the
nunlber of ,vax-lights. This the Neapolitan kne\v ll1ust nlean the
theatre of San Carlo, the paradise of his countrynlen, but he never
coulJ inlagine that his ,vife should be there in his absence. S11e
'''as, though, for presently the boy said, " And there I see the 'V0111an
in the blue jacket ,vith a 11lan in a red coat, ,vhispering'into her ear."
" l'he devil!" nluttered the Neapolitan to hinlself.
"Look again," said the nlagician, "and tell me ,vlwt you see
no,v." "I can hardly see at all," replied the boy, looking into the
were pronounced. "Do you see a little 11lan ?" asked the magician. The
Loy responded that he saw nothing. Again asked the same question, "Yes,"
said he, "I see sOlllething." "vVhat is it?" "I see ll1Y nose "-reflected in
the illk by the light of the fire. The experiment was a failure, the
llHtgician alleged, the boy was a. Christian.
328 jJ{agical Ele1nents in the Tale.
pahn of his hand very closely, " it is so dark; but no\v I see a long
and a large building ,vith iron gratings, and 11101'e than a
dozen skulls stuck at one corner of it; and a little farther on I see a
large ,vide gate, and beyond it a long road; and 110'V I see the
'YOlnan ill the blue jacket, and the lnan in the red coat, turniIlg
dO\Vll the second street to the left of the road; and no\v there is an

old \V0111Un opening--"


" I ,vill hear 110 n10re!" the N eapoIitan, ,vho had, heard
but too correctly described the approach to the" stew·s" of Naples;
and he struck the Loy's hand ,vith such violence against his face that
it flattened his nose. The charnl ,vas thus dissol veLl; but tho
correctness of the 111agician's revelation ,vas tolerably ,yell proved
,vhen son1e till1e after the N eapolitall suddenly appeared at his hon1e
in the Torre del Greco, and learned that his ,vife had eloped ,vith a
corporal of the guards.!

In Southern India, it ,vould seenl, froll1 the follow'ing C0111-


111unication to Notes and Queries (3rd Series, vaI. xi., l\farch 2, 1867,
p. 180), that the lnagic ll1irror elllployed to discover property
is 1110re elaborately c.olnposed than the ink-mirror used in Egypt,
1'01nindillg one of the ingredients of the "\Vitches' broth in JlIacueth ..
""\\Thile residing in Tuticorin, in the South of India, it caI11e to
llly kno'wledge that the Lubbis used the un/un, or shining globule,
placed in the hand of a boy, to discover hidden treasure or stolen
property. This globule is made of castor-oil and lanlp-black procured
fronl a lan1p the ,vick of ,yhich has been nlade of a piece of ,vhite
cloth, Inarked ,vith the blood of a cat, an o\vl, and a king-cro\v-the
eyes, S0111e of the hair and feathers, and the gall-bladder of these
anil11als being rolled up at the sanle time in the cloth. Having had
S01110 property stolen, I sent for a Lubbi-jadnagar, or ,vizard, ,yho
proll1ised to recover it, and chose ll1y dog-boy, a lad of eleven years,
as his assistant. After SOlne preliminary incantations, the boy ,vas
asked ,vhat he sa,v in the globule. He first described the inside of
a tent, said he sa\y ITlonkeys s\veeping the floor; and after gazing
1 ""l'rue Stories of Necromancy in Egypt," by o. }\JI. F. (Oharles
lane 7), in the 1Jletl'opolUan J.lla{/azine, vol. iv., 1832, pp. 250, 251.
320
intently on the globule for 80111e nlillutes got frightened at s0111ething
and began to cry. l'he Lubbi 011 this led hiln froIn the 1"00111,
returned in half an hour, and illforllled l11e that the nlissil1g articles
,vere under a chest of dra,vers in nlY O\Yll rOOln, ,vhich proved to be
the case."
Southey, in his Curse of ](ehcl1na, xi. 8-a ll1etrical tale of con·
siderable interest, though largely the fruit of his extensive reading in
half-forgotten or little-kno,vl1 books-describes a very singular Inagic
Inirror as
a globe of liquid crystal, set
In franle as diamond bright, yet black as jet.
A thousand eyes were quench'd in endless night
To form that nlagic globe.

In a later edition he has the follo,ving characteristic note on these


lines: "A sill1ilar invention occurs in Dr. Bealunont's Psyche, one
of the IllOSt extraordinary poe111s in our language. I anl far frol11
clainling any ll1erit for such inventions, which no nlan can value
1110re cheaply, but, such as it is, I alll not beholden for it to this
forgotten "Titer, \vhose strange, long, but by no 111eanS uninteresting
,,'ork I had never seen till after t,vo editions of ]{ehcl1na ,vcre
printed." If this ,vere true, it lllUst be considered as a very relllark-
able coincidence; but, unfortunately for Southey, his notes to later
editions of his longer paeIns abound in very silnilar clisclailners, all
of ,vhich can hardly be accepted, even ,vhen he has the courage, or
policy, to cite identities of thought and expression fronl okler ,vriters,
aftep such had already been pointed out by astute reviewers, as he
has done in this instance of Beaunlollt's n1agic 1nirro1', the conlposition
of ,vhich is thus fancifully and elaborately described:
A stately mirror's all enamelled case
The s'econd was; no crystal ever yet
Smiled with such pureness; never ladies' glass
Its owner flattered with so srnooth a cheat.
Nor could Narcissus' fount with such delight
Into this fair destruction hinl invite.
For he in that and self-love heing ch-owned,
Agenor fron1 hinl plucked his doting eyes;
. A.nd, :::;huffled in her fraglnent::;·, having found
Old Jezabel's, he stole the clog's due prize.
Goliah'8 staring basins too he got,
"\Vhich he with Pharaoh'ti all together put.
330 Magical Ele1nent8 in the s :['ale.
But not content with these, f1'On1 Phaeton,
From Joab, lcarus, Nebuchadnezzar,
From Philip and his world-devouring SOll,
From Sylla, Cataline, Tully, Pompey, Crosar,.
From Herod, Cleopatra, and Sejanus,
FrOtH Agrippina and DOlnitianus,
And many surly Stoics, theirs he pulled;
vVhose proud est hun10urs having drained out,
fIe blended in a large and polished mould;
Which up he filled with what from heaven he brought,
In extract of those looks of Lucifer,
In which against his God he breathed war.
Then to the North, that glassy kingdom, where
Established frost and ice for ever reign,
He sped his course, and meeting Boreas there,
Prayed hinl this liquid mixture to restrain.
'Vhen lo! as Boreas oped his Inouth and blew
For his conlnland, the slime all solid grew.
Thus was the mirror forged, and contained
The vigour of those self-admiring eyes
Agenor's witchcraft into it had strained;
A dangerous juncture of proud fallacies,
'Vhose fail' looks so enamoured hinl that he,
Thrice having kissed it, named it Ptolen1y.

Other properties, besides disclosing past, present, or future events,


are ascribed to Inirrors in Eastern popular fictions. The mirror given
by the king of the genii to Zayn al-Asnam, in the ,vell-kno,vn
Arabian tale, ,vas a certain indicator of fenlale chastity, or its
opposite: reflecting perfectly the face of a pure virgin before whonl
it ,vas held, but obscurely that of a damsel ,Yho was unchaste.-
In a Nicobar story, given in the Jou1'nal of the Bengal Asiatic
Society (vat liii., pp. 24-39), the hero receives, fronl a snake 1Nhose
enemy he had :killed, a magic ll1irror, 'v hose "slaves" (like those of
the Ring and the Lanlp in the tale of Aladdin) ,vould obey all his
orders if he only put the key into the keyhole in the case, but he was
not allo,ved to open the mirror, as he ,vas too ,veak to face the spirits
openly.-In one of the tales in the Turkish story-book, the Forty
Vez{rs (Gibb's translation, p. 244), the hero receives fronl the king of
the genii a Chinese 11111'1'01' which had this important virtue: "If
thou take it in thy hand and say, '0 mirror, by the names of God
that are upon thee, take l11e to such and such a I)lace,' and shut
'v
thine eyes, thou \vilt find thyself in that place hen thou openest
331
thenl "--a Jl1uch l110re expeditions 1110clo of travelling than that of
the Magic IIorse.
Ho\vever the so-called magIclans, ancient or 111 adCI'll, perfornlcd
their feats \vlth nlirrors, it is very certain that trickery played the
chief part, and the Egyptian fello'N ,vho exhibited his art before
E. W. Lane 111ust have been very expert when he could deceive so
shre\vd a spectator. A ,vorthy English divine, early in the seventeenth
century, Dlaintained that all such optical ill usions ,vere the ,vork of
Satan. " An illusion," says he, "is t,vo-fold; either of the out,vard
senses or of the minJe. An illusion of the out"ward senses is a "'ark
'v
of the "clevill, hereby he nlakes a nlan thinke that he heareth, seeth,
feeleth, or toucheth such things as indeede he cloth not. This the
devill can easily doe divers waies, even by the Btrength of nature.
For exanlple, hy corrupting the instrnnlents of sense, as the hU1110Ur
of the eye, &c., or by altering and changing the ayre, \vhich is the
111cans \vhereby ,ve see, and such like. Experience teacheth us, that
the devill is a skilfull practitioner in this kind, though the Ineanes
"whereby he worketh such feats be unknowne unto US."l
SOlne Chancer COnl111entators have compared the JVlil'ror of the
lady Canace to the ivory tube \vhieh occurs in the Arabian tale of
1 'A Discourse of the Da·mnr.cl A1't of TVitelw}'a/t, so fa1'l'e fOJ,tlt as it is
I)'cuealed 'i.n the S(!}'ipfu res, an(Z JJla'nife,,;t b.lJ 'l'rue Ea:jJ01'iencc.
Franled and
Delivered by 1\1. 'Villimn Perldns, in his ol'dinarie course of Preaching.'
Canlbl'idge, IGI0. Pp_ 22, 23.-If this be a fair salllple of the rever81Hl gentle-
TIHtn'S "ordiuarie course of preaching," how very pleasant and edifying hiB
sernlons nlu8t have been 1 That" silly, conceited bodie" I(illg Jalues had no
slnall share in inducing the parsons of his day to vie with each other in their
denunciations of witchcraft. Instead of exhorting the people to fight the devils
.of their own paHHions, they preached that greatest of all the existence
of an actual, personal Devil, whose chief business was to traffic with poverty-
stricl\en, Llear-eyed old wonlen. And for this they had no warrant in the
Bible, unless in that mistranslated passage, "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to
live," and the equally misunderstood incident of Saul and the vVitch of Ennor.
It has been truly remarked that the acts of the Inquisition weJ-e not Illore
diabolical than were our laws against witchcraft. Sir John Powell. one of the
judges of the Court of King's Bench, who died in 1713, was no bel iC\'el' in that
purely inlaginary crime, to hiB everlasting- honour be it renlenlbel'ed; A WOll1fitl
nauled Jane vVenhamwas tried before him for witchcraft, in proof of which
her accusers swore that she could fly. "Prisoner," said the judge, ,. can you
fly ?" "Yes, my lord," answered the deluded creature. "\tVell, then," said
he, "you nlay, {Ol' there is no law against fiying." Poor Jane thus lost her
character, but saved her life, for this sensible judge would not cOllvict even by
confession.
332 Magical Ele1nents in the J...'Jq,ui1"e's Tale.
Prince Ahnlad and the Peri B{tllll; but the property of the latter
,vas very different, being that of a telescope rather than of a 111irror
\vhich 1'ejlected on its surface coming 01' occurring events. Says the
vendor: "Thou seest that it is furnished \vith a piece of glass at
either end, and shoulc1st thou apply one ext1'elllity thereof to thine
eye, thou shalt see what thing soever thou listest, and it shall appear
close by thy side, though parted from thee by 1uany an hundred
11liles." It is probable that in an older £01'111 of the story the object
,,,as a nlagic l11irror, and a telescope was aftenvards substituted when
son1e kno,vledge of that illstrU111ent had becol118 general in the
There is reason to believe that the ancients ,vere acquainted ,vith
the properties of lenses and 111irrors which fonned erect or inverted
illlages of objects. It is only by the supposition of the use of SOlne
sort of optical illusions, such as our Inodern phantasn1agoria, that ,ve
can accept as historical facts the luany instances 1'ecorlled by reput-
able ancient \vl'iters of the sudden apparition of splendid palaces and
bloo111ing gardens, of departed spirits, and even of the gods thenl-
selves. 'rhe COIn bined sciences of chenlistry and optics have often
produced 11101'e \vonderful scenes than evor entered the 111ind of a
confirnled hashish, bang, or Opilllll eater. In Lytton's Zanoni-for
the COlllposition of ,vhich he prepared himself by a course of reading
in the \vorks of the old alchculists and astrologers-a yOling English-
man desirous of being initiated into the "l1lysteries" of the Rosi-
crucians, as a prelilninary step, is placed in U 1'00111 ,vhere his nerves
are perlnanently ,yrecked by beholding strange, gibbering, and
threatening figures on the ,valls, such as those modern 111agiciuns
could cause to appoar "by their enchantnlents "-in other ,Yords, by
" natural 11lagic."
As a pendant to the foregoing notes on Magic 1firrors, etc., I anl
telllpted to cite Henlans' fine little poenl :
THE MAGIC GLASS.
" The dead I-the glorious dead I-and shall they rise?
Shall they look on thee with their proud, bright eyes?
Thou ask'st a fearful spell !

1 In No. 9 of Dr. Barbu Constantinescu's Roumanian-Gipsy collection


(Bucharest, 1878) it is a n1irror, "in which when you looked into it you could
see both the dead and the living."
Magic .lJli1'11"o1'1s and IlI1Jages.
Yet say, fronl shrine or ditn sepulchral hall,
'Vhat kingly vision shall obey my call ?
The deep grave knows it well I
"vVouldst thou behold earth's conquerors ?-shall they pass
Before thee, flushing all the l\!Iagic Glass,
'Vith Triumph's long array?
Speak! and those dwellers in the marble urn,
Hobed for the feast of victory, shall return,
As on their proudest day.
" Or wouldst thou look upon the lords of song?
O'er the dark l\iirror that inlmortal throng
Shall waft a solmun gleanl ;
Passing, with lighted eyes and radiant brows,
Under the foliage of green laurel boughs,
But silent as a dream."
" Not these, 0 mighty Master I-though their lays
Be unto nlan's free heart, and tears, and praise
Hallowed for evermore;
And not the buried conquerors-let them sleep,
And let the flowery earth her sabbaths li.eep
In jor fronl shore to shore.
" But if the narrow house may be so moved,
Call the bright shadows of the nlost beloved
Back from their couch of rest;
That I may learn if tluJ'iJ' nleek eyes be filled
With peace, if hunutn love hath stilled
'The yearning hU111an breast."
" Away, fond youth !-an idle quest is thine;
Tlwse have no trophy, no l11emorial shrine,
I know not of their place;
l\iidst the dinl valleys, with a secret flow,
Their lives, like shepherds' reed-notes, faint and low,
Have passed and left no trace.
"Haply, begirt with shadowy woods and hills,
And the wild sounds of melancholy rills,
Their covering turf may bloOlll :
But lle'er hath Fanle l11ade relics of its flowers-
Never hath pilgrim sought their household bower:,;.
Or poet hailed their tonlb. "
"Adieu, then, l\Iaster of the midnight spell I
Some voice, perchance, by those lone graves may tell
That which I pine to know!
I haste to seek fronl woods and valleys deep,
vVhere the belov'd are laid in lowly sleep,
Records of joy and woe 1"
334 Jlfagical Elernents in the Squ.lir'e's .Tale.

FINGER-IlINGS have al\vays been held in the highest estimation


in all countries, apart from any intrinsic value they nlight possess.
They are convenient, and at the sanle tinle sufficiently conspicuous,
to be used as SYll1 b01s of the ,vearers' rank or condition. In the
love-illnnlined eyes of the nlaiden, her "engagelllent" ring is sug-
gestive of the ullutterable joys of ,vedlock-it is the pride of her
heart, and the envy of her "dearest" friends ,vho are as yet
"unattached." The plain little golden hoop ,vhich is slipped on her
finger at the altar---why, 8he ,vill kno,v better than anyone else
what its value is, and ,vhat it 11leanS, a fe\v short Inonths afterwards!
But I have nought t() do with rings of that kind, either personally or
in nlY present capacit.y of a humble worker in the great Chaucerian
dial110nd fields. J\ly business is to treat of signet-rings and gen1s,
so far as concern the Inagical properties '\",hich have been ascribed to
thenl fronl very ancient tinles. There is no call to recite the ,vell..
,vorn tale of the Ring of Polycrates; but the Signet-Ring of Solon10n,
though it nlet with a very sinlilar adventure, n1ust by no nleans be
passed over, albeit I have repeated the legend more than once else-
,vhere. For in speaking of nlngical rings, it ,vould be "the play of
IIandet ·with the Prince of Dennlark onlitted " were one to leave out
8010111011'8 Ring, ,vhich is, far and away, the n10st important of all
nlagical rings or genls that ever Illade the illlpossible an accolllplished
fact; n1adc rivers roll back to their sources; golden, gen1-becrusted
palaces and gardens spring up in the place of sandhills, causing" the
,vilderness to blossonl like the rose"; changed the beggar in his
tatters to the prince in his dazzling rohes-tl:.e veritable" I{ing of
Dianlonds"! All these marvels, and ten 111ore, have been
done through the virtue of Solonlon's Ring. The touch of
,vas nothing in cOlnparison with that Blost po\verful of all talis-
1nans ever possessed by 11lan-in story-books. The n10st forll1idable
obstacles-gates of triple steel or adanlant-in presence of that
talislllan becanle as ,vax before the fire; 1110untains ,vere as n101e-
hills; raging seas becanle flo,very nleadows; even the Inighty jinn
(genii) were rendered weak as babes and sucklings by its lllagic
llfagic Rings and Ge1ns. 335
pO\VC1'; for on it was engraved the Most Great N atne el-
A aZCi1n), the Ineffable Name of Allah. l By the power of this
wondrous talisnlan Solonlon subdued the denlons and jinn; and the
few who continued obstinately rebellious he confined in copper
vessels, which, after sealing them with his signet, he caused to be
cast into the Lake of Tiberias, there to re nlain till the J udgment
Day-unless, perchance, its waters should dry up and son1e treasure-
seeker break open the vessels (like the :F'ishern1an in the Arabian
tale), and that would be a dire nlishap, for I trow that we have
already in this '\vorld of ours devils enough and " lashins over."
13ut-\vill it be credited once actually lost this price-
less, matchless treasure! Regarding that well-nigh fatal calamity
there are (as is not unusual in the case' of affairs of great Inonlent)
two different accounts, and as these have about equal claims to be
t'i'ue, son1e readers lnay like to know both. According to one version,
then, Sololl1on had imprisoned a po\verful denlon called Aschnledai
(== ASlllodeus: the salne who figures so prolllinently in the scrib-
blings of nledireval necromancers, astrologers, and such-like rogues, or
'\vittols), 'v horn he questioned eagerly every day, on n1atters of high
import in the art of 111agic, and who returned the required
tiOll willingly enough, till one day he so excited SOl01110n'S curiosity
that he persuaded the-for once, at least-heedless nlonarch to lend
hilU his signet" for a minute or t\VO," after which he would satisfy
him with full particulars. Alack! no sooner had the fiend grasped
the talislllan than his nlaster's po,ver ,vas gone. Aschnlcdai then
gulped down the sage king of Israel, and, stretching his wings,2 flevv
hundreds of leagues before he " shot" out SOIOlllOll on a vast desert
plain, and assuming the king's f01'111 sat upon the throne of Israel,
1 The Jewish cabalists, as well as the MusliIns, entertain the Inost extrava-
gant notions as to the efficacy of the Ineffable Nanw, whether pronounced or
written on any object; all the more so, because not one man of a million
knows what that name is; and that n1an must have gone through an unheard-
of amount of severe study.
2 "Gentle reader "-a good old gentlc'nLanly phrase, which should never have
gone out of fashion-recollect the picture, in our boyhood's editions of the
Pilgri'ln's P1'ogres8, of Apollyon in his fight with John Bunyan (with Christian,
I should say, perhaps, but it's all the same), and you have an idea of Aschn1edai's
wing those of a gigantic cat!
LANE. Z
336 Magical Ele1nents in the Tale.

vlhere much evil and no good dill he, I ,veen. And no,v Solomon
,vent about, a poor beggar n1an, ,vith a staff in his hand and bare-
footed; and his constant cry ,vas: "I, S0101non, ,vas once king over
Israe.l." Of course the folk thought hin1 a dell1ented creature-" a
puir daft auld Inan "-but, cOIning at length into Jerusalem, \vith his
usual cry, like the eternal" haqq! haqq!" of the rogues of dervishes
in the streets of Ispahan, some of the fathers and elders of the city,
reflecting that a fool is never constant in his tale, thought there
nlight be s0111ething in it, after all; 11101'e especially as he ,vho sat
on the throne \vas of late far fron1 being distinguished by virtuous
words and actions. So it was deterll1ined no\v to test him-for they
had begun to suspect that he ",Tas not \vhut he seemed to be-by
reading before hiln out of the Book of the La\v. But hardly had
two words been pronounced when Aschnledai, re-aRsuming his own
form, £levY a\vay \vith loud shrieks and yells-leaving the ll1ugical
signet behind hilll, we nlust suppose, for I rather think nothing is
said on this point. And thus did 80101110n regain his killgdoll1; and
doubtless he felt himself a better and wiser 111an fr0111 his experience
as a traInp.
The other version is to this effect: SolonIon having taken captive
in his ,vars the daughters of several idolatrous kings whonl he had
conquered, he selected the best-looking of thern, and placed them in
his hareDl; and as soon as he becanle weary of his latest favourite
he fell deeply in love \vith one of those daughters of the heathen:
surely no lllan had ever greater cause to cry out, as he did, " stay me
with flagons, cOlllfort nle ,vith apples, for I an} sick of love!" It
""vas not long before this dal1lsel (she was no "painted Jezebel," as
understand the ternl, be sure) got the upper hand of her royal
lover, and induced hinl to bow the knee to false gods. But Nelnesis
,vas at hand, in the forlll of a rebellious de1110n nanled Sakhr, ,vho
had, for some tiu1e, been lurking unseen about the harenl cha111bers,
\vatching for his opportunity, ,vhich came one day, even as retribu-
tion Inust, sooner or later, conle upon all evil-doers. One morning
Solomon, before going to the bath, gave his signet to this Moabitish
\voman (or ,vhatever she 1l1ay havc been) to keep fOF hinl. Mean-
vvhile the de1l10n Salehr assulned the £orn1 of Solomon and sat on his
.lJlrtgic Rings and 337
throne; and \vhen the king came forth froIll the bath, behold, his
appearance ,vas so changed that nobody recognized hiln-in fact, as
toe say, "his nlother wouldn't have kno\vn hinl "-and so he was
igllolnilliously driven out of the' city. The legend goes on to say
that Sololnon ,vent into a far distant land and took service vvith some
fisherIllen, his daily ,vages being t\VO fishes. N O\V it, so fortuned
that as he 'was cleaning his fish one evening he found his o,,,n signet
in the ma\v of oue of thenl j and we may ,veIl suppose that he did
not take the trouble to fornlally " resign his situation," but ,vent off in
hot haste to the Holy City,! where he learned (his proper appearance
being now restored) that Sakhr's doings at length had beC0111e so
intolerable that he had been tested ,vith the Book of the Law and at
once flew a,vay. Solomon doubtless readily guessed that the detected
demon had thrown the signet into the sea, \vhile still" pricked in
conscience" (if we might think such a thing possible) by having
heard a fevv of the holy ,vords pronounced; and that the fish ,vhich
had so luckily swallowed the glittering ring kne\v full well \vhat and
\vhose it ,vas, and paddled off at top-speed to the waters in vvhich
the royal fisher daily cast his net, into \vhich it \vent, of its own
accord, of course. If Solomon did not guess all this, I do, and I
think it quite as vvorthy of credence as \vhat goes before it.-.A.nother
version of this version has it that Sulon1on, in the course of his
\vanderings, eloped \vith a pretty young princess, and becan1e a cook,
,vhen he found that thoy couldn't live solely on love; and that it
was vvhile dressing some fish for his 111aster's table that he found his
signet. But-n'i11'L1JOrte !-" either ,vay vvill do " 1

Both J e,vs and l\iuslims extol Solonlon as the greatest adept in


magic that ever lived: there was nothing he did not kno\v, nothing
he could not do. And they are in some measure justified in holding
such a belief by his own boasts of 'what he had seen "under the
SUB." Their taleR and legends of his ,visdonl, learning, skill in
llla;-ic are legion. According to the Muslinls, the nlost binding oath

1 Once 1110re in possession of his magical signet, he would, naturally, SUlnmon


his suhject demons, or jinn, and "cover the distance" even more rapidly than
could the Horse of Brass at his best.
z 2
338 J¥agical Ele'ments in the Squire's Tale.

on a genie is to s,vear him by Solonl0n's Seal, for the breach of that


oath is always followed by a terrible punishment.-That Solomon
had a signet-ring is beyond all question; he could have done no
more without it, as a monarch, or even as one of the hUlnblest
scribes of his household, than a cobbler could work without his a\vl.
That his signet was inscribed with magical characters is more than
probable. For he ,vould certainly have luany private conferences
with the gentlemen \vho canle in the train of the Princess of Egypt,
by ,vhom he nlight have been-and very likely he ,vas-instructed,
if not exactly" in all the knowledge of the Egyptians," at least in
Egyptian magic, w4ich, perhaps, really comprised the greatest part
of the 'c learning" of that ancient people.

Solomon's Ring plays a part in such a vast nunlbel' of Eastern


rOlnances and tales that-as in the case of certaiu "relics" sho\vn in
several continental churches and convents-\ve are forced to con-
clude, either that they are all frauds or (what indeed is quite likely)
that that ,vondrous talislnan has the virtue of 111ultiplying itself
indefinitely. Iu oue of the Persian ronlances edited by nle and
privately printed lately, the hero, Farrukhruz, obtains a ring fro 111
the king of the jinn, acconlpanied by the follo\ving "neat" address:
" Take this ring, which has been kept for l1lany ages in the treasury
of my ancestors,l and the possession of \vhich is connected with
nUll1erous blessings. Keep it alvvays on your finger, and it will
preserve you from all misfortunes, except \vhen you are in a state of
cerenlonial uncleanness, because the Ineffable N aIne is ,vritten on it,
and if you keep it with you w'hen in such a condition you ,viII
become subject to fits of epilepsy and lunacy, and it 'will return to
our troasury, nor ,vill any rnortal be able to cure you except our-
sel ves. Whenever any difficulty occurs to yon, turn the ring on
the forefinger of your right hand, and ask aid of the spirit of
Su layulan (on whom be blessing I), ,vhen instantly a genie ,viJJ 111ako
his appearance, to "whon1 you ll1ay entrust any sorvice, and he ,vill
1 rrhough the jilln, 'ifrits, and marids, of Arabian Inythology, aud the <livs
and peris, of the Persian, live to all age far exceeding that of "old l\1ethusalenl,"
yet they are not imlnortal, but die at last, like hUlnan beings, of old age, if their
livos have not been cut shorter by accident.
lYlagic Rings and Gems. 339
acco111plish it. But you nlust not let it be seen by ,vicked demons,
who are the sworn eneulies of mankind, lest they should deprive you
of this talisman." Itarrukhruz loses the ring by a vile trick of the
spiteful sister of the queen of the fairies, ,vho is enauloured of him,
and-as the king of the genii foretold-he becomes delirious for
S0111e time, and when he some,vhat'recovers he finds hinlself changed
to an old barber in Danlascus, in the act of shaving a custolller!
But all ends ,veIl, notwithstanding. l

If the Ring of Solomon does not really multiply itself-like


l{rishna among the co\vherdesses-perhaps it changes owners very
freqnently. Ho,vever this may be, it seenlS to have found its way to
Europe, as witness the following detailed and interesting account of
lllerely a fe,v of its qualities, by the Hell-l\faiden in the Esthoniall
st( Iry of " The Northern Dragon" :
"Here is lily greatest treasure, the like of which is not to be
found in all the \vorld; it is a costly golden ring. . . . No living
luan is now able entirely to explain the power of this ring, because
nobody can fully interpret the nlysterious signs engraved upon it.
But, even though I only half understand them, I can 'York wonders
'vhich no other living creature can imitate. If I put the ring on the
li ttle finger of my left hand, 2 I can rise in the air like a bird and fly
about wherever I ,viII. If I put the ring on the ring-finger of nlY
left hand, I beconle invisible to everyone, and I nlyself can perceive
everything which passes around Ine. If I put the ring on the
n1iddle finger of my left hand, neither sharp weapons, nor water, nor
1 Clouston's Group of Eastern Rornances and Stories (1889), pp. 163, 164 ;
168 ft'.
2 The reader will be so good as observe that in this case the Ring is to be
worn on the left hand, while in the case of the Persian hero last cited it is to be
worn on the right hand. And there is a reason for this difference. In Europe
rings commonly adorn the left hand, as being more convenient, especially when
there's much hand-shaking, or work, to be done; while in the East the left hand
is regarded, on account of certain purposes for which it is solely used, as ullclean.
I t is the (right hand that is cut off as punishment of theft; and I daresay many
of nlY readers will call to mind the story, in the Arabian Nights, of the young
gentleman who-to the surprise of his guest, till he 4eard his story-ate his
food with his left hand, keeping the sleeve of his robe over the place where his
right hand should have been.
3 to Jfagical in the Sq'ltirre's Tale.
fire can hurt nle. If I put the ring on the forefinger of my left
hand, I can procure all things that I reqHire ,vith its aid: I can
build houses in a lllonlent, and obtain other things. As long as I
,vear the ring on the thunl b of IllY left hand, nlY hand is strong
enough to shatter ,valls and rocks. 1\1:oreover, the ring bears other
nlysterious symbols, ,vhich, as I said, no one has yet been able to
interpret; but it lllay be supposed that they include 111any other
nlighty secrets. In ancient days the ring belonged to ICing Solonl0n,
the "wisest of kings, and during \vhose reign the 'wisest 111en lived.
But up to the present day it renlains unkno,vn whether the ring \vas
constructed by divine po\ver or by the hands of men; but it is
supposed that an angel gave the ring to the ,vise king."

And now ,ve have done \vith the \vondrous Ring of Solonlon, the
inlportance of \vhich in ronlantic fiction 111ight, perhaps, sufficiently
justify the foregoing notes and cOlnUlents, even did not our Chaucer
hinlself specially refer to it, in connection \vith the lady Canaec's
Ring, in these words:

Tho [i. e. then] speeken they of Canacee's ryng,


And seyden alle, that such a wonder thing
Of craft of ringes herd they never noon,
Sauf that he Moyses and kyng Salalnon
Hadden a nanle of connyng in such art.

The virtue of the so-called Ring of 1\1:oses ,vas that, when it ,vas·
drawn on anyone's finger, he at once forgot his love, and in fact
everything, hence it ,vas called the Ring of Oblivion-a useful article
to have about one, I think, in these days of "fierce unrost," when
the pleasant things nlost of us can renlenlber are so few that their
loss would be anlply compensated by the relief it would afford froll1
the incursion of sad and bitter-ay, and s0111etillles hUluiliating-
11lenlOries. It l11ay be objected that the consequence of an application
of 1\10ses' Ring -vvould be that one should then lose the "conscious
continuation of his identity," but ,vould not that be a great benefit to
lUany of us 1 Is it not in that sanle " continuation of identity" that
our 8elf-love has its existence 1 Self-love is a good thing only ,,,hen
ilfagic .Rings and 341
\ve have learned to " love our neighbours as ourselves." But let this
pass, and pass \ye on to our proper business.!

Besides the Ring \vith the lnaking of \vhich Moses was credited
in Inedireval tin1es, it ,vould seenl that 11lany other rings possessed the
quality of causing the o\vners to forget just \vhat they should have
best relnen1bered, as. soon as they parted \vith thenl. Reauers
familiar \vith European folk-tales \vill recollect numerous instances
of a young prince-in popular tales the hero is usually either a
young prince or a young pauper-having, in the course of his
adventures, becon1e enallloured of sonle pretty little 11laid, and, on
leaving her to retnrn h0111e, giving her his ring as a pledge that he'd
C0111e back soon and nlarry her; and how he forgot the little 11laid
the monlent he stepped over his father's threshold, and \vas actually
seated at table beside another bride (their nuptials not having yet
been solenlnized, ho\vever), \vhen the forgotten little lllaid, \vho had
procured s01l1ething to do in the palace-kitchen, contrived to drop his
O\Vll ring into his cup of \vine, and so forth. It is true that some-
tinles the Inaid stipulates that her lover should kiss no person as he
enters his hon1e, othervvise he'd forget her altogether, but generally,
I in1agine, the ring has some\vhat to do with the forgetfulness.
Not to nlultiply instances of this kind of " oblivion," I shall only
refer to the plot of the celebrated IIindll drallla of Sakuntald, \vhich
turns upon a lost ring. The raja Dushnlan ta, while hunting, is
separated frolll his attendants, and falls in love with a beautiful
Inaiden, called Salnintahl, who has been brought up in the forest by
a holy luan. The king marries her by ,vhat is knovvn as the
Gandharva form, in \vhich the usual ceremonies are dispensed \vith,
and 'v hen his attendants at last discover him, before returning to
his capital he gives her his signet-ring. But he totally forgets this
n10st interesting episode for years: Sakun tala has' lost the ring, and
1 I cannot help here remarking, however, that perhaps many a man might
find something Inore practicable than Rings of Oblivion and Magic lVIirrors were
he to try to follow the counsel of the great American poet: "Look not lllourn·
fully into the It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present.
I t is thine. Go boldly forth into the shadowy Future, without fear, and with a
Inanly heart."
342 JJlagical in the Tale.
when she presents herself, with her child, before hilll, he does not
recognize her. One day a large rohita fish is brought to the palace,
and the cook in cutting it open finds the royal signet in its inside,
and sends it to the raja, who instantly recollects the forest adventure,
and sending for the fisherman. ,vha had brought the 1 Ohitct, he fO

questions him regarding the ring. The poor lllan, of course, kno\vs
nothing about it-an he could say was that having caught a very
fine rohita, he deenled it fit only for the royal table. In the sequel
Sakuntula is united to Raja Dushulanta. 1

The magical properties popularly ascribed to rings-or rather the


gems which are set in thenl-and to precious stones generally are
far-reaching: it nlay be truly said that there is scarcely an evil,
nloral or physical, ,vhich one or other of them cannot cure or avert.
In John Lydgate's Troy Book, when J ason is about to fight the
brazen bull, and lull the dragon to sleep, he receives fronl Medea a
ring in which was a genl that had the virtues of destroying the
efficacy of poison and of rendering the wearer invisible. This second
quality of the genl is similar to that of the Ring of Gyges.
In the well-knovvn tale of Jonathas, chap. 46 of S\van's transla=
tion of the Gesta a father bequeaths his youngest son,
inter alia, a ring which" vvon the wearer the love of all men."- The
49th of Doni's novelle is to the effect that Charlemagne becanle so
deeply enamoured of a lady that he neglected state affairs altogether.
The fair one died suddenly, much to the relief of the court. But the
king caused her body to be enlbahned and clothed in purple and
decorated with gems; and he visited the dead body constantly, neg-
lecting every duty. The bishop of Cologne heard a voice froln
heaven, saying that under the mouth of the dead one was hidden the
cause of the king's infatuation. He goes unobserved, and finds a
little genl-ring, which he takes away. The king's love is suddenly
transferred to the bishop,. who at last throws the ring into a lYlarsh for
1 As the above rough outline of this fine dranla is sketched from menlory,
not having "at this present writing" any Ineans of access to Sir MonieI'
Willialns' elegant translation, I trust any inaccuracies there may be in it will
be pardoned.
Magic Rings and Ge1T2Js. 343

safety; but the king takes a violent fancy for the spot, and builds a
palace and ten1pIe there, and there spends the rest of. his life.
Hatiln Tal, the generous pre-Ishtmite Arab chief, having slain a
lTIOnstrous dragon, took fronl its head a gelu 1 "\vhich had several
marvellous virtues: it could cure the blind; confer profound wisdom
and boundless wealth; secure victory in battle; and cause its pos-
sessor. to be loved alike by friend or foe.
In the Indian story-book Sinhdsanrt DUJatrinsati (or rather in
its Hind! fornl, Sinluisan Bcdtisi), Vikramaditya, on taking his
conge from Sheshanaga, king of the infernal regions-a very pleasant
place, according to the description given of it in the tale-whom he
had been visiting, is presented vvith four gems. "One of these,"
said I{illg Sheshanaga, "will produce at a 1110nlent's notice any
ornaments you may desire; the second, elephants, horses, and palan-
quins; by llleans of the third you may obtain "\vealth to any extent;
and the fourth will assist you in offering prayer and in practising
virtue." Vikranut then SUlllllloned his attendant demons-for, like
8010111011, all sorts of demons were at his cOlllmand-who conveyed
hhn back to his own country; and when ,vithin about two n1iles
of his capital he dislllissed them and continued his journey on
foot. Meeting with a poor Brahman ,vho asked alms of him,
Vikrtuna said: "0 venerable you may have your choice of
any of these four gems," and then he explained their respective
qualities. The Brahlllan replied that he should like first to go hon1e
and consult his family. So he went home, and Vikran1a waited his
return. The Brahman infornled his wife, son, and daughter-in-la"v
of the properties of the four je,vels. His 'wife advised hinl to choose
the one that supplied DIoney, for ,vealth brings friends, learning,
piety, nlerit, and charity. 2 The son ,vould have hinl choose the
stone that bestowed dignity and faille. The daughter-in-law pre-
ferred the genl that furnished ornanlents. Then said the Brahman:
1 The notion that dragons and serpents have valuable gems in their heads is
commonly held throughout the East at the present day, and was 011ce also
general throughout Europe.
2 Is not this meant to be sarcastic Certainly, in one sense, "he who has
wealth has relations; he who has wealth has friends; he who has wealth is a
very sage t
)J
344 J1fagical Ele1liJents in the Tale.
" Yon are all very foolish. I \vill choose the gelll \vhich \vill assist
111e in my devotion"; and returning to the raja he told. hilll how his
fanlily could not agree upon the particular genl to be selected. Vik-
rcllna then gave all the four genls to the poor Bralnnan, \vho blessed
him and \vent a\vay.l
In the Japanese ronlance of The Old of the tenth
century (translated by IVIr. li-'. Victor Dickins), ,ve read of a dragon
that has in its head" a jewel, rainbow-hued, and he ,vho shall \vin it
shall want nothing that he lnay desire." And in Mr. Mit.ford's
Tales of Old Japan, Little Peachling finds ulllong the treasures in
the ogres' castle "genls which governed the ebb and flo,v of the
til1e."-In the Romance of Ta'i, there is mentioned a stone
\vhich, bound on the arnl, enabled one to see all the gold and silver
and gems hidden in the bowels of the earth. And, coming back to
Europe at a single bound, in one of the Early English versions of tl1e
Gesta ROma?lOrU1n, a pOOl' faggot-nlaker is re\varded by a grateful ser-
pent, whom he had succoured, with a stone of three colours, which,
he ,vas infornled by the "stoner" (or je\veller) to whonl he sub-
11litted it, possessed three virtues, "bestowing evernlore joy without
heaviness, abundance \vithout fail, and light without darkness."
Bnt the" stone of three c?lours" (probably nleaning, three stones
of different colours) \vhich ,vas set, in the ring of Reynarc1 the Fox,
and the loss of which he laments, was endowed \vj th a greater
variety of useful qualities than a round dozen of any other genls
eOlnbined. He declares that he possessed "a rynge of fyn golcle,
ano. ,vithin the rynge next the fyngre \vere ,vreton lettres enanleld
sable and asure, and ther \vere thre hebre,vs nanles therin."
Reynard could not read or spell. them, but a "je\v, IVlaister Abrion,
of Tryer, a \vyse man ... albeit he beleueth not 011 God," 2 to \Vh0111
he showed the ring, told him they were the three nunles that 8eth

] The renowned Duke Huon of Bordeaux, according to the ronlance which


records his chivalric. exploits, gathered some stones fronl the bod of an under-
ground river, one of which preserved its bearer from poison, another fronl fire
and sword, a third from all discomfort and old age, a fourth cured blindness, and
a ftfth rendered its owner invisible.
2 "IIoncst" Reynard nleant, no doubt, that "lVlaister Abrion" did not
believe in Jesus Christ.
Magic Rfings and Gents. 3-15
brought out of Paradise "when he fetched his father Adam the Oil of
Mercy.l "And ,vhonl someuer bereth on hynl thise thre names he
shal nener be hurte by thondre ne lyghtnyng; ne no "\vitchcraft shaI
haue power ouer hynl, ne be tempted to doo synne. And also he
shal neuer take harnl by colde, though he laye thre ,vynters longe
nygl1tis in the feelde, though it snowed, stormed or froze, neuer so
sore. So grete nlyght haue thise wordes : ',vytnes of Maister Abrion.
"Withought forth on the rynge stode a stone of thre nlaner
colours; the one part was lyke rede cristalle, and shoon lyke as fyre
had ben therin, in such ,vyse that yf one wold goo by nyght, hynl
behoued non other lighte, for the shynyng of the stone l1lade and
gaf as grete a light as it had ben mydday. That other parte of the
stone ,vas 'vhyte and clere, as it had ben burnysshid. vVho so had
in his eyen ony SInarte or sorenes, or in his body ony S\VellYllge or
heed ache, or ony sykenes without forth, yf he stryked this stolie on
the place wher the gryef is, he shal anon be hole; or yf ony man be
seke in his body of venynl, or yIle nlete in his stomach, of colyk,
strallguyllon, stone, fystel, or hanker, or any other sekenes, sauf only
the vel'Y deth, late hym leye this stone in a litle ,vatre, and late
hym drynke it, and he shal forth"\vyth be hole, and quyte of his
sekenes. . . . Forthenlore the thirde colour ,vas grene, lyke glas, but
ther ,vere SOillllle sprynklis therin lyke pnrpure. The maistel' told.
for that ,vho that bare this stone vpon hym shold. neuel' be
hurte of his enenlye, and that nOlllan, 'vere he neuer so stronge and
hardy, that nlyght mysdoQ hym; and ,vhere euer that he fought he
shold haue victorye, were it by nyght or daye, also ferre as he behelo.
it fastyng; and also therto where someuer he ,vente, and in ,vhat
fehnvship, he shold be bylouyd, though they hadde hated hYUl to fore;
yf he had the ring vpon hym, they sholcl fol'gete theyr angre as sone
as they sawe hym. Also though he were al naked. in a felde agayn
an hondred armed ll1en, he shold be wel herted, and escape fro thelll
,vith worship. But he moste be a noble, gentle man, and hane no
charles condicions, for thenne the stone had no myght."
1 8eth went to Paradise to obtain for his father some of the Oil of Compas·
sion, which exuded froln the Tree of Life, but the angel refused his request, and
so Adam laid himself upon his mother's lap and diec1.-See Apocryphal Gospels
&c., translated by Alex. Walker: Revelation of Moses."
346 .llfag·z'cal Ele1nents in the 8 Tale.
Altogether apart fronl "ll1agic" gems, it was popularly believed
that every precious stone had inherently a virtue, or virtues, of its
own. Reginald Scot has favoured us with a few exanlples:
" An agat (they saie) hath vertue against the biting of scorpions
or serpents. It is written (but I ,vill not stand to it) that it ll1aketh
a man eloquent, and procureth the favour of princes; yea that the
fume doth turne awaie teu1pestes. Alectorius is a stone
about the hignesse of a beane, as cIeare as the christall, taken out of
a cocks bellie which hath beene gelt or nlade a capon four years. If
it be held in one's mouth, it asswageth thirst, it nlaketh the husband
to loue the wife, and the bearer invincible: for hereby IVfiIo ,:vas said
to OUerC0111e his enemies. . . . Amethysus luaketh a dronken luan
sober, and refresheth the ,vit. l'he coraIl preserveth such as bare it
fron1 fascination or bewitching, and in this respect they are hanged
about children's necks," and so forth.!
But such notions are scouted-or doubted-by Sir Tho111aS
Browne, though even he was not always superior to the "vulgar
errors" he atten1pted to correct :
"That jaspis, heliotropes, and Lloodstones lnay be of
vertue to those intentions they arc employed, experience and visible
effects' 'vill luake us grant. But that an anlethyst prevents inebria-
tion; that an amethyst will break if worn during copulation; that a
diamond laid under the pillow will betray the inconstancy of a wife;
that a sapphire is preservative against all enchantn1ents; that the
fUllle of an agate will avert a tempest, or the ':vearing of a chryso-
phrase lllake one out of love with gold, as some have delivered, ,ve
are yet, I confess, to believe, and in that infidelity are likely to end
our days." 2
Southey, in Thalaba the Dest1'oyer, B. iii. 1, makes one of the
characters thus describe the natural properties of sonle precious
stones: Every gem,
So sages say, hath virtue, but the science

1 The DisC01wrie of Witchc1'ajt, by Reginald Scot; 1584; B. xiii. ch. 6, p.


293 f.
2 Sir Thomas Browne's into Vulgar and Common Errors (1646);
vVilkins' ed., 1825, ch. v.
Magic Rings and 347
Of difficult attaiull1ent; son1e grow pale,
Conscious of poison, or with sudden change
Of darkness warn the wearer; sonle preserve
From spells, or blunt the hostile weapon's edge;
S01ne open rocks and nlountains, and lay bare
Their buried treasures; others make the sight
Strong to perceive the presence of those beings
Through whose pure essence as through elnpty air
The unaided eye would pass.

It woulu occupy too much space and time to discuss the subject
of snake-gems-a survival, undoubtedly, of the serpent cult, which
at one period prevailed all over the world. In European folk-tales,
as "veIl as in Asiatic fictions, the hero is often represented as saving a
snake from being burned or frozen to death, and obtaining as a re"vard
a stone or gem which works wonders. l\tlost of the astonishing
achievements of Aladdin's La1np are in other talcs, both Vlestern and
Eastern, performed by a snake-stone, though the gem is not always
bestowed by a serpent. In the Talnil romance translated by Pandit
Natesa Sastri, under the title of Dravidian Nights'
a fortunate youth obtains from an ichneulTIon, whom he had fostered
for sonle tilne, a ring, \vhich he has only to put on his finger and
\vish for anything, when it will instantly appear before hinl. By the
power of this ring, a vast city is raised up in the heart of a jungle.
Variants of this tale are found in the Burnlese story-book, the Decisions
of Princess Tlzoo-Dha1n1na Tsari,' in the I{alnluk Relations of Siddhi
Kur; in No. 10 of M. Dozon's Contes Albanais, and several other
collections. In nlany of the stories of this class the hero's talisman
is stolen £ronl hin1, and, like Aladdin when the African magician
exchanged "new lamps for old " to his o"vn advantage, the palaces,
&e., at once disappear, but, by the help of three, grateful animals,
who are attached to the hero from his kindness towards them, the
wonder-working stone is ultimately recovered.-Here I conclude my
notes on luagic rings and gems in general, and proceed to the subject
'w hich is more especially suggested by the peculiar virtue of the lady
Canace's ring.
348 JJfagical Elc'7lLcnts in the sTale.

THE third gift 'which the Indian alnbassador presented fr0111 his

royal l1laster, "the king of Araby and Illd," vvas the golden Ring
which, at his unexpected entrance on horseback into the banqueting
:pall, he was observed to ,veal' on his thUlllb, as usual; and, having
disposed of the previous tvvo gifts, he thus goes on to describe its
qualities:
"The vertu of this ryng, if ye 'wol hO:'ro,
Is this, that who so IU8t it for to "'ore
Upon hir tho111b, or in hir pUTS to bere,
TheI' is no foul that fieeth undt:l' the heven,
That sehe ne sel1al unc1oI'stonden his steven,
And know his 11lenyng openly and pleyu,
And answer hirn in his langage ageyn.
And every gras that groweth npon roote
Behe sehal eek know, to whon1 it wol do boote,
Al be his ",·ouudes never so deel) and wyde."

In a Gernlan tale there is a ring having the Sa111e property: A prince


comes to a castle where all the people are fast asleep (enchanted 7) ;
and in a hall of the castle he finds a table on \vhich lay a golden
ring, and this inscription vIas on the table: "vVhoever pnts this ring
in his lnouth shall understand the language of birds." lIe after-'
vvards puts the ring in his lTIouth, and by understanding ,vhat three
crovvs are saying one to another is saved froln death. 1
According to Lane (Arabian Nights, i. p. 35), J\fuslinls "still
believe that all kinds of birds and 111any (if not all) beasts llave a
language by \vhich they C0111111Unicate their thoughts to each other':'
This notion is by no means peculiar to 1\1 uslinls, but prevails through-
out the East generally, and it was also held in Europe during the
1Vfiddle Ages. That l1lany kinds of vvhat vie are pleased to consider
as "the lo"wer anitnals" do possess some ll1eans, 1110re or less perfect,
of conlmunicating ,vith one another-particularly of 'Yarning their
conlpallions of danger and of thenl to a certain spot-- i;::; nlost
but variations of an inarticulate cry do not surely constitute
language / though, after all, 'vc really do not kno,v to "what extent
1 Mr. J. G. Frazor (quoting vVolfI"s De'lfJtsche I-Ia'lfJs1narchen), in a very able
paper on the Language of Animals, in the Archceological Review, vol. i. p. 163.
Language of 349
the more intelligent beasts and birds are capable of interchanging
their ideas-for £deas they have, undoubtedly, and S0111e of then1 aro
111uch Illore intelligent than nlany hUll1an beings. In the Esthonian
song of Wannenlune it is said: "At first not only n1en but even beasts
enjoyed the gift of speech. N o\vadays there are but fevv people ,vho
understand beast-language and hearken to their comn1unications."
The notion is very ancient. Both the Rabbis and Muslinl doctors
agree that 8010n10n ,vas past nlaster in the language of all kinds of
creatures, do\vn to the hUlllble but industrious ant-\vhose
" \vays"· he seems to have" considered" carefully, though, probably,
not ,vith the scientific eye of Sir John Lubbock! It was a hoopooe,
or lap,ving, that brought Solomon an account of the city of Saba (the
8heba of our English Bible) and of the beautiful and acconlplished
queen \vho ruled over it. And indeed the sage Hebrew l1l0narch
hil1lself would seem to indicate his belief in (if not his knowledge of)
bird-language, ,vhen he in his Book of Ecclesiastes, x. 20, that
"a bird of the air shall tell the matter."
Serpents aTe, sOlneho\v, generally represented in folk-tales as
possessing a kno,vledge of the language of aniu1al s, and of iU1parting
the sanle to their benefactors. We have high authority for the
expression" 'wise as serpents," but I know of none that should induce
us to consilIer theIl1 as also learned. It is of 1\lelanlpus that
" one clay, while be was asleep under an oak tree, 80rne serpents carne
ancl cleaned his ears with their tongues, and \vhen he awoke he ,vas
surprised to find that he understood the language of birds and. kne\v
all the secrets of nature." A.mong the absurdities so foolishly
ascribed by the Younger Pliny to Delnocritus-and 80 unsparingly
conden1ned by Aulus Gellius, as being utterly inconsistent with the
character of that philosopher-is that he asserted "if the blood of
certain birds be mingled together, the conlbination ,viII produce Et
serpent, of ,vhich ,vhoever eats ,vill become endowed with the gift of
understanding the language of birds."-In the Edcla, ,vhere is founel
the oldest forDl of the Siegfried legend, we read that Sigurd aft.er
slaying the dragon FaJnir proceeds to roast the monster's heart. lIe
puts in his finger to see if it is roady, and burning it applies it to his
mouth in order to assuage the pain, 'when he ilnnlediately found that
350 Magical in the l ale.
1

he knew the birds' language, and as one result of this ne\vly-acquired


knowledge he takes ,yarning of approaching danger froll1 the con-
versation of sonle eagles. And Eric the Wise is also said, in the
Eddas, to have learned to understand the language animals by
eating a soup nlade of snake's flesh..
It was froIn the 1\1:oors in Spain, says William of Mallllesbury,
that Gerbert, aftervvards Pope Sylvester Ill., learned the lueaning of
the cries and the flight of birds.l That the dabblers in the occult
sciences-necronlancers, astrologers, et hoc genus o1nne-poss:::,ssed
son1e sort of forll1ula by which they believed (or nlade others believe)
the voices of beasts and birds, especially the latter, could be inter-
preted is, I think, highly probable; for even the professed cheater
nlust have sonle specious ojJeTandi. I anl far fronl believing,
however, that the students of ll1agic, alchenly, ancl astrolqgy in the
Middle Ages, and lllHCh later, were all conscious inlpostors. It is
very well kno\vn that 111any a fair domain and enorn10US Sluns of
nloney disappeared in the alchelnist's crucible and alenlbic, in the
strong faith of discovering the secrets of converting the baser 111etals
to pure gold, and of concocting the el?'xir vitce-the vvaters of the
Fountain of Everlasting Y onth condensed into a one-ounce phial, so
t!) speak! But there vvere not a few arrant rogues <11110ng thenl, as
full of cunniDg tricks as a modern Egyptian sharper-:--witness the
tube filled \vith gold, used, by Raynlond Lully and other gentry like
hilll, in stirring the nlolten lead, after the "povvder of projection"
,vas thro\vn in, thus producing the very eyes of their credulous
patrons a sll1all bit of the precious 111etal, as a specilllen of their art!
- I ,vas going to say, before this digression dropped fron1 nlY pen,
that there can be little doubt but that at Cordova and other Arabian
colleges the "science" of bird-language ,vas taught along ,vith
cognate 111ysteries.
I do not ask Jean J acques Rousseau,
If birds confabulate or no ;
'Tis very clear that they were able
To hold discourse-at least in fable-

1 Gerbert is said to have acquired a much 1110re ttseful piece of knowledge


at Oordova, llanlely, the use of what are still called by us " Arabic IHlluerals,
H

though they are of Intlian origin; at all events, the Arabs thelllsclves admit
IULYing obtained tlwrn fronl India.
of A 351
quoth William Cowper.-The origin of the Beast-Fable is still a
vexeclquestion. Some will have it that it was at first adopted as a
safe vehicle for conveying reproof or advice to despotic princes, who
were not likely to submit to be lectured in plain "langna.ge. Others,
again, are of the opinion that it had its source in-or 'was suggested
by-the belief in"metempsychosis, or the nligration of the soul after
death into another body; not al\vays, or 'perhaps frequently, again'
into hunlan form, burinto that of some beast, bird, or fish. Thus a
jackal, at present, nlay have been in a former state of existence, or
"birth," a prince; and a prince, at present, may have been a poor'
labourer, or a cat, dog, horse, bull, peacock, tortoise, and so on. This"
theory seenlS to be supported to SOlne extent by the fact that the
allinlals who figure in the Indian lfables discourse like good Hindlls,
talk of saying their prayers, of obligatory bathing, and of being ,veIl
versed in the Vedas and other sacred books. That is to say, they do
not talk as cats, mice, frogs, &c. might be supposed to think-allow-
ing theln to be capable of thinking and reasoning-but rather like
sages. This ,vill appear as no inconsistency to the ordinary Hindll.
nlind, ,vhile the contrary would be so considered; for the cat or the
nlouse is understood to be a human being rc-born in that aninlal
forl11, and therefore capable of thinking as he did in a previous birth.
And the Hindll. entertaining such a belief nlust also believe that the
different kinds of beasts and birds he sees every day possess a lan-
guage whereby they communicate with each other, though, as the
Esthonian song says, fe,v men can understand thelll. \Ve very fre-
quently find in Indian story-books 111en nlentioning, among the rare
acco111plishments ,vhich they possess, a knowledge of the languages
of birds and beasts-see, for example", Tawney's translation of the
Kathd Scn-';t Sagara, vo!. i. p. 499, and lJassi'ln.
In romantic fictions, and in our ordinary household or fairy
tales, the hero is conlmonly represented as being perfectly fanliliar
with the speech of beasts and birds, and the acquirenlent stands him
in good stead many a tinle and oft; for by overhearing their con-
versation he is enabled to escape dangers, or to achieve the object on
,vhich he is bent. Birds, especially, are very" kno\ving," doubtless
in consequence of their long" excursions to far distant lands, '\vhere
LANE. AA
3Ej2 Magical Ele1nents in the :Pale.

they see and hear all kinds of strange things, and on their return
h01ne they freely C01111ilunicate their tidings to each other. A few
exalnples ,vill perhaps suffice for the general reader-those ,vho are
familiar with European and Asiatic folk-tales need none of the
infornlation that I can impart, so they will pardon nle if 'what I no,v
have to say is to thenl a "t\vice-told tale," as it is intended for such
as are not so 'well acquainted vvith the subject.
The earliest eXRtnple at present kno\vn of men being falniliar
,vith the speech of aninlals is found in the Egyptian r01nance of t\VO
brothers, Anapu and Satu, \vhich is contained in one of the Hieratic
papyri preserved in the British 1\;1USeU111, and 'was ,vritten 1110re than
three thousand years ago. vVhen the younger brother is about to
stall tllC oxen for the night, one of the aniruals ,yarns hiDl that
Anapu iR lurking behind the dOOI; ready to slay hinl ,vhen he should
enter, and Satu is convinced of his brother's l11urderous purpose
'when he looks underneath the door and discovers his feet, and then
flees for his life.
In the 1'alnil romance, .1Jfadana-I{arnara}a17kadai, translated by
1\fr. Natesa Sastr! under the title of the DTavidian Nights' Entertain-
?nents, the prince and his cOlllpanion-the latter being the 1"0(1,1 hero
-returning to their own country, encamp for the uight under a
banyan-tree, and all are asleep save the ever-,vatchful friend of tho
prince, "vho hears a pair of o,vls conversing. Said the male bird:
"lYfy dear, the prince who is encanlpec1 uncleI' our tree is to die
shortly by the falling on him of a big branch ,vhich is about to
break." "And if he should escape this calanlity quoth the
female. " Then," said the other, " he \vill die to-1110rrOW, in a ri vel',
in the dry bed of 'v hich he is to pitch his tent: ,vhen rrlidnight
C0111eS a heavy flood ,vill rush down and carry hinl a,vay." " 13ut
should he also escape this second calamity said the "Then
he ,,,ill surely die by the hands of his ,vife vvhen he reaches his own
city." cc And should he escape this third calalnity also " l\fy
dear love," answered the Inale bird, " he cannot escape it; but if he
should do so, by any chance, then he 'will reign as king of kings for
11l1ndreds of years," adding that anyone who happened to kno,v this
secret and revealed it, his head should instantly burst into a thousand
Language of 353
pieces. The 11linister's son at once rel1loved the sleeping prince to a
spot far flonl the tree, and scarcely had he done so when. a branch
of the tree broke 1vith a crash that aroused all the arlllY as ,veIl as
the prince, ,yha " Surely I ,vas sleeping in the very teut
,vhich that branch has crushed 1 IIo\v was I removed hither 7"
The minister's son sinlply said, "I heard the noise of the breaking
branch and rell10ved you out of danger." The following night ,vhen
they reach the bank of a river-bed, all prefer to encamp 011 the bank
but the prince, ,vho insists on having his tent pitched in the dry
bed of the river. At lllidllight the 11linister's son heard, yet afar off,
the rushing sound of the ,vaters, and rellloved the prince 011 his
couch to a place of safety; he saves his nlaster fronl the third
calanlity, but I have no space here for the details.
In the Danish tale ,vhich recounts the adventures of Svenu
(Thol'pG's Yule-Tide Slories), just as the hero is falling asleep, t,velve
cro,vs COlne and perch on the elder-trees over his head. They began
to converse, and one told another ,vhat had happened to hhn that
day. vVhen they \vere about to flyaway again, one cro\v said, " I
aln ·so hungry, "where shaH I get sOlllething to eat The crow's
brother ans\yered, ""Ve shall have food enough to-morro,v, \vhen
father has killed Svelld." Quoth another, "l)ost thou think that
such a nliserable fello,Y \vill dare to fight ,vith our father " Yes,
it is likely enough that he \vill; but it \vill not profit hiu1 much,
since our father cannot be overCOlue but with the l\fan of the Moon's
s',vord, and that hangs in the nl0und, \vithin seven locked doors, before
each of which are t,vo fierce dogs that never sleep." Svend thus
learned that he should be si111ply sacrificing his strength in
iug a contest \vith the dragon before he had Inade hill1s.Jf l1laster of
the Man of the 11oon's sword, which he obtains by 111eans of a finger-
stall that rendered him invisible, and with that irresistible blade he
sle\y the Ulonstrous dragon.
Prince Taj ul-1fuluk, the hero of the charming rOl1lanCe of the
Gul-i-Bakctu)(di (or Rose of in \vandering through a forest,
clinlbs into a tree at night to secure hilnself fronl \yild beasts. In the
tree a rncl'ina (or hill-starling) had her nest, and he heard her little ones
ask her what treasures there ,vere in the jungle. She replied.: "As
AA2
354 Magical Elernents in the Sqlltire's Tale.

you proceed to,vards the south there is on the edge of the lake a troe
of enorlnqus growth. Anyone placing a piece of the bark of that tree
on his head will become invisible to all, while everything is visible
to hilll; but no person can go to that tree, because it is guarded by a
huge dragon, which neither svyord nor arrow can ,vound." l'ho
young ones inquired, "Hovv then could anyone reach there "
The lnaina ans,vered, "If a courageous and prudent nlan should go
to the border of the lake, he 11lUst leap into it, when the dragon vvill
attack hinl, and he will be changed into a raven, and lll11st then
place himself on one of the western branches of that tree, ,vhere he
will find green and red fruits. Should he eat one of the red fruits,
will regain his original form; and by eating a green fruit he ,vill
beconle invisible; and by placing one in his girdle he can travel
through the air. The leaves will heal ,vounds, and its "rood will
open the strongest locks and break the strongest bodies." It is need-
less to say that the hero took care to profit by this inforluation. 1
In Miss :Frere's Old Deccan Days, the raja Vikranl is suffering
great pain in consequence of a cobra having crept into his throat
,vllile he slept. His bride overhears sonle cobras talking, one of
vvhich tells the others that if certain lluts are pounded and nlixed
'with cocoa-nut oil, set on fire, and burned beneath the raja, the cobra
,vould be instantly killed and drop to the ground. Moreover, if the
sanle were done at the nlouth of his hole, he, too, vvould be killed,
and then they lllight find the treasure he guards. Of course, the
raj tt is cured and the treasure gained.
The story of "The Three Cro'\Vs" (in Grhnlu's collection) ll1ust
be very generally InlO\Vn: how a poor solJier, who had been robbed,
and beaten, and blinded by his conlrades, and then left at the
gallows-foot, fast bound, overheaTd three crovvs, perched high on a
neighbouring tree, talking together. One said that the king had
voV\red to marry his daughter to the Juan \vho should cure her of the
111ala(ly £1'0111 ,vhich she suffered, and that the remedy vIas burning a
blue flovver and giving her the ashes in water; the second, that such
a dew 1vonld fall that Sa1110 night, which applied to a blind n1all's
eyes ,vould restore his sight; and the third told ho'v the great dearth
1 Clouston's Grronp of .EastC1'n Rornances and Stories, p. 298.
Lang·uagc Dj Anirnals. 355
of ,vater in the city could be rell1edied. The poor fellow bathes his
eyes in the de wand gets back his sight; he cures the princess and
finds the ,vater. His conlracles after\vards learn from hinl the cause
of his good fortune, and go to hear what the crows next ta.lk about,
but they pick out the rascals' eyes, believing it was they who had
learned their secrets. This story is ,vide-spread, and for Norse, Por-
tuguese, N ol'th African, Siberian, Arabian, and Persian versions, I
refer the reader to ll1y POJyltlar Tales and Fictions, vol. i. p. 250 if.
The COn11110n saying" as 1l1ute as a fish" is ignored in folk-tales,
\vhich, like fables, are superior to the so-called "facts" of natural '
history. Everybody ren1en1bers the witty retort of poor Goldy-one
of the very fe\v, by the ,vay, that prejudiced Boswell has recorded of
the genial lrishl1lan-to the burly Doctor ,vhen he said it was no
difficult 11lutter to \vrite fables-" Don't say so, Doctor," cried Goldy;
" for were you to \vrite a fable about little fishes, you'd ll1ake 'en1
talk like whales."-Grateful fishes often figure in folk-tales, as well
as beasts and birds: in Indian stories this is natural enough) as I
have already explained (p. 351), and when ,ve meet ,vith instances
of 8jJeakiug fish in European fictions we 11lay be pretty sure they are
of Asiatic extraction. There need, ho\vever, be no doubt of this in a
Hungarian tale, in which the hero (Pengo) sees in a pool a small
golufish lalllenting. "'''hat ails you " "Ah, the river beyond
there lately overflo"\ved its banks. I s,vam out beyond the banks
and did not get back soon enough; and when this little pool dries
altogether I must die." " Not so," quoth the prince, "I ,vill take
you back to the river." "Good youth," said the fish, "take one of
nlY scales, and "\vhenever you are in need breathe on it and I shall be
at your side." 1

From the foregoing examples it will be seen that bird-language,


or rather, the speech of animals generally, is a very important factor
1 This was evidently a good genie, or fairy, who had assumed the form of a
fish in order to test the hero's hUluanity. In other tales such beings appear to
the hero as poor deerepit old 111en and women, apparently in sore distress. The
scale to be breathed upon here takes the place of the bird's feather, or the hair
froln a good genie's head, in other tales, which is to be burned when the hero is
in any difficulty.
356 . .Wagical Elc17Lents in the SquJi1"e's Tale.

in folk-tales. S0111etiuJes, instead of birds or beasts, the " secrets"


which are overheard by the hero, and of which he does not fail to
make good use, are unvvittingly revealed, in Norse tales, by trolls,
and in Indian fictions, by blnlts, or de1110nS that take up their abode
in old wells or ruins; but the result is invariably the saUIe: the hero
is 'Yarned and escapes from danger; he learns the llleans by which
he nlay conquer a foe, effect a ITliraculons cure, and beconle "rich
beyond the dreall1-8 of avarice."-When the fair lady Canace goes to
walk in the park on that-to her-eventful 1110rning ,vhich succeeded
the never-ta-be forgotten birthday feast of her royal father Call1byus..
kan, our poet-for a ,yonder-does not launch into a rhapsody on
the love-songs of the birds, which Canace had, of course, often heard
before, but now, with the Inagic Ring in her possession, ,vas better
able to appreciate-an unpardonable oversight of Chancer, surely!
The true poet, it 111ay ,veIl be supposed, requires not the aid of any
Inagic ring to interpret for hilll the voices of birds in the grove at
eal>ly 1110rn: he knovvs perfectly that they, one and all, "sing love
on every spray." But the lady Canace silnply a kind-hearted
111aiden, who had but a vague notion that the songs of the feathered
lninnesingers had but one thenle; and the Ring nlust then have
helped to shed a clearer light in her tender bOS0111, by ,vhich she
would come to knovv, for the first tillle, vvhat is "that thing called
Love." Let us see ho'v a young l\foorish prince sped after he had
learned bird-language :

The Young Pr-ince and his ]J'eathe1"ecl FTiencls.


Prince Ahmed, in consequence of the prediction of astrologers,
that he was in clanger fronl love until he canIe of ll1ature years, was
placed in seclusion and not allowed to see any vvonlan. His tntor,
for his anlusen1ent, instructed hin1 in the language of birds, and the
first feathered acquaintance he Illade ,vas a hawk, ,vho, he soon finds,
is a nlere pirate of the air, swaggering und boastful, 'whose talk ,vas
all about rapine and carnage and desperate exploits. He next
became acquainted with an o\v], a nlighty wise-looking bird with a
huge head and staring eyes, who sat blinking and goggling all clay in
a hole 'in the ,vall and roamed forth at night. He had great
Lang1.la,ge of Anim,als. 357

tensions to ,visdo111, talked sOlnething of astrology and the moon, and


hinted at the dark sciences; but the prince found his prosing nlore
tedious than even that of his olel tutor. Then he had sonle talk
,vitll a bat, that hung all day by his heels in a dark corner of a vault,
and sallied out in slip-shod style at night. But he had mere t,vilight
iueas on all subjects, and seellled to take delight in nothing. And
then the young prince fornled acquaintance ,vith a swallo,v, who ,vas
a smart talker, restless, bustling, ever on the wing, seldonl remaining
long enough for any continued conversation; and he turned out to be
a 111ere smatterel', ,vho only skinlnled over the surface of everything,
knowing nothing thoroughly.
Spring COlnes round once 1110re, and with it the pairing of birds
and nest-building. every side the prince hears the same
thenle-Iove-love-Iove-chanted forth and responded to in every
variety of Hote and tone. He listened in perplexity. "What can
this love be," thought he, " of ,vhich the world seenlS to be so full,
and of which I kno\v nothing lIe applied for infornlation to the
ha,vk. ruffian bird answered in a tone of scorn, "You must
apply to the vulgar peaceable birds of earth, who are nlade for the
prey of us princes of the air. l\fy trade is ,var, and fighting is my
delight. I kno\v nothing of this thing called love." "Then he
applied to the owl that bird said, "1YIy time i$ taken up in study
and reflection. I am a philosopher, and know nothing of love."
The bat said that he vvas a nlisanthrope. And the svvallo,v had too
nluch husiness to attend to for hiln to think of love. Then the
prince inquires of his old tutor, "What is the thing called love "
The horrified sage replied, "0 Prince, close thy nlind against such
dangerous kno\vledge ! Kno'v that this love is the cause of half the
ills of \vretched mortality. It is this \vhich produces bitterness and
strife between brethren and friends; which causes treacherous 11lurder
and devastating war. Care and sorrow, ,veal'y days and sleepless
nights, are its attendants. It \vithers the bloom and blights the joy
of youth, and brings on the ills and griefs of prenlature old age.
Allah preserve thee, n1Y Prince, in total ignorance of this thing called
love! " One day after this the prince heard a nightingale chanting
his ,vonted thenle. As he ,vas listening and sighing there was a
358 Magical in the Tale.
sudden rushing noise in the air: a beautiful dove, pursued by a
hawk, darted in at the open ,vindo\v, and fell panting on the floor,
'while the pursuer, balked of his prey, soared off to the mountains.
The prince took up the gasping bird, s11100thed its feathers and
nestled it in his boso1n. l'hen he placed it in a golden cage. Fronl
the dove he learns all he wishes to kno'v about the thing called love,
and becomes desperately enall10ured of a beautiful princess from the
dove's glo\ving description of her charllls. The dove conveys a letter
fronl the prince to the lovely princess, in "rhich he confessed his
affection for her, and returns ,vith her favourable answer. Then the
.prince escapes irolll the tOVirer by night, and with the help of a parrot
wins his lady love. 1

Birds are often represented in folk-tales as having the po,ver of


vaticination, and their predictions' are always fulfilled, a notable
exanlple of which been long current in Europe, through the
medireval collection conlmonly called the History of the Seven Wise
Masters of The foHowing is a Russian oral version" fronl
M. Leger's French collection, ,vhich differs in some of the details
from 'the ordinary form of the story :

The Bi1'd's Prediction: The Ravens' DislJute.


In a certain town there d vyelt a nlerchant and his wife. They
had a son, nallled Basil, who was very clever for his years. One
day, while they ,vere seated at dinner, a nightingale in its cage sang
with so InonrnfuI a voice that the l11erchant, quite overCOllle, said:
" If I could find a n1an clever enough to tellIne what the nightingale
sings, and what fate he predicts, I would in truth give him half of
my wealth, and after nlY death I 'would leave hilll a cbnsidera1le
sum." The child, who was then only six years of age, looked
seriously at his father and nlother and said: "I knovv what the
nightingale sings, but I am afraid to tell." "Tell it, ,vithout
1 Irving's Tales of the Alharnbra: "Prince Ahmed al-Kemal; or, the Pilgrinl
of Love"; which I have abridged considerably, omitting the Prince's subsequent
adventures and eXliloits for the sake of his fair enslaver, "er that he might hl1'
wynne," as being foreign to our purpose.
of A nin1cds. 259

cried they both at once. 'fhe child, \vith tears in his


eyes, then told thenl: "The nightingale annonnces that a tiule \vill
corne when you \vill serve me; 11ly father \vill pour out ,vater for me,
and 111y Inother will hand lue .the to\vel." l"hese ,vords irritated the
ll1erchant and his wife very nluch, and they resolved to get rid of the
They ulade a little boat, placed the child in it \vhen he was
asleep, and took the boat to the sea. At the very Ulonlent the sooth-
saying nightingale fle\v fronl his cage, followed the boat, and perched
upon the child's shoulder.
The boat was borne along the sea, and soon canle in the 'vay of a
ship under full sail. The pilot saw the child, pitied and rescued
hiIn, learned his story, and pronlised to love an:d guard him as his
o\vn son. Next day the child said to his adoptive father: "The
nightingale predicts a tenlpest \vhich \vill break our nlasts and tear
our sails. We should return to port." The captain \vould not
listen; the storul arose, broke the masts and tore the sails. 'Vhat
could they do vVhat is done, is done! They repaired the 111asts
and proceeded on the voyage. Again Basil said: " My Ilightingale
sings that ,ve are about to meet t\velve pirate-ships, \vhich will take
us all prisoners." This tinle the captain believed hin1, and touched
at an island, froIn \vhence he clearly sa\v the twelve vessels pass by.
lIe ,vaited as long as ,vas necessary and then resumed his voyage.
At the end of some time they canle in sight of Choalinsk. N O\V
the king of that city was much annoyed by a pair of ravens and
their little one, which, for several years, flew and croaked before the
windo,vs of the palace, "\vithout giving him rest day or night. What
had not been tried Everything had been done to drive them a,vay,
but all ,vas in vain. At every cross-road the king had caused a
notice to be put up, ,vhich ran as follo\vs: "To hinl ,vho succeeds in
driving a,vay the ravens from the royal,vindo\vs the king ,vill give
in re\vard the half of his kingdom and his youngest daughter.
Whoever undertakes the affair and fails shall lose his head." }\1:any
had atteu1pted it, and all had given up their heads to the axe.
Basil had heard of this notice, and asked permission of the captain
to go to the king, to drive a,vay the ravens. The captain renl011-
strated \vith him in vain; he would not desist. "Go, then," said
300 JIIIagical ]tJle1nents in the Sq1-lire's Tale.
the captain to hinl; "if 11lisfortune thee, thou hast only
thyself to b1an1e."
J3asil arrived at the palace, spoke to the king, and desired the
\vindow near which the rave·ns fie,v to be opened. lIe listened to
the cry of the bird, and then said: "Sire, you kno\v that there are
here three ravens, the father, the wife, and the little one. N o'v the
father and the 1110ther dispute as to which of them the son belongs,
to the father or to the 1110ther, anti they beg you to decide. Sire,
condescend to say to ,vhich of thelll the little one belongs." " To
the father," replied the king. Scarcely had the words been uttered
,vhen the father and the little one fie\v off to the right and the
fenlale to the left. 1'he king took the child ,vith hin1, and loaded
hinl ,,,ith favours and honours. He gre,Y up and becanle a fine
young nlan ; 111arried the king's daughter, and obtained the half of
llis kingdolu. One day he took a llotion to travel in various COUll-
tries, to see the inhabitants. He rested for a night in a certain
to,vn. On the 11101'ro,v, \vhen he rose, he called for \vater to ,vash.
'fho n1aster brought 'water and the l11istress a to\vel. lIe talked ,,,ith
then1) and recognized then1: they were his father and n10the1'. lIe
,vept ,vith joy, and threw hinlself at their feet. Then he led the111
a\vay ·with hill1 to Choalinsk, \vhere they all lived happily
together. 1
In our English versions of the Seven l'Vise kIasters the cause of
the ravens' dispute is that during a thne of scarcity the lnalo bird
had driven his l11ate a,vay, and she had been fed and supported by
tlle younger n1ale raven (here there is no "little one "); but 1l0\V the
older male bird had returned to clairn his mate, ,vho ,vould have
none of hilTI, but elected th:J other, ,,,ho had befriended her in
a<lversity. The king rules that the older male bird should depart
and tronble the happy pair no 11101'e.
Although this tale is found in all the European texts of the Seven
lVise )yfasters, it does not occur in any of the Eastern versions of its
prototype, the Book of Sindibad; but that it is, partly at least, of
Asiatic extraction seenlS evident from the fact that the birds' dispute
1 llec1wil de GOlltes popnlaires Slaves, traduits sur les textes originaux, l)ar
Louis LegeI'; Paris., 1882; No. xxxi.
of AninLals. 361
iR found in a Bengal{ folk-tale, the first part of vvhich I have abridged
as follows:

1.'lte Fool and the Disputing BiT'ds.

The prilue nlinister of a raja took into his 'service a poor fool \VhOnl
he found sitting by the side of a village road. Sonle tinle after this,
a pair of birds had built their nest in the ll1inister's garden, and
one day the hen sa\v another hen ,valking about '\vith her ll1ate.
She said angrily, "Leave her alone." l'he cock said, "Both of you
can be my \vives and live ,vith me." The hen diu not approve of
this; and a great dispute arose, and at last all three \vent before the
raja to have the matter settled, and \vhen the court \vas closed they
flew a\vay. l'hus they continued to come and go for t,vo or three
days, and then the raja asked the minister \vhat vvas the reason of
their coming. lIe replied, that he had not the least idea. The
raja said, "If you can tellIne to-IDOl'rO\V, good; if not, I 'will cut off
your head." The Ininister ,vent into his garden, and sat thinking,
\vith his head between his hands. The fool, seeing his nlaster's
dejected appearance, asked ,vhy he ,vas so distressed; but he
uns\vered nothing, till the fool continued to ask hilll in such a
dctCl'111ined \vay that he could not help telling hilll the royal corn-
Inand. "Is this the reason you are so distressed said the fool.
"I understand \vhat the birds arc saying." And then he told his
lllastel' the \vhole story of their quarrel, adding, "If the raja decides
that both the hens shall continue to live \vith the cock, then sho\v
t\VQ fingers, and they ,vill fly a\vay; but if it be decided that he is
only to live 'with his \vife, then sho\v one finger, and one bird \vill
iuul1ediately fly a\vay, and a little tinle after the pair of birds "rill
fly together." The minister was delighted to hear all this, and next
day ,vent early to the durbar, and found that the birds ,vere already
cOlne, and ,vere sitting there. The raja said, "To-day the case of
the birds \vill be tried. "That is their cOlllplaint 1" Then the
11linister told hiln 'what he had heard froIn the 1110Uth of the fool,
and he ,vas luuch astonished, and decided that the cock should have
but one wife. So the nlinister held up one finger, and il1l1nediately
one of the birds fle\v a\vay, and a short tiU1C after the two others
362 Magical in the Tale.

,vent off together. The case being, thus decided, the court ,vas
closed, and the raja thought the nlinister's conduct praiseworthy.!

Whether or not it is to a nlan's advantage to have the precise


time of his d8ath predicted to a certainty is a question on both sides
of ,vhich a good deal might be said, and, after all, ,ve should perhaps
be " no forrarder"; so I'll not ,vaste tin18 in discussing it, but leave
the reader to judge for hilllSelf, froll1 the following sOllle,vhat singular
story:
The Orow' 8 Prediction.
'Umnlayah ibn Abu es-Salat was the poet of poets alnongst the
Arabs, but, though often in the cOlllpany of the Prophet, 'he did not
elubrace the blessed religion of 181<1,111. His death ,vas very remark-
able. One day he took a cup in his hand, and as he was about to
drink its contents, he heard the voice of a crow proceeding from a
corner of the rOOln in which he ·was ,vith SOlnc friends. He replied
to the crow, '·'Vaf6k et-turab!" ("To the earth ,vith you!")
Again the crow spoke, and again he answered as before. Those
present now asked him, "0 learned soothsayer, ,vhat have you
understood from the voice of the cro,v " "It said," replied
'Ulnmayah, '" Kno,v that in the same hour in which you drink of
the cup in your hand you ,vill die'; to ,vhich I answered, 'To the
earth ,vith you!' l'he second time it said, 'If you ,vish a proof of
,vhat I say, I will fly fronl here and perch upon the mound opposite,
feed there on sonlething, and die, in" consequence of a bone sticking
in nlY throat. You will then drink of the cup in your hand, and
die inllllediately.' " As he said this, the crow flew and alighted on
the mound, where, after scratching two or three thues, it fell do"\vn
and expired. 'Unl111ayah now exclaimed, "Behold, the crow's
have been verified! I will therefore drink of the cup in nlY
hand, and you will see what ensues." The moment he drank of the
cup he fell do·wn and delivered up his sonl. 2
1 Indian Antiqu,ary, 1874, vol. iii., p. 320: "BengaH Folk-Lore," by G. H.
Damant.
2 Frorn a Turkish collection entitled, 'A}a'ib el-1na'dsir ghard'ib el-na-
u'ddiIJ' (Wonde:s of Remarkable Events and Rarities of Anecdotes), by Aluned
of 363

" Kno,vledge is power"; and ,ve have seen a goodly nnnlber of


instances showing that a knowledge of the speech of anitnals is a
very great po\ver to the heroes of folk-tales. In the follo\ving version
of a ,vell-kno\vn story (from COlupare'tti's Novelline popolare italiane,
No. 56)-\vhich is not very relnotely related to the Bird's
-ante, p. 358-the hero is largely indebted to luck (or predestina-
tion) for his subsequent good fortune:

The Th1'ee Ani1nal Languages.


A father once had a son who spent ten years in school. At the
end of that time the teacher wrote the father to take away his son,
because he could not teach hinl anything more. The father took
the boy h0111e and gave a grand banquet in his honour, to \vhich he
invited the most ,noble gentlemen of the country. After nlany
speeches by those gentlenlen, one of the guests said to the host's
son, "Just tell us some fine thing you have learned." "I have
learned the language of dogs, of frogs, and of birds." There ,vas
universal laughter on hearing this, and all ,vent a\vay ridiculing the
pride of the father and the foolishness of the son. The father "ras
so ashalned at his son's answer and so angry at him that he gave
hinl up to two servants, with orders to take him into a ,vood and kill
him and bring back his heart. The two servants did not dare to
obey this conlnland, and instead of the lad they killed a dog, alid
carried its heart to their Inaster. The youth fled from the country
and came to a castle a long way off, "There lived the treasurer of
the prince, who had imnlense treasures. There he asked for and
obtained a lodging, but scarcely had he entered the house when a
l11ultitude of dogs collected about the castle. The treasurer asked
the young nlan ,vhy so nlany dogs had come, and as the youth
understood their language he answered that it meant that a hundred
assassins would attack the castle that very evening, and that the
treasurer should t3ke his. precautions. The castellan made two
hundred soldiers place themselves in ambush about the castle, and

ibn Hemdem, Khetkhoda, in the tinle of Murad, the fourth Ottonlan sultan
(A. D. 1623-1640); translated by J. P. Brown, under the title of T'l(/rkish
Evening Entertainnwnts, New York, 1850; ch. xxiii.
364 JJfagical Ele?nents in the Tale.
at night they arrested the assassins. The treasurer was so grateful
to the youth that he wished to give hilu his daughter, but he replied
that he could not relllain no,\y, but he ,vould return ,vithin a year
and three days.
After he left that castle he arrived at a city,vhere the king's
daughter was very ill, because the frogs which ,vere in a fountain
near the palace gave her no rest \vith their croaking. The lad per-
ceived that the frogs croaked because the princess had thro'wn a
cross into the fountain, and as soon as it was renloved the girl
recovered. The king, too, wished the lad to nlarry her, but he again
said that he ,vould return ,vithin a year and three days.
On leaving the king he set out for ROlue, and on the ,vay he nlet
three young men, ,vho becanle his conlpanions. One day it ,vas very
warlU, and all four lay down to sleep under an oak. Presently a
great flock of birds fle\v into the oak and a,vakened the piIgrin1s
by their loud singing. One of thenl asked, ""Vhy are these birds
singing so joyfully The youth ans,verec1, "They are rejoicing
,vith the new })ope, ,yha is to be one of us." And suddenly a dove
alighted on his head, and in truth shortly after 11e was Illade Pope. 1
l'hen he sent for his father, the treasurer, and the king. All pre-
sented .thell1selves trenlbling, for they feared they had COllll1litted
SOlue very heinous sin. Rn t the Pope n1ade thenl all relate their
histories, and then turned to his father and said, "I anl the son
'vhorn you sent to be killed because I said I understood the language
of birds, of dogs, and of frogs. You have treated 111e thus, and on
the other hand a treasurer and. a king :Gave been very grateful for
this knowledge of mine." The father repented his fault, and his
son pardoned hilll and kept hinl with hinl vvhile he lived. 2

1 There is some obscurity here: as the hero was a mere youth, how could he
be "shortly after Inade Pope" The incident of the dove alighting on his head
recalls-and is probably connected with-the custonl Inentionec1 in nlany Indian
stories of people sending the late king's elephant and a bird out of the city, and
the person the bird alighted on, and the elephant at the san18 tilne took up with
his trunk and placed on his back, was chosen as king: the bird does not occur
often in such tales.
2 Italian Tales, pp. 161-3.-1n the German version (Grhnnl,
No. 33, "Die drei Sprachen ") the youth is sent to school three successive terms,
during each of which he learns an aniInal.language. The old tower of the castle
.lan(fllage of Ani-lnals. 365

Every schoolboy kno\vs-or ought to ]nlo,v-the story in the


introductory part of the Arabian Nights, entitled in our conUllon
English version, "The Labourer, the Ox, and the Ass" ; but E. \V.
Lane's 11101'e accurate translation of it Inay find a place here, so that
our tales of aniInul-language Inay be the nlore representative:

The Merchant, the Bull, and Ass.


There ,vas a nlerchant ,vho possessed wealth and cattle, and had
a wife and children; and God, ,vhose nanle be exalted, had also
endowed hinl with the knowledge of the languages of beasts and
birds. The abode of this merchant ,vas in the country, and he had
in his house an ass and a bull. When the bull came to the place
,vhere the ass was tied he found it s\vept and sprinkled; in his
111anger were sifted barley and sifted cut stra\v, and the ass was
lying at his ease, his Inaster being accustoll1ed only to ride him
occasionally, when business required, and soon to return. And it
happened one day that the overheard the bull saying to
the ass, "May thy food benefit thee! I anl oppressed ,vith fatigue,
while thou art enjoying repose; thou eatest sifted barley, and n1en
serve thee, and it is only occasionally that thy nlaster rides thee and
returns soou, while I aUl continually enlployed in ploughing and
tnrning the n1ilI." The ass answered, " vVhen thou goest out to the
field, and they place the yoke upon thy neck, lie dovvn, and do not
rise again, even if they beat thee; or if thou rise, lie do'wl1 a second
tin1e; and ,vhen they take thee back and place the beans before
thee, eat thenl not, as though thou 'vert sick. Abstain fronl eating
and drinking for tViO days or three, and so shalt thou find rest from
trouble and labour."
Accordingly, when the driver calue to the bull 'with his fodder,
he ate scarcely any of it, and on the 1110rrO\V, ,vhen the driver came
to take him to the plough, he found him apparently quite infirln.
So the merchant said, "Take the ass and 111Ake hinl draw the plongh
is full of wild dogs, who bark and howl all night. lIe gets meat for then1.
Next Illorning he says the dogs are bewitched and obliged to watch a great
treasure below the tower.-rrhe story is also found in Hahn's Greek and
Albanian collection, No. 33; BasqlMJ Legends, p. 137; and lVlel'ltsine, vole i.
p.300.
366 Magical Elelnents in the sTale.
in his stead all day." The man did so; and when the ass returned
at the close of the day, the bull thanked hilll for the favour he had
conferred upon him, by relieving hinl of his trouble on that day; but
the ass returned him no ansvver, for he repented most grievously.
On the -next day the ploughn1an came again and took the ass and
ploughed with him till evening; and the ass, ,vith his neck flayed
by the yoke, ,vas reduced to a state of extreme weakness; and the
bull looked on hin1, and thanked hinl and praised hiln. The ass
exclaiIned, "I ,vas living at ease, and nought but nlY nleddling
hath inj ured nle." Then said he to the bull, "Kno'v that I an1 one
,vho ',,"ould give thee good advice. I heard our master say, 'If the
bull rise not from his place, take him to the butcher, that he lllay
kill him and make a nata [eating-cloth] of his skin.' I anl therefore
in fear for thee, and so I have given thee advice, alld peace be on
thee." vVhen the bull heard these words of the ass, he thanked
hin1 and said, "To-1110rrow I will go ,vith alacrity." So he ate the
,vhole of his fodder, and even licked the lllanger.
On the follo\ving 1110rning the 111erchant a11d his ,vife vvent to the
bull's crib, and sat do\vn there; and the driver ca111e and took out
the bull; and ,vhen the bull saw his nlaster he shook his tail, and
showed his alacrity by sounds and actions, bounding about in such
a manner that the merchant laughed until he fell hackwal'ds. His
v:ife in surprise asked hinl, "At "W hat dost thou laugh " lIe
ansvvered, "At a thing that I have heard and seen, but I cannot
reveal it, for if I did, I should die." 1 She said, "l'hou n1ust
infornl 111e the cause of thy laughtc·r, even if thou die." "I cannot
reveal it," said he; "the fear of death prevents me." "Thou didst
laugh only at IJne," she said; and she ceased not to urge and
importune him until he was quite overconle and distracted. So he
called together his children, and sent for the kazl [judge] and
witnesses, that he! might make his will and reveal the secret to her
and die; for he loved her excessively, since she vvas the daughter of

1 This is the first intimation we have of the condition under which tIle
Inerchant (he is more like a farmer) was taught the language of anill1als; but in
a variant which follows, it is stated that death was the penalty for revealing the
conversation of birds or beasts.
of Ani1Juxls. 367

his paternal uncle, and the 1110ther of his children, and had lived
,vith her to the age of a hundred and twenty years. Having
assemhled his faulily and neighbours, he related to then1 his story,
and told them that as soon as he revealed his secret he must die;
upon which everyone present said to his \vife, "'Ve conjure thee,
by Allah, that thou give up this affair, and let not thy husband and
the father of thy children die." But she said, "I will not desist
until he tell 111e, though he die for it." So they ceased to solicit
her, and the merchant left them and ,vent to the stable to perforn1
the ablution, and then to return and tell the secret to his ,vife.
N O\V he had a cock, \vith fifty hens under him, and he had also
a dog, and he heard the dog call to the cock and rerroach hinl,
saying,. "Art thou happy \vhen our n1aster is about to die 1" The
cock said, " Ho'v so 1" and the clog related to hin1 the story, upon
'v hich the cock exc]ailned, " By .A.llah! our nlaster has little sense!
I have fifty ,vives, and I please this and provoke that one; ,vhile he
has but one wife, and cannot l11anage this affair with 11er! Why
does he not take some t\yigs of the and euter her
chanlber and beat her until she dies or repents She \vould never
after that usk hinl a question respecting anything." And ,vhen the
merchant heard the ,yords of the cock, as he addressed the dog, he
recovered his reason and nlade up his 111ind to beat her. He entered
her chamber, after he had cut off S0111e twigs of the mulberry-tree
and hidden them there, and then said to her, "00111e into the
chamber, that I nlay tell thee the secret ,vhile no one hears TIle, and
then die." And ,vhen she entered he locked the chan1ber door upon
her, and beat her until she becanle ahl10st senseless, and cried out,
"I repent"; and she kissed his hands and his feet, and repented
and ,vent out ,vith hinl; and all the C0111pany and her own fanlily
rejoiced; and they lived together in the happiest 111anner until death.!

1 This story is also found in two Italian colloctions, viz.: Straparola's


Piacevoli .L\;otti, xii. 3, and Pitre's Fiabe, Novelle, e Racconti, No. 282; also in
J. Pauli's Schi1npj 'ltncl E1'1U5t, No. 134: "Ein bosz weib tugenhaft zemachell."
It is dou btless one of the many tales of Eastern origin which were brought to
Italy by Venetian merchants who traded in the Levant in the 14th and 15th
centnries.-The SalTIe story also occurs in JOl1es and Kropf's Folk· Tales of the
Magya1's, p. 301, where a donkey" had said sOlnething that Inade hiln slnlle."
B 13
368 Magical in the Tale.
I am of opinion that the foregoing diYerting tale is not of
Arabian but of Indian invention; and I have a strong inlpression
that, some years since, I luet ,vith a very similar story in a Hindu
collection, son1e ants ,vere conversing beneath the bed on
,vhich a prince and his ,bride lay; the prince understood their
language and laughed, upon \vhich his wife urged hiln to tell her
what the ants said ;-but this is all that I can recollect of the story,
nor can I call to Inind the title of the book ,vhere it may be found.-
There is an interesting Bulgarian variant, in M. Leger's French
collection of Slav Tales, No. XI., ,vhich lvill probahly be quite new
to most English readers :

The Shepherd who lea1"ned the Language of Ani1J1als.


A certain lllan had a shepherd,' \vha had long served him faith-
fully. One day the shepherd heard a hissing sound, and discovered
a serpent surrounded by fIaInes in a dry wood ,yhich ,vas on fire, and
'vhile he was watching to see ho\v the poor creature ,vould escape
the serpent exclainled, " Shepherd, I pray thee, do a good turn and
take 111e out of these fIalnes." The shepherd pulled hin1 out with
his stick, upon ,vhich the serpent coiled himself round the body of
his deliverer. " Wretch! " cries the shepherd, in lllortal terror, "is it
thus you thank lue for saving you l'hey say truly, 'Do good, and
you will find eviL'" But the serpent is far front ullgrilteful: he
bids the shepherd oarry him to his father, who is I\:ing of the
Serpents, which he does accordingly, and arriving at the serpent-
king's abode finds the door consists of a ,veb of snakes; the rescued
serpent hisses, and the web of snakes is drawn aside, and as the
shepherd enters the serpent advises hhn to accept of no l'e\vard but
knowledge of the language of birds and beasts. At first the king of
the serpents refuses, because the shepherd ,vould at once die if he
boasted of this knowledge; but, yielding at length to his ilnpor-
tUllity, the serpent-king and the shepherd spit on each other's lips
three tinles, and the shepherd takes his leave.
On his way honle he found that he could perfectly understand
every 'word said by birds in the trees and insects in the graBS.
'When he comes to his flock he hears t,YO ravens conversing on a
Lctnguage of Anirrnals. 369
tree: "If that shepherd kne\v there is a enornlOUS quantity of gold
and silver in the cave near ,vhich his black lamb lies, he \vould soon
take it away." He tells his 111aster of this; the treasure is found,
sure enough, and given by the nlaster to his faithful shepherd, who
forth ,vith builds a fine mansion and nlarries. lIe soon beCOIIles very
"vealthy, with many cattle and sheep. One day he gives his servants
a grand feast, and tells thenl to enjoy themselves, for he will himself
look after the flocks and herds during the night. Some "volves conle
and say to the dogs that they ,vish a sheep to eat. The dogs reply,
"Go on, and tal{e one; we'll feast ,vith you." An aged dog, ,vith
only t,vo teeth left, says, " long as I've got a tooth in. lIly head
you shall not steal my nlaster's property." The next day the man
caused all the dogs, save the old one, to be killed, not\vithstanding
the intercession of his servants, nor "vonld he give the reason for so
doing.
l"he man and ·his wife set out on a journey one day-he on a
horse, she on a mare. Passing the nlure, the horse says, "COl1le on
faster-wIlY are you lagging behind The mare ans\vers, "It's
very easy for you to speak so ;-you carry but one, ,vhile I carry
three: my ll1istress, the child at her breast, and a foal within me."
The Inan laughs, and his wife asks the reason;· he tries to put her
, off, but she insists on kno,ving; and then he tells her that he must
die if he should reveal the secret. She cOlltinnes to press hilIl more
and nlore, till at length he consents, but it nlust be told at home.
So they turn back, and, arrived at his house, he causes a grave to be
dug, and lying do\vn in it, tells his wife he is going to disclcse
secret and die. Just then the old dog COlnes up, and the nlan bids
his 'wife give the poor brute a bit of bread, which she does, but the
dog \von't eat it-he only nloans and ,veeps. Presently the cock
CODles and begins to peck at the bread. Says the dog, "vVhy do
you eat Here's our good Inaster going to die!" " Let hinl die,"
ans\vers the cock, "since he is snch a Look at 111e: I've a
hundred 'v ives, and when I find a grain of millet, I call thenl all,
and then I s\vallow the grain. If Olle of thenl takes offence, I thrash
her till she lo,vers her tail. This luan has only one, and can't take
her do\vn a single peg! " On hearing this conversation, the Inaster
B II 2
Magical Ele1nents in the Tale.
leaped out of the grave, grasped a cudgel and so belaboured his \vife
that she never after·wards dared to ask him why he laughed.

Did the originally have a "moral" tagged on to it 1 or \vas


it supposed to be of itself sufficiently clear as to its in1port to render
any explanation of it needless I am disposed to think that the
prinlitive fables had no " lllorals" appended, although the Bnddhist
and Hindu beast-fables arc each invariably prefaced with a 1110ral
sentence, or couplet,which the apologue is supposed to enforce or
illustrate, and the same maxim is repeated at the end-just as a
Scotch parson often clinches his Sel'nlOn \vith a repetition (accom-
panied \vith pulpit-thumping) of his text-the usual forn1ula being,
"therefore I say," and so on. ,To this innovation-as I cannot but
consider it to be-are doubtless due the wire-dra\vn H 1110rals" that
\vere in luedireval times tagged on to fables. Now it seems to me
that the very ainl and object of the Fable is to dispense with a
didactic discourse: to bring fi truth hon1e to the minds of the
hearers by nJeans of a short, pithy narrative, full of interest, in
which beasts or birds are the chief or only characters, and in \vhose
sayings and doings lies the lesson desired to be inculcated. In its
si111plest, and therefore its prin1itive, forn1, the Fable stands in need
of no explanation or conl111entary. Take, for examples, the delightful
apologue of the nlice who "'ould hang a bell to the eat's neck; the
Dog and his Shado\v; the VV 01£ and the Lanlb; the .Ass in the
Lion's skin; and nlany others, fanliliar froIn our nursery Jays: do
they not carry each their o"Vvn "1l10ral " There is, hovvever, SOlne·
"\Jvhat to be sai(l in favour of the theory that beast-fables were
enlployed, if not actually designed in the first instance, as safe
vehicles of ad vice or reproof to despotic princes; and it is said that
a king was once turned frOlll the evil of his "\vays by a cunningly
devised fable related by his minister, who pretended to know bircl-
language:
The Oonfab. of the Owls.
Sultan l\fahmlld [of GhazniJ 1 had a vazir called Ayaz. One
day a dervish came to Ayf1z and said, "For the love of God, get
1 l\ial1111lld, son of Sabaktagan, ruled from A.D. 997 till 1030. It was at his
request that Firdausi, the 11011101' of Persia, composed his grand epic, the Shdh
of 371
s0111ewhat for nle fronl the king." Ayltz answered, "To-nlorrow the
king is to go to the chase. Do thou conle before the king, and pray,
and say, '0 king, I kno,v the language of birds.' If the king ask
111e, I shall answer and get some\vhat for thee fron1 the king." So
on the nlorrow the dervish did so. Ayaz ,vas by the king's side,
and he said, "0 king, give nle this dervish, that I may learn the
language of birds." The king ans,vered, "l'ake him; let hiln bide
,vith thee." Ayaz said, "0 king, give this dervish S0111e little
thing, till thy slave learn the langunge of birds." So the king gave
the dervish a daily allo,vance of a gold sequin. For a tinIe the
dervish abode ,vith Ayaz, and after that Ayaz ,vent before the king,
and said, "0 king, I have learned the language of birds from the
dervish." .A.nd he caused them to give the dervish nIuch ,vealth, and
the dervish ,vent a,vay.
One day Sultan Mahnlud went to the chase vvith Ayaz. ",Vhile
on the road the king saw that there ,vere t,YO trees gro,ving one on
either side of the ,vay, and upon each an o'vI \vas perched, and
theRe ,yere screauIing across to each other. The king said to Ayaz,
"Thon sayest thou dost know the language of birds. vVhat are
these birds saying 1 Listen, and tell me." Ayaz listened for a little
,vhile, and then "0 king, this bird has a son, and this other
has a daughter; and this one wants the other's daughter for his son;
and the other ,vants 500 ruined villages and towns as dower for
his daughter. And this one ans,vers, 'What are 500 villages, since
Sultan Malulll1d is king over this clime If thou wish 1000, I shall
give thee thenI.'" Sultan ]\{ahunld heard this ans\ver froul Ayaz,
and said, "Am I such a tyrant that in 111y tinle to,vns and villages
are ruined 1" And he straightway ordered that they restored all the
ruined towns and villages in the country. So by reason of that
untruth he set about acting ,vith justice; and now whenever his
11ftlne is called they say, "The mercy of Gael upon him! " 1

Ndma, or Book of lCings. He figures prOluinently in many ludo-Persian


popular tales.
1 Hi-sto1'Y of the pbrty Vez[rs, translated from the Turkish by E. J. W. Gibb,
London, 1886, p. 144.-This story is of Arabian extraction, and occurs in the
Thousancl and one llights, and another Arabic work.
372 Magical Elel1te'nts in the A.'{qrnire's Tale.

WE have now arrived at the fOUl-;th·, and last, gift of the Indian
king to his Tartar "brother"-the S\vord, ,vhich, by the way, ,vas
without a sheath; perchance, because such a keen blade would ,year
out any scabbard. Its marvellous qualities are thus set forth by the
ambassador:
"This naked swerd, tllat hangeth by 111y side,
Such vertu hath, that what man that it srnyte,
'rhurghout his arnHU it wol kerve and byte,
Were it as thikke as is a braunched ook ;
And what man is i-wounded with the strook
Sehal never be hool, till that you lust of grace
'ro strok hinl with the plat in thilke place
Ther he is hurt; this is as moche to seyn,
Ye moote with the platte swerd agein
Stroke him in the wound, and it wol close;-
'rhis is the verray soth withouten glose,
It failleth nought, whi! it is in your hold."
'fhe people, ,vho vvere eagerly interchanging ideas regarding the ,von-
derful presents ,vhich their king had just received at the hands of
the Indian knight, in discussing the qualities of the Sword-
fel in speche of Telophos the kyng,
And of Achilles for his queynte 1 spere,
For he couthe 2 with it bothe hele and dere. z
" Telephus, the son of Hercules and A uge, was ,vounded by Achilles
with his spear, and healed by the applic;1tion of SOl1le rust fronl
the saIue weapon. Petronius, in his epigranl, De exactly
describes the qualities of Canlbyuskan's nlagic sword-
"Unde datum est vulnus, contigit inde salus."
A sonlevvhat sill1i1ar s\vord was possessed by a giant in a N orso
tale-" whoever is touched with its point dies instantly; but if he
is touehed with the hilt he inl111ediately returns to life."4 And in
another Norse tale a ,vitch gives the hero a sword, one edge of \vhich
was black, the other ,vhite; and if he snlote a foe vvith the black
edge he fell dead in a nlonlent, but by striking hill1 ,vith the ·white
edge the deacllnan as quickly rose up alive. 5
1 Q'lLcynte = cunningly-devised. 2 Gouthe = could. 3 Dere = hann.
4 Thorpe's YtfJlc-l'ide Storie8 (Bohn's ed., 1853), p. 162.
5 Dasent's Talesf1>01n the Field: "Master 'robacco."
Magic Swo1"ds and Spears. 373
. A still nlore \Yonderful sword occurs in a folk-tale from Western
India, in whieh the hero discovers hhnself in a submarine palace;
a lovely daulsel is lying upon a golden bedstead, her head severed
frOll1 her body and laid on a pillo'v by her side, the life-blood

trickling from her throat, each drop as it falls turning into a mag-
nificent ruby. He conceals himself. Presently a giant-the girl's
father-comes home; he puts the girl's head on her neck, then takes
a sword that was lying beside her, and strokes up and down with
the blade the place \vhere the neck had been severed, whereupon the
girl awakes. In the nlorning before the giant goes ont, he takes the
same sword and cuts off the girl's head again, placing it on the pillow
beside her, along \vith the sword. While the giant is away, the hero
"rith the sword ?rings back the danlsel to life, and they escape to the
upper ,vorld. 1
Reginald Scot, quoting L. Varius, says of ,vitches that they
"can remeJie anie stranger, and him that is absent, with that very
s\vord ,vherewith they are \younded. Yea, and that which is beyond
all adrrliration, if they stroke the sword upwards ,vith their fingers
the partie shall feele no paine; ,vhereas if they drawe their fingers
do,vne,vards thereupon, the partie \vounded shall feele intolerable
paine."2 It was also a magical practice to anoint the weapon
had caused a serious wound, and thus, as it was fondly believed,
effect a cure by " sympathy." Sir WaIter Scott introduces this in
his Lay oj the Last Minstrel, iii. 23:
But she has ta'en the broken lance,
And washed it froln the clotted gore,
And salved the splinter o'er and o'er.
'Villiam of Deloraine, in trance,
Whene'er she turned it round and round,
Twisted, as if she galled the wound.
Then to her maidens she did say,
That he should be whole man and sound
Within the course of a night and day.

Scott, in a note to this passage, gives a long extract from a dis-


course on cure by sympathy, pronounced hy Sir Kenelrn Digby at

1 Indian Antiq1.bar;·y, July 1887, p. 110.


2 The Discotwrie of Witchcraft, by Reginald Scot, 1584, p. 283.
374 ltfagical Ele?rl.ents in the Tale.
1\fontpelier, before an assenlbly of nobles and learned men, which was
translated into English by R. White, Gent., and published in 1658,
and in which he relates how he cured one Mr. Jalnes Ho,vel, who
had been severely wounded in the hand by endeavouring to part
t,vo gentlemen, his friends, who were fighting with svvords: Hovvel's
\yound had been bound up with his garter on the spot. Some days
after, Rowel canle to Digby and asked him to look at his wound, as
he had heard of the reinarkable renledies he possessed.
"I asked hinl," continues Digby, "for anything that had the
blood .11pon it., so he presently sent for his garter, ·where"with his hand
\vas first bound; and as I called for a bason of water, as if I vvould
wash my hands, I took a handful of powder of vitriol, which I had
in lily study, and presently dissolved it. As soon as the bloody
garter was brought lue, I put it within the bason, observing in the
interim what Mr. Rowel did, who still stood talking vvith a gentle-
man in a corner of my chanlber, not regarding at all what I ,vas
doing; but he started suddenly, as if he had found S0111e strange
alteration in hinlself. I asked hill1 what he ailed. 'I knovv not
\vhat ails me; but I find that I feel no more pain. Methinks that a
pleasing kind of freshness, as it were a wet cold napkin, did spread
over nlY hand, which hath taken R\Vay the inflanl111ation that tor-
nlented me before.' I replied, ' Since then that you feel already so
good effect of lily ll1edicall1ent, I advise you to cast a,vay all your
plaisters, only keep the \vound clean, and in a moderate telllper be-
twixt heat and cold.' 1 This was presently reported to the Duke of
Buckinghanl, and a little after to the King, \vho ,vere both very
curious to know the cirCulnstance of the business, \vhich ,vas, that
after dinner I took the garter out of the water and put it to dry
before a great fire. It was scarce dry but Mr. Ho'\vel's servant CUlne
running, that his ll1aster felt as ID uch burning as ever he had done,
if not 1110re; for the heat vvas such as if his hand ,vere 't\vixt coles
of fire. I answered, although that had happened at present, yot he
should finu ease in a short tinle; for I knevv the reason of his no\v

1 There can be little doubt that following out this advice, to keep the wound
clean and in a moderate ternperatnre, did vastly lnore towards the cure than all
Digby's washillgs of the blood-stained garter and the rest of his charlatanry.
Magic Szuords and SlJcars. 375

accident, and ,vould provide accordingly, for his l11aster should be


free from inflamnlation, it nlay be, before he could possibly return to
him; but in case he found no ease, I 1vlshed him to conle presently
back again; if not, he luight forbear conling. Thereupon he \vent,
and at the instant I did put the garter again into the 1vater, there-
upon he found his nlaster without any pain at all. To be brief, there
was no sense of pain aftervvard, but \vithin five or six days the
wounds were cieatrized and entirely healed." 1

In the European r0111anCeS of chivalry the chanlpions are usually


possessed of s,vords v{hich can cleave an opponent froll1 the helnlet
to the saddle, and souletin1es even divide his horse at the saUle tiule
in t,vo equal parts. The noble ICing Arthur obtained his famous
blade Excalibar in this ,vise, according to the veritable ronlanee of
l\'1erlin: A strange stone was one day discovered in front of the
church-door, and in it ,vas firmly fixed a s\yord, on the blade of \vhich
were ,vritten these lines:
Ich am y-hote [i. e. called] Excalibore;
Unto a king fair treasure.
(On Inglis is this wdting)
Kerve steel, and yren, and al thing.
It was then declared that ,vhosoever should be able to drR\V this
s,vord out of the stone should be aekno,vledged as King of Britain.
'lVlany ,vere the strong and hardy knights "vho attelllpted in vain to
withdraw the sword, until at length Arthur came for\vard-" being
then in need of a trusty blade "-and drew it forth "vith perfect ease.
This incident may have been taken frolll the Volsung Saga: "The
Volsnngs traced thernselves back, like all heroes, to Odin, the great
father of gods and men. From hiln sprang Sigi, from him Volsung.
I n the centre of his hall grew an oak, the tall trunk of 1vhich passed
through the roof, and its boughs spread far and wide in the upper
air. Into that hall, on a high feast-day, ,vhen Signy, Volsung's
daughter, ,vas to be given a,vay to Siggier, king of Gothland, strode
an old one-eyed guest. His feet ,vere bare, his hose ,vere of knitted
1 It is said that Jalnes VI. leaTued from Sir J{enelnl Digby the secret of this
mode of cure, which he pretended had been taught him by a Oarmelite friar in
Al'lnenia.
376 Magical ]j]lements in the l3quire's Tale.
linen; he wore a great striped cloak and a broad flapping hat. In
his hand he bare a great s\vord, ,vhich, at one stroke, he buried up
to the hilt in the oak-trunk. 'There,' said he, 'let him of all this
C0111pany bear this s"word who is nlan enough to draw it out. I give
it hin1, and none shall say he ever ",yore a better blade.' With these
,vords he passed out of the hall and ,vas seen no nlore. l\1:any tried,
for that s\vord ,vas plainly a thing of price, but none could stir it till
Sigmund, the best and bravest of the Volsung's sons, tried his hand,
and la! the weapon yielded itself at once. This was the famous
blade Gram."l
The Dwarfs in the Norse sagas are the most expert 111akers of
irresistible s\vords: Sualforlani, king of Gadarike [i. e. Russia], cap-
tures two dwarfs while out hunting. He orders them to forge him
a s\vord ,vith a hilt and belt of gold, that should never nliss a blow
and never rust, could cut through iron and stone as through a gar-
n1ent, and al'ways be victorious in ,var and single cornbat. On fulfill-
ing these conditions he would grant them their lives. The dwarfs
on the day appointed came and delivered the sword to the king, and
",,,hen one of thenl 8tood at the door he said, "This sword shall be
the bane of a man every tinle it is dra\vn, and ,vith it shall be done
three of the greatest atrocities." Thereupon Sualforlani struck at
the dwarf so that the blade of the s'Nord penetrated into the solid
rock. Thus did Sualforlani beconle possessed of this fanlous sword,
1 A sonlewhat similar Talnludic legend is told of Moses and the rod with
which he divided the Red Sea, so that the Israelites passed over with dry foot,
and srnote the rock in the wilderness, causing a plenteous stream of pure water
to flow forth. It seenlS that this extraordinary staff was created 011 the sixth
day and given to Ada-Ill while yet in Paradise-but for what purpose it does not
appear. Adanl bequeathed it to Enoch, who gave it to Shenl, the eldest son of
N oah, frOlll whom it descended. to Isaac and J acob. It was by the help of this
staff that Jacob crossed the Jordan-he probably it as a leaping-stick-and
he took it with him to Egypt. Before his death he presented it to Joseph, at
whose death it was taken, with the rest of his property, into Pharaoh's treasury,
where Jethro, then one of the royal magicians, at once recognized its magic
qualities, and on quitting the Egyptian court to settle in Midian, he took it with
hhll, and planted it in his garden, where no person was able to approach it,
nntil the arrival of Moses-who had fled thither after slaying the insolent
Egyptian-and he, having read the mystical words written on the staff, pulled
it out of the ground with great ease; a circlunstance which clearly showed that
the staff was reserved for him alone.
377
and he called it Tirfyng, and in single conlbat he slew with it the
giant Thiasse, and took his daughter Fridur. 1
This grilll warrior's first stroke vvith his ne,v s,vord Tirfyng, by
,vhich he cleaved in t,YO the unfortunate d,varf ,vho helped to make
it, recalls a similar incident in the Bedouin rOUlallce of Antar, when
the equally faInous blade Dhanll first tasted blood. A thunderbolt
,vhich had killed a call1el ,vas given by an Arab chief to a
snlith, to be forged into a trusty s,vord. vVhen it ,vas finished the
artisan took it to the chief, with the unlucky reulark-
" Sharp is the sword, 0 chief of the tribe of Ghalib 1
But where is the smiter for the sword 1"
"As for the snliter," quoth the chief-" I anl the smiter!" and,
suiting the action to the ,vord, he struck off the slnith's head. This
l)lade afterwards came into the possession of the reno\vned poet-hero
Antar, in whose hand it caused n1en's heads to "flee aff like taps
0' thistles."

Among other celebrated s\vords was that given to the reno,vned


Jack by his friend the three-headed giant, which was" of such exceed-
iug sharpness that it will cut through ,vhatever you strike." Similar
,vas the s\vord 'vhich the hero Eisen- (i. e. Iron) Laczi, in a Polish tale,
received from the king of the serpents, in re\vard for having saved
his daughter froI11 a burning hayrick, which cut do,vn everyone so
long as it was not cleaned: he also received froll1 the satne ophidiall
potentate a shirt that was impenetrable while it renlained un\vashed.
The Gipsies of Buko,vina tell of a s,vord with ,vhich a hero,
single-handed, destroyed an entire army. "When he ,vent to battle
he \vaved it to the right, and sle,v half of the arnlY, and he moved it
to the left hand, and sle,v the other half."2-Not less po,verful was
the blade of 'vhich \ve read in the Arabian tale of "J udal' of Cairo
and Mahlllud of TuniH": "Genie as well as nlen dreaded this
sword, for ,vhell the dervish Sintbut, its maker, was angry ,vith any
one, he needed only to raise it against him, ,vhen a ra.y of light
issued from it, which divided his adversary into t,vo parts, and
reduced them to ashes. If many assailed hinl at once, he had only
1 Dasent's PopuJa1' Tctles f'rom the N01'8C, Introd. p. Ixi.
2 Dr. J\1iklosich's Afiirchcn L-iede1' der Zigeune1' der Bukowina, No. XIII.
378 Magical Ele1nents in the Squi1'le's Tale.
to touch one of then1 'with the sword, and all fell lifeless on the
ground."l
Sonletinles a 111agic s\vord does deadly execution vvhen merely
ordered to do so, and even of its o,vn accord. In a Gernlan tale,
one of the treasures for the possession of which two buffIe-headed
giants are disputing is a sword to vvhich you have only to say,
"Heads off!" and off goes every head-except that of the ovvner, of
course. So, too, in Spitta Bey's French rendering of a collection of
modern Arabian tales, there is a svvord that spares neither great 1101'
s111all, if one but dra\v it and say, "Strike left and right!" In one
Hungarian tale there is a sword to 'which you have only to say," S\vord,
come out of your scabbard," \vhen it would leap forth and slash about
so that not even a fly could approach, and in another is a blade which
"at your conlnland \vill slay the population of seven countries." 2 In
the Kalnluk tales of S1:rldhi Kur, a sword, and in the Jdlalcas, or Bud-
dhist Birth-stories, a hatchet, have only to be ordered to go after such
a man, cut off his head, and bring back the treasure on his person,
and all is done forthwith.-In the Norse sagas, the sword '\vhich
Freyr gave to Skirnir slew men of its ov{n accord. Hrolf Krake's
s\vord, Skofnung, \vould cry in its scabbard, and of itself leap out to
battle: the s\vord of the Berserker, called Bryntlnvare, did likewise.
But what were these blades cOlnpared with the Sword of Venge-
ance, vvhich killed eight champions with a single stroke, and spared
neither nlaid nor nlother! 3 In the old rOluance of Le chevalie1" a

1 Kirby's lVew Arabian Nights, p. 153.


2 Folk-Tales of the fi£agyars, pp. 66" 293.-I see no reason why tl1e famous
Magic Stick, which does such execution in so many folk-tales, should not be
considered as a hUluble but sturdy cousin to these self-acting swords. V\Thell
the youth has been deprived of his inestiInable luagic treasures by a rascally
landlord, he obtains a stick, to which he has only to say, "Stick, stick! lay
on! " and when the stick has given the landlord a few of its gentle pats on the
sconce the rogue cries out, "Stop! stop! and I'll give you back your things."
A. sv;ord could have done no more, except perhaps kill the landlord, and that
would have been excessive punishment.
3 See Prior's Danish Ballads, i. p. 268.-In a Polish tale, the hero sees on the
wall of a room in the castle of Helen the Enchantress a sword hanging, and it
continued to leap out of the sheath and back again every mOluent. He exchanges
his own sword for it; and when I-Ielen comes in she seizes the sl\,Tord on the wall,
but no sooner did it touch her own (in the hero's hand) than it flew into bits.
Magic and SJJCCt1"S. 379

l' Epee Gaw'ain is received into an enchanted castle, where a s,vorcl


cut off the head of any person ,vho took li berties with the daughter
of the chatelain.-It would also appear that, in olden tiu1es, when
yvhat ,ve consider as n1arvels were alnlost every-day occurrences,
heroes fondly conversed \vith their swords. Thus in the grand
national epic of the :Finns, the ]{alevala, the hero I{ ullewo asks his
s\vord ,vhether it is dispoecd to eat the flesh and drink the blood of
the guilty, and the trusty blade ans\vers, "vVhy should I not eat
the flesh and drink the blood of the guilty, \vhen I have eaten the
flesh and drank the blood of the innocent vVhereupon Kulle\vo
slays hin1self with the sword.
Irresistible magic s,vords and spears often figure -and to son1e
purpose, too-in early Eurol.eall rOluantic poetry. Thus in Spenser's
J/'aerie Queene, B. 11., c. viii., st. 20 :

For that salne knight's own s,vord this is, of yore


Which Merlin made by his ahnightie art
For that his N ourRling, when he Knighthood swore,
Therewith to doen his foes eternall S111art.
The nletal first he mixt with ll1e<lae"vart,
That no enchantment from his dint nlight save;
Then it in fianlCs of Aetna wrought apart,
And seven tiu1es dipped in the bitter wave
Of hellish Styx, which hidrien virtue gave.

In Bojardo's OJ'lando Inn aniJOrato , B. I., c. i., st. 43, we read of "a
lance of gold wrought out \vith skill and snhtle toil. l'hat lance is
of such a nature that nothing can re.sist its t.hrust: force or slight
avail not against it; but both 11ll1st surely be OVerC0111e; enchant-
lllent unequalled in the \vorld has girdlecl it around with such pOvver,
that neither the count of Brava, nor Rinalclo, nor [anything in] the
"world could stand firm against its thrust."-But in the sanle poen1
,ve llleet "\vith s,vords which are wrought vvith such fine telnper as to
break the spell of every sorcery-even enchantnlent avails not where
they lay their strokes (B. 11. xvii., 13).-ln Ariosto's Orlando Furioso
,ve read, according to vV. Ste\vart Rose's translation:

"You are ll1yown bridegroOln," said she, and so they were married.-Dnblin
Un'iversily J{agazine, 1867, vol. xx. 1). 142.
380 lIfctgicctl in the sTale.
Thus by Rogoro's suit the enchantress won,
r,ro his first shape transfornwd the youthful poer ;
But good Melissa deomed that nought was done
Save she restored his arrnour and his spear
Of gold, which, whenso'er at tilt he rUll,
At the first touch unseated cavalier. (viii. 17.)
On Rabican, pricked forth before his band,
Va:iant Astolpho, from the other bound,
With the enchanted lance of gold in hand,
Which at the first encounter bore to ground
What knights he smote with it. (xviii. 15.)
The lance, hy which who ever in the course
vVas touched, fell headlong hurtling frOln his horse. (xxiii. 15.)
We find spears of like quality in Spenser's l/aerie Queene:
Ah, gallant knight, that ever arnlor bore,
Let not thee grieve dislnOUl1ted to have beene,
And brought to grownd, that never wast before;
For not thy fault, but secret po\vre unseene :
That speere enchauntod was which layd thee on the gre3ne !
(B. Ill. c. i. st. 7.)
Beside those arlnes there stood a Inightie speare,
Which Bladud made by nlagic art of yore,
And usd the salne in batteill aye to beare ;
Sith which it had been here preservcl in store,
For his great vertues proved long afore:
For never wight so fast in sell could sit,
But hhn perforce unto the ground it bore. (B. Ill. c. iii, st. 60.)
A stranger knight, sayd he, unknowne by namo,
But.knowne by fmne, ·and by an hebene [i. e. ebony] speare,
With which he all that met him downe did beare.
(B. IV. c. vi. st. 6.)
Velent the smith, according to the Edda of Saenlund, forged a
"s,vord of sharpness" called Bahnung, 'which had no superior. So
sharp was this fanlous sv{ord that 'when Velent cleft his rival Enlilius
,vith it, the blade seenled to Enlilius only like cold 'water running
dO\Vll his body. " Shake thyself," said Velent. He did so, and fell
C in two halves, one on each side of the chair.-The same gifted artisan
wrought the sword presented to Childe Horn:
Then she lete forth bring
A swerd hongand by a ring,
To Horn sehe it bitanght,
'" It is the make of MClning,
Of all swerdes it is king,
And \Velend it wrought.
Magic and Spea1'>s. 381
Bitterfer, the sweru hight,
Better swerde bar never knight:
Horn, to thee ieh it thought
Is not a knight in Inglond
Sehal sitten a dint of thine han d ;
Forsake thou it nought."

The ballad of Child Orm relates how that hero obtained fronl his
Inother's t0111b the irresistible sword Birting, \vith \vhich he sle\v the
giant Berm-
" Grip it with firm and uauntless hand,
And none shall ever thee withstand."

Thorpe, in his Northern 1flytholorJY, iii. p. 276, tells us of a


magic sword that had been given by a nlonk to Mynheer Hincke.
"It had been ,vrought at the hour in ,vhich l\{ars ruled; the cross
,vas forged on a Tuesday, and on that day ,vas finished. In the hilt
,vas enclosed a piece of wood that had been struck by thunder (sic).
All this was pel'fornled in the hour of Mars. .A. s\vord so prepared
causes the blades of all opponents to fly to pieces."
But the qualities of s,vords in Indian tales are as various as they
are 111al'vellous. A devotee gives a bl'ave youth a lllagic blade: "If
you say to it, ' S,vord given by Siva, take me to such a place,' it 'will
instantly fly \"ith you there; and you will be victorious in ev·ery
battle, and as long as it re1nains your possesslon you twill never
die." In another tale the goddess Durga gives the hero a s\vord, by
IneallS of \vhose magic po\ver he could render himself invisible to his
enell1ies (Ta,vney's Kuthd Sarit Sdgara, i. 69); in another, ,ye read
of a sword \vhich, "as long as you hold in your hand, ,vill enable
you to travel through the air, and you ,vill be invincible in battle"
(i. 503); \vhile in yet another tale (i. 378) the hero obtains a Dlagic
ointluent whic.h he is to Slllear on his s\Yord-blade, \vhen it ,vill cut
through anything.
382

11.

M ORE than fifty years ago, Tholnas Wright, the indefatigable


literary antiquary, in the notes to his edition of Chaucer's
Poenls, published for the Percy Society, renlarked that it V\Tas then
unknown frolll ,vhat source Chaucer derived the Squire's Tale: "it is
not found, so far as I fun avvare," he adds, " ih any other fornl in the
literature of the l\1iddle Ages." The precise SOUTce of the Tale has
not yet been ascertained; but it is s0111e,vhat strange to find a n1an
so generally ,vell versed in European 111edimval literature apparently
ignorant of the existence of the French Inetrical ronlance of
written, in the thirteenth century, by Adenos, chief of the court poets,
in which the counterpart of Chaucer's Horse of Brass-only nlado of
ebony-figures proluinel1tly allll0st from the beginning to the end.
And even if he did not knovv of this rOlllance in its original forlll, he
might surely be expected to have been acquainted ,vith the later
prose version of it, if only froI11 I(eightley's English rendering of
Count Tressan's exh'ait of that 'York, ,vhich he gives in his Tales
and POljzllar Fictions, published in 1834. W right has also over-
looked the faluiliar tale of the Ebony Horse in the Arabian Nights,
to vvhich the r0111anCe of Cleomades presents a striking resenlblance,
while the First Part of the Squire's Tale is very near akin to botb.
Chaucer could not have been acquainted ,vith the Arabian tale,
except through oral recitation, and he is not at all likely to have
learned it in that ,vay; but he 11lay have been quite familiar-and it
is ahnost impossible for us to think he vvas not-with the French
r0111Unce. Yet he could hardly have taken the First Part of the
Squire's Tale fron1 the French romance, unless we give hinl credit in
this solitary instance for an independent invention of details ,vhich
he has not been found to exercise, or exhibit, in the case of the other
Tales, which are (sometilnes avovvedly) derived from well-kno,vn
European sources, which he follows pretty faithfully. One thing is
Adenes le Roi. 383
certain, however, namely, that the incident of the Indian anlbassador
presenting himself before King Cambyuskan, as he sat in his
banqueting-hall 011 the occasion of a high festival, with a Horse of
Brass and other gifts fronl "the king of Araby and Ind" is not
of Chaucer's invention, and it is possible that he had some other
version of the romance of no,v lost, before him as his
model; for Chaucer, like Shakspeare, did not give himself the
trouble of inventing tales for purposes of poetical embellishnlent, but
laid hold of whatever came to hand that suited his fancy.-W e have
already sketched the outline of the Tale (pp. 270-274), so
far as it goes; and the question of its source ,vill be 11l0re intelligibly
discussed when ,ve have also before us an abstract of the old French
ronlance of its Arabian prototype, and cognate stories;-
though I may as ,ven say at once, that the result will not be con-
clusive, except perhaps in proving ,vhence Chaucer did not derive
his Tale.
The old French text of OZeomades ,vas for the first tinle printed
at Brussels in 1865, under the editorship of the learned Dr. van
Hasselt, fronl the IVeS. (N'o. 175, "Belles Lettres") in the Arsenal
Library at Paris, collated with the MS. 7539, in the Imperial (now
the National) Library, at Paris.! rrhe MS. in the Arsenal Library
is illustrated throughout, and was probably the Count of Artois'
own copy. From Dr. van, Hasselt's introduction are gleaned the
following particulars regarding the author:
Adenes, or Adans, surnamed Le Roi (in all probability because
he was" king," or laureate, of the court minstrels to Henri Ill., duke
of Brabant, 1248-1261), was born in Brabant, of poor parentage,
about 1240, and owed his education and advancement, as his o,vn
,vords in' the Ronlance declare (1. 18580 ff.), to Duke Henri. Jean,
the second, son, vv ho, after an interval of civiI strife, ollly terminated
by the abdication of his elder brother Henri, succeeded to the
dukedom in 1267, continued our minstrel in his service. For sonle
reason, Adenes did not renlain long ,vith hinl, and in 1269 is found

1 Li Rou,mans de Clemnc(,des, par A.denes li Rois: publie pour la premiere fois,


d'apres un n1anuscrit de la bibliotheque de l'A.rsenal, a Paris, par Andre van
Hasselt. Bruxelles, 1865. T. i. pp. 282; t. H. pp. 305.
c C
384 A of the Squi1'le's Tale.
-attached to the court of Gui de Danlpierre, count of Flanders. His
position, as nlinstrel to the son of Marguerite of Flandel's, one of the
great vassals of France, nlade hinl a partaker in St. Louis' second
and last crusade. In the spring of 1270 he is found in the train
of Count Gui at Aigues-l\fortes, '\vith the royal arnlY. After the
disastrous death of St. Louis at Tunis, the expedition returned honle
by Sicily, \vhere Adenes, among others, ,vas entertained by Gui at a
public dinner. By sunl111er of 1271 they ,vere h0111e again. Adenes
,vas a frequent visitor (in his ll1aster's service) to Paris, \vhere he
used to consult the learned monks of St. Denis for historical lllaterials.
He ,vas thus presented to the king's (Philippe le Rardi) sister,
Blanche of France, wido\v of the Spanish Infante, to Robert 11.,
count of Artois (to \vhom is dedicated), and to his
daughter Mahaut, or Maud. It 'was then, doubtless, that Oleornade8
was suggested to hinl by the princess Blanche of France, ,vha ,vas
herself \veIl acquainted vvith Spain. The date of his death is
uncertain. Paulin Paris says that he \vas still in Gni's service in
1296; and a document in the British MUSeU111 MSS. (No. 6965)
Inentions one Adas, a minstrel of the count of Flanders, ,vho received
a gift from Ed\vard I. of England, then (1297) on a visit there to
help his kinsnlan Gui againf3.t Philippe le Hardi. appeared
at the tinle of Philippe's attenlpted seizure of Cerdagne and Rous-
sUlon (exthanged for Languedoc by Louis IX. -Saint Louis-in
1258), in ,vhich he lost his life, 1285. Can the nlinstrel have had a
political 1110tive He makes his hero's ancestor king of Sartaigne-
i. e. Cerdagne, and not Sarc1aigne, as S0111e (De Tressan, Reiffenberg)
have thought. Van Hasselt throvvs out the hint for \vhat it lllay
be \vorth.

According to PanEn Paris (in a lettor to Keightley, portions of


\vhich are cited in his Tales and POlJular Fictions), shortly after
Adenos conlposed t11e romance of " SOlTIe copiers produced
it under the different nanIes of Le Cheval de Fust [the Wooden
11orse] and Celinde et Meliarchus. These copiers changed nothing
but the beginning of Adenes, and they follo\vcd faithfully the Inain
story and the details of the poeIn." 'rhe prose version,
and OZa're1nonde. 385
L' Histoire et Ohronique du vaillant Ohe'vallier et de la
belle Olaremonde, appeared about the year 1480, and of this ,vork
Count Tressan published an extrait in the B-ibliotheque des rontans,
April 1777, t. i., 169 fr. 1 Of this abstract l(eightley gives an
English translation in his Tales and POJndtFr jjYctions, pp. 43-69,
,,, divested in some measure of the frippery ,vith ,vhich ""vriters under
the ancien Ireghne in France were in the habit of disfiguring their
conlpositions." In l'eproducing I(eightley's version, as follo\vs, I
have added in foot-notes variations froIn the original metrical text as
published by Dr. van IIasselt :

llf nub'
THE young anti beautiful Ectriva ,vas queen of that part of Spain
of which Seville was the capital. At a tournament held in her
presence, lVlarchabias, son and heir of the King of Sardinia, dis-
tinguished himself so nluch by his address and courage that he ,van
her heart, and she besto\ved on him her hand and made hinl a
sharer of her royal dignity. Their n1arriage was happy, and in the
space of four Jears they saw themselves the parents of a prince and
three princesses. To their son they gave the name of Cleomades;
his sisters ,vere called Helior, Soliadis, and 1Iaxinla. All were
beautiful; but, fronl her very infancy, the charn1s of ]\faxima were
such as to entrance an beholders. 2
As soon as Prince Cleoll1ades had been sufficiently instructed at
home, his parents sent hinl to travel for his improvelllent. He
visited Greece, Germany, and France, and ,vas proceeding to Italy
,vhen he was sumnl0ned hon1e by the king and queen to give his
presence at the nuptials of his sisters, 'vhose hands were sought by
three great princes, ,vho ,vere novv arrived in Seville, ,vhither their
fame had preceded thenl. 3 For they were not only po'\verful monarchs,
1 See also (E'llVreS du.. C01nte de Tn;8sctn-Paris, 1822. Tome Ill., pp. 255-
298.
2 In the original metrical Romance of Cleolllades, Ynabele [1 Annabelle],
daught.er of the King of Spain, is married to Marcadigas, the son of Caldus,
king of Sardinia; their son is called Cleomades, and the names of the three
daughters are, Elyador, Feniadisse, and l\larine.
3 Here the l\1et. Rom. informs us that l\larcadigas had been long at war,
defending his land against five kings. He challenges one of them to single
CC 2
386 of the sTale.

but were deeply versed in astrology and well skilled in the art of
nlagic. One was Melicandus, king of Barbary; the second was
Bardigans, king of Arnlenia; the third, whose name ,vas Croppart,
was king of Hungary.! This last was ugly and humpbacked; his
soul "vas as defornled as his body, and his tongue was pregnant with
falsehood.
These three kings had nlet together before they set out for
Seville, and had agreed that each should give such a present to tlle
king and queen as would entitle him to ask a gift in return. On
their arrival they 'v ere received vvith all becoming honours. 2 I{ing
Melicandus presented the royal pair ,vith a man of gold, who held in
his right hand a trumpet formed of the sanle nletal, nlade with
ll1uch art, that if treason lurked \vithin even a considerable distance
fronl him, he put the trunlpet to his mouth and ble'\v a loud and
piercing blast.-King Bardigans presented a hen and sjx chickens of
gold, so skilfully fornled that they seelned to be alive. lIe placed
them on the ground, and they instantly began to run about, to peck,
and to clap their ,vings. The hen flew up on the queen's knee,
cackled, and laid a fine pearl in her lap. 3 "She will do the sanle
every third day," said Bardigans. All present were lost in admira..

cornbat in two months' time. Cleomades, then in France, hears of this (he
was only twenty-five years old, and none under thirty were then called men),
and returns at once to his father, whonl he persuades to nlake hinl one of his
new 300 knights at a festival. Five cornbats take place: Garsianis, Idng of
Portugal; Bondars le Gris, king of Gascony; Galdas des Mons, sire of Tou.
louse; Agam bart 1i Lons, king of Aragon; and Sormans li Rous, king of
Galicia-such were the names of the princes who accepted the bold challenge
of Marcadigas, who had, however, a doughty ally in his son. Cleomades first
overthrows Agarnhart, then Bondars; wbile Marcadigas worsts Sornlans and
Garsianis. Galdas attacks Marcadigas, and kills his horse under him. l\far-
cadigas is surrounded by foes. Cleomacles spurs to the rescue, and driving at
the bold King Galdas unhorses him, and the spectators call Cleoluades "the
god of arn1s" (1. 1154). The five kings return to their respective countries,
after doing fealty to him and his father. So did the gallant Cleomades prove
hinlself in anus (1. 1410).
1 The names of these three in the Met. Rom., are: Melocandis, of
Barbary; Baldigans, of Morocco; and Crolllpart (sometin1es written Crolupars),
of Bougie-or Bugia = Bujaiyah = the fourth of the provinces in to which
l\Iuslims divide North Africa, viz.: Tunis, Tripoli, Constantilla, and Bugia.
2 In the Met. Rom. the three kings arrive at "Seville the Great" while
l\rIarcadigas is celebrating his birthday by a grand feast.
3 A hen and tkree chickens, in IVlet. Rom., and no mention of pearls.
Cle01nades and 387
tion of these \vonderful gifts.-I(ing Croppart now canle forward
"\vith a large \vooden horse, l nlaguificently caparisolled, \vith pins of
steel on his head and shoulders. "Sire," said he, in a harsh and dis-
cordant voice, "with the horse \vhich I offer you one may lllount in
the air, cross the seas, and travel at the rate of fifty leagues an hour." 2
l"he king and queen, who yielded to none in generosity, offered
the strangers in return anything that was in their po\ver to bestow.
At once they craved as a boon the hands of the three fair princesses
of Seville; and Marchabias and Ectriva, seeing no sufficient reason
to justify a refusal, accorded them their delnand. The t\VO elder
princesses and the \vhole court were pleased "\vith the kings of
Barbary and Armenia, 'vho ,vere handsollle anll agreeable in their
persons. But the princess Maxilnu, \vhen she sa\v that she ,vas the
choice of ICing Croppart, burst into tears, and running to her brother.
illlplored him to deliver her froIn such a hideous monster, or to put
her to death with his own hand. 3 Cleomades, who loved his sister
tenderly and could not endure the idea of her being t.hus sacrificed,
arose and declared to his father that he had bound hitnself by oath
to defend the liberty of his youngest sister and that he could not
consent to such a union. On the other hand, Croppart insisted on
the pronlise of the king. The prince, darting at hinl a look of
indignation, said: "The two other kings have Inerited by the value
of their gifts the perfornlance of the king's pronlise; but \vhat
clailns do this paltry wooden horse and the fable you have ventured
to tell us give you?" " lVIy lord," said Croppal>t, gladly seizing the
opportunity presented of getting rid of the prince, "be judge your-
self of the nlerits of nlY horse. There is nothing I will not submit
to if I deceive you." "Yes," cried the prince, "I \villlnake trial of
him this very instant." So saying, he had the horse brought into
the garden: the golden nlan gave a loud blast on his trlunpet, but

1 A horse of ebony, in Met. Rom.


2 "Faster than arro,v shot from bow."-Here follows a very long account
of Virgil and his skill in the magic art. (1. 1650 if.)
3 The statement (p. 385) that Cleomades was summoned hOll1e to attend
the nuptials of his sisters is thus rendered utterly absurd. Of course, this is
due to Tressan, who could not, or would not, take the trouble to account for
the presence of Cleomades, who had returned to assist his father against his
enemies.
388 Analogues oj the Squi1"e's Tale.
his warning ,vas unheeded, all being so occupied about Prince
The prince nlounted the horse, but it renlained
lnovable: he began to menace Croppart. "Turn the steel pin in
his forehead," cried the latter: 1 the golden man ble,v his trU111pet
nlore fiercely than before. The king heard it and called to his son to
dislnount. But it ,vas now too late; the prince had turned the pin
and ,vas aloft in the air, carried along with such velocity that he was
speedily out of sight.
The king and queen, full of grief and indignation, instantly had
Croppart seized, nlenacing hinl with the Dl0St cruel death in case
any evil should befall their son. But he replied ,vith the greatest
cahnness: "The fault is not TIline; he should have ,vaited till I had
told hinl ho,v to TI1Unage the horse." There appeared so lunch
reason in ,vhat he said that they did not feel justified in having
recourse to any measures of extreme rigour against him. He ,vas
therefore only confined in an apartnlent of the palace, but in other
respects honourably treated. To the two other kings Illade an
apology for deferring the nuptials till they should ·have tidings of
their son, at the salne tilne assuring them that they had no idea
whatever of not fulfilling their engagements.

Mean\vhile the gallant Cloonlades was carried along ,vith great


rapidity. He lost neither his courage nor his self-possession. At
first he expected that the horse ,vould bring hilu back to ,vhere he
had set out fronl; but ,vhen he sa,v the appearance of the country
continually changing beneath hin), and at last found that he ,vas
passing over the sea, he perceived to his gtief that he was quitting
Spain. Night was now spread over the earth, but still the speed at
which he ,vas proceeding remained unchanged. I{ecollecting, at
length, that there were pins on the horse's shoulders sinlilar to that
on his forehead, he took advantage of the first rays of light to nlake
trial of theIne lIe found that by turning one of thenl to the right
or left, the horse ,vent in that directIon; and that when the one on
the other shoulder ,vas turned, he slackened his pace and descended
towards the earth. 1"'his discovery cheered the prince, and he even
1 In the original Crompart himself turns the pin.
CZeo1nades and Claremonde. 389

began to entertain hopes of some fortunate adventure. The l'ays of


the sun, no,v reflected fronl glittering donles and spires, inforlned
hiln that he was passing oyer SOl11e great and nlagnificent city; so,
skilfully managing the .pins on the shoulders of his horse, he
descended on the leads of a lofty tower, 1vhich stood in the 11lidst of
the gardens of a great palace. 1
The prince, 1vho ,vas both fatigued and hungry after so long a
journey through the air, dismounted, and leaving his horse on the
roof of the tower, opened a trap-door and ,vent dO\Vll a flight of
steps, which led hinl to a hall 1vhcre stood a table still covered ,vith
the reulains of a feast. He sat clown and regaled hilllself, and,
having drank 80111e delicious ,vine, ventured to enter a chanlber, the
door of '\yhich \vas half open. l'he first object that 111et his vie'v
was a huge giant, lying stretched. on the ground, and fast asleep.
The prince softly drew frolll his hand a key 1vhich he saw in it, and
coming to a richly-ornamentecl door, tried the key and opened it.
lie there l)eheld three beds, on each of which was reposing a young
and beautiful ll1aiden. The prince gazed for a mOll1ent on their
charms, and then passed on to a door \vhich ,vas standing open and
\vhich gave hinl a vievv of a chall1ber still Illore magnificent than
that ,vhich he \vas in. He entered and found a bed 1vith rich
hangings, and occupied by a 111aiden in the flower of youth, whose
beauty far surpassed that of her cOl1lpanions. She ,vas in a pro-
found sleep. 2 Cleonlades stood lost in rapture, and then for the first
tinle felt the influence of love. As he gazed on her a bee fie\v into
the apartlnent, and "vas about to settle on her bosom. Fearing to
a,vake her, the prince blew at the bee ,vith his breath, and the insect
turned and stung him on the cheek.
Just at that instant the nlaiden a\voke, and seeing a nlan in her
chamber 'gave a loud cry.3 ." Rash man," said she, "how have you
1 "Chastiau noble."
2 No nlention of a key in original Met. Rom. He passes the ." grant
viIain," crosses a corridor on the garden side, and opens an ivory door. To
the right of the three beds is that of the princess. The names of the three
felllale attendants are: Florete, and Lyades.
3 The incident of the bee is the invention of the prose adapter of the
romance-or of Uoun t Tressan. The prince ventures to kiss her as she sleeps,
and at the second kiss she awakes.
390 Analogues of the Tale.
presumed to enter this chanlber Are you King Liopatris,l whose
bride I am destined by my father to be If you are not, nothing
can save you from death." "Yes, princess," instantly replied
Cleonlades, " I aln. By nlY address, and under cover of the night,
I have penetrated into this chamber. I wished to see and do
homage to the beauty destined for llle, before I offered her llly hand.
Haply lny respect had led TIle to retire without awaking you, had
not this cruel bee lllenaced your bosom; and I could only avert the
stroke by receiving it myself." He took her lovely hand. The prin-
cess was nloved, and said: "I pardon you this indiscretion: retire
into the garden, while I SUlllmon my attendants to aid nle to dress."
The prince obeyed without hesitation, and the three attendHnts,
conling at the call of their mistress, prepared to attire her. She
related to them \vith a blush her adventure, and did not conceal the
impression which the appearance and manners of her future husband
had made on her lllind. vVhen dressed, the fair princess, follo,ved
by her maids of honour, went down into the garden, where she
found Cleomades expecting her. They entered an arbour, and in
the course of the conversation ,vhich ensued he learned, by what
fell fronl the attendants, that the naUle of the princess ,vas Clare-
monde, and that she was the daughter of Cornuant, king of Tuscany,2
who had engaged her to Liopatris, king of Astrachan.
CltSo111ades could not avoid secretly reproaching hinlself for the
deception he had practised; but he was too deeply in love to run
the risk of losing his present bliss. Under his assumed character he
proffered vows of everlasting attachment; and taking advantage of
the nlomentary absence of the princess's Dlaidens, who had risen to
gather flowers, he fell on his knees before her, and drew from the
fair Clal'elnOnUe a confession of corresponding affection, and a VO\V
of eternal fidelity. Just then a loud noise was heard, the doors of
the garden fie\v open, and }(ing Cornuant entered, follo\ved by his
conrti.ers and a troop of armed nlen.
1 Bleopatris, king of Arcage, son of Balcabe, a king of high renown,
according to Met. Rom.
2 In the metrical original, the princess is called Claremondine, and is the
daughter of Carmant, king of Tuscany, and his queen, Claren1onde, who,
indeed, is a quite subordinate character in the romance (11. 2650-2750).
Gleornades and Olarernonde. 391
The giant on awaking had gone to look after his fair charge.
Not finding her in her apartnlent, he became uneasy; but hearing
the voices of her 111aids in the garden, he looked out of a window,
and beholding a young knight at the feet of the princess in the
arbour, he went with all speed and gave information to the king. l
Cornuant in a rage demanded of his daughter, how it happened
that he thus found a stranger at her feet. "Surely," replied the
princess, "it must he with your own consent that he is come hither,
for he is no other than the prince to 'whonl you have engaged 11le."
"Traitor!" cried the king in a fury, turning to Cleomades, "what
llladness has induced you to intrude on the retirement of my
daughter, and to call yourself Liopatris "
"Ah, sire," replied Ch30nlades respectfully, "llave pity on a
young and helpless knight, who is persecuted by the vengea.nce of
the fairies. 1\1y father, one of the sovereigns of Europe, having
given them some offence, they condemned 11le at the moment of nlY
birth to be exposed for three days in each year to the greatest perils,
and the nl0111ent'in which these perils excite fear in my soul is to be
the last of my life. 2 Fr0111 the monlent I was knighted they have
every year caused nle to be carried off by a wooden horse that flies
through the air and takes me all over the world, exposing 111e to the
1110St appalling dangers; but as yet my courage has never given way.
Deign now, sire, to send up to the leads of this to'wer and the horse
will be found, who of himself descended in that place. Overcome
with hunger and fatigue, I went down in search of relief. Entering
'the chanlber of your daughter, I heard her cry out: 'Rash mall, if
you are any other than Prince Liopatris, I ,vill call for aid, and
your head ""ill be cut off.' I Inust confess, sire, that the natural
love of life illade Ine have recourse to a stratageln, which I n,o,v
strongly condeuln, and I submit to whatever you ll1ay please to
determine regarding 111e."
COl'llUallt 'was amazed at this relation, to ,vhich he did nqt, ho\v-
ever, give full credit. He sent some persons to the roof of the to\ver,
1 The king first privately sends for Lyades, one of the princess's maidens,
for fear of compromising his daughter too hastily, in Met. Rom.
2 Three days at the end of every three years; and not a word about
"fear," and so on.
302 Analogues of the Tale.

and, contrary to his expectations, sa,v then1 return, bearing with


son1e difficulty the ,vooden horse. He asselUbled his council, and
their unaninlous opinion was, that the stranger ,vas deserving death
for having dared to deceive the princess Clarelllonde and assun1e the
nallle of I{ing Liopatris. I{ing Cornuallt then directed IJiill to pre-
pare for death, as he had not 111any 1110111ents to live. " I expected
noth ing else," replied the prinee with calnlness; then turning to
Clarenlonde, \vho seen1ed over,Yhelnled ,vith affliction, "Pardon,
divine princess," said he, "the artifice to ,vhich I had recourse.
Inlpnte it to love, and belieye that the 1l10St devoted of lovers
will expire before your eyes." The princess sighed and wept, and,
unable to speak, covered her head ,vith her veil. The executioners
approached.
"I{ing Cornuant," cried the prince, "I anl a knight, and of
noble blood; let lue die according to the manner of my own
country, where a knight al,vays receives his death 1110untcd on a
,var-horse. Let nle mount this instrnu1ent of the fairies' nlalignity;
it 111ay suffice to save my honour and that of nlY country." 1
Cornuant, who felt a secret pity for the prince, readily granted
his request. Cleolllades 1110unted the ,vooden horse, turned the pin
in its forehead, and ,vas in an instant high in the air, and beyond all
danger. He hovered about for sonle tinle, to the utter terror and
alllaZenlent of the beholders, and then crying aloud, "Charnling
princess, I shall ever rernain fait hfu1," directed his course home-
,yards. As he now perfectly understood the nlanagell1en t of the
horse, he speedily reached Seville. He disnlounted, and left the
horse at a small country palace not far from the city, and hastened
to console his anxious parents. 2

The nuptials of the two elder princesses 'with the kings MeIi-
candus and Bardigans were no longer delayed. But as the princess
lVIaxinla persisted in her aversion from King Croppart, and the
golden man ble,v his trunlpet every tinle he renevved his proposal,
and Prince Cleomades moreover still declared hinlself the champion
1 At first he is condemned to be hung, but ultitnately gains permission to
bo cut to pieces (" decoupez d'espees "), seated on his horse, in lUet. ROlll.
2 In the original the lnagic horse takes him straight hanlo.
CleOl1Lades and Olare1nonde. 393
of his sister, King Marchahias gave him a positive refusal, aCCOln·
panied \vith orders to quit the court ilnmediately.
Croppart, having been ohliged to leave his own country, and st.ay
away for the space of a year,! on account of some crinles which he
had committed, resolved to remain in the neighbourhood of Seville.
He disguised himself, and passed for an Indian physician, and,
taking up his abode in one of the villages near the city, ,vatched the
movelnents of the royal falllily.2 He soon learned that Prince Cleo-
Inades had set out on another expedition. For this young man,
unable to control the violence of his passion for the fair Clarelnonde,
had made a confidante of hi::; nl0ther, \vho, feeling that it \vould be
useless to detain hiIn, had consented to his returning, by means of
the \vooden horse, to the abode of that princess, only enjoining him
prudence and. caution.
Cleomades arranged the time of his departure so as to arrive by
night at the to\ver of his beloved Claremonde. Instead of alighting
on the leads, he directed his horse to a little garden, ,vhose only
entrance ,vas fronl the apartnlents of the princess, and concealed
hinl in an arbour. Full of hope, fear, and love, he then dre\v nigh
to the door. It ,vas open; he entered and ad vallced to\vards the
chanlber of Clarenlonc1e. He found her lying in a gentle slumber;
a single lau1p gave light in the IIaving gazed for sonIe
1110nlents \vith rapture on her charms, he gently awoke her. 3 "Ah,
rash youth," said she in a tender and affectionate tone,"" 'v hy \vill
you again venture 011 certain death \Vhat do you purpose, since
you are not I{ing Liopatris "To adore you \vhile I live,"
returned he, "and give you a station ,vorthy of you. laIn Cleo-
111ac1es, son of the King of Spain. l\fy parents know of nlY love,
and 'vill press you to their bosolns, and lllake you nlistress of one of
the Illost splendid thrones in the world." " vVhat !" cried the
princess, "are you that Cleomades 'VhOlll fanle proclaims to be the

1 Seven years, in Met. Rom.


2 No mention of disguise: he renlaills in Seville, and takes to visiting-
sick persons; "for he was skilled in the physician's craft-from thence to
Salonica [perhaps SaJerno] was no such lord of leechcraft."
3 He hides in a grove until nightfall, and then guides his magic horse into
the palace-garden. Stealing in, he awakes her with -two kisses.
394 Anal()lJues of the Tale.

ll10st gallant and accol11plished of knights The prince replied by


presenting her \vith a splendid bracelet, containing his mother's
portrait and his O"Vll. The princess avo\ved her love; she told hinl
that Liopatris was to arrive that very day, attended by all the
knights of his court, and that nothing would induce her father to
break his word. Cleomades then inforlued her of his plan, and she
consented to mount the enchanted horse, and suffer him to conduct
her to Spain.
Day was now approaching. She sunlmoned her three attendants
to her presence, who \vere greatly surprised to see there again the
young man had already run such a risk. Their surprise "vas
augmented when their mistress informed thelu that he ,vas the
celebrated Prince Cleoluades. They made no needless remonstrance,
but attired the princess in her most costly dress. One packed up
her jewels in a small writing-case; another made ready a basket of
provisions for the journey. The third, more cautious, begged of
to defer his departure till the sun was risen, and to carry
off the princess in the sight of King Cornuant, who every
walked in the gardens adjoining those of the princess; by which
nleans, she said, she and her con1panions would escape all blame.
Cleomades consented: the maids retired to their beds, and leading
the princess into the garden he placed her behind hiln on the magic
horse.
The sun was no\v spreading his beams over the earth. Cleo-
mades turned the pin in the forehead of his horse and t.he steed
rose into the air. When he had ascended as high as the tops of the
palace to\vers he beheld the king and his courtiers in the gardens
beneath. " Sire," cried he, "know that I anI Cleomades, Prince of
Spain. Be not uneasy about the princess ;-n1Y father and ulother
"rill receive her with all respect and affection. If King Liopatris,
\vho has never beheld her, should feel offended, I will give hiln
satisfaction; or if he will, I will besto,v on him the hand of my
sister." 1 So saying, he ulade an inclination to the king; the princess
stretched forth her arms to her father, but the rapidity of the motion
soon made her clasp her lover round the waist.
1 No mention of Liopatris, or Bleopatris, in the Met. Rom.
39.5
The aerial travellers did not arrive at Seville till early the next
1110rning. The prince descended, as before, at the snlall SUIDlller
palace, and leaving the princess there to take sonle repose and recover
fronl the fatigues of the journey, he proceeded to the city to announce
her arrival to his father and mother. 1 Marchabias and Ectriva were
charnled at his success. They ordered their most splendid equipages
to be prepared, and in a fe\v hours the \vhole court set forth to
conduct the fair stranger to the city.
MeantiIne Claremonde, having taken sonle repose and 1'efre8h-
nlent, went forth into the garden, where she amused herself ,vith
gat11ering flo\vers and weaving thenl into a chaplet, singing the ,vhHe
some extenlporaneous verses. As ill-luck ,vould have it, the Inalig-
llant Croppart was at one end of the garden culling sinlples, in llis
assumed character of a physician. Hearing a melodio-us voice, he
drew near unperceived, and .the first object that met his view was
his own wooden horse. He then looked 011 the princess, and thought
her still more beautiful than MaxiIna. Just then Claremonde gave
a sigh, and began to ,veep, crying: "Cleomades-beloved Cleolnades,
,vhere are you Could you have deceived me when you said you
,vere going in quest of thase who would receive me with honour 1
Haste-haste I-delay no longer! "
Croppart instantly fornled his plan. He approached the princess.
"Fair and noble lady," said he, "dry up your tears. The prince, on
arriving at the palace, finding himself unwell in consequence of
fatigue, said to nle, for I anl in his most secret confidence: 'J\fount
the enchanted horse -fly to her ,vhonl I adore, and bring her hither
with all speed.' He then taught nle how to manage hiln. So, lady,
mount, and I will with speed conduet you to the prince."
The unsuspicious Claremonde mounted the horse without hesita-
tion. 2 Croppart turned the pin, and they ascended into the air with
such velocity that the princess ,vas obliged to shut her eyes to avoid
1 After the first stretch, for the greater ease of the princess, he goes, with
many halts, by river or spring. Seville is reached at sunrise on a Tuesday.
He leaves her, at her own request, in a garden under the city walls, as she was
very weary.
2 In the 1\Iet. Rom., the golden man blows his trumpet loudly and in-
cessantly all the time Cleomades and his parents converse, to their great
surprise (11. 5652-5750).
Analog1tes of the Sq'nire's Tale.

bccolnillg dizzy. But ,vhen she at length ventured to look belo\v


and sa,v no signs of a city, but, on the contrary, forests, lakes, and
mountains, she bec:llne a,Yare of the oxtent of her Inisfortune.
Croppart, heellless of her reproaches, grasped her fair hands, and
turning the head of his horse frol11 the direction of Hungary, whither
he was at first proceeding, urged his course over Italy tovvards Africa.
Suddenly the princess gave a piercing cry, and Croppart found that
she had s,vooned away.
lie inInIediately nIadc the horse descend in a Inead, \vatered by a
fountain. He took her do\vn, and sprinkled her 'with water till she
revived. lIe then began to nIake proposals of love to her, declaring
that he had been so captivated by her chan11s that he had considered
every stratagelu lawful, but that it ,vas to raise her to the rank of
queen of Hungary that he had carried her off.
The princess, ,vho did not ,vant for quickness of intellect,
instantly replied: "Ah, sir, what are you thinking of 1 Would
you luake a queen of a poor peasant girl, whom Prince Cleolllades
purchased of her parents for his plea8ure?" 1 " No matter," said
Croppart; "your beauty luakes you ,vorthy of the first throne in
the universe." His respect, ho,vever, no,v in a great measure
declined, and he urged his suit to the princess in such a lllanller
that she began to grovv terrified. She had again recourse to art.
" Stop," said she, " or I shall expire before your eyes. I consent to
11lUrry you, if you will only wait till \ve C0111e to SOITIe to"'n where ,ye
nIay be legally united."
Croppart, Vl ho, bad as he was, did not ,vish to be needlessly
lo\vered in her opinion, assented to this reasonable request; and,
being nearly overcome by the heat and fatigue, he ,vent and plunged
his ar111S into the fountain. He also drank of the ,vater to quench
his thirst, and the cold of it ,vas so great that he fell nearly senseless
on the ground. 2 Clarenl0nde also sat down at a little distance, and,
exhausted by grief and fatigue, fell fast asleep.
1 In the metrical text, she tells him that she is of Lombardy, born at
Milan, of a silk-weaver, and had lost both parents this very year: she owes the
gown she wears to a charitable daule who had maintained her. Cleomades
was taking her to work for his sisters.
·2 IIalting by a spring, Crompart decides to leave the magic horse outside,
CZeornades and CZare1nonde. 397

In this state they were found by the falconers of the king of


Salermo, ,vho were in pursuit of one of their hawks ,vhich had flo\vn
a way, and had seen hinl alight at the fountain to drink. They \vere
not a lit.tle amazed at: finding in this lonesolne place an ugly little
hunchback, \vho ,vas breathing as if struggling against death, and
near him a lady of surpassing beauty lying fast asleep. They inll1le..
diately despatched one of their nunlber ,vith the strange tidings to
the king of Salernlo, ,vhose nanle was l\{endulus. 1
This prince, ,vho ,vas of a voluptuous character, inst1ntly
mounted his horse and rode to the mead, vvhere he found Croppart
and Clarenlonde in the sanle state in ,vhich the falconer had left
theln. The beauty of Clarelllonde astonished him, and for the first
time in his life, perhaps, he experienced love nlingled with sentiInent
and respect. On their avvaking he interrogated thenl. Croppal't
asserted that he was a free man; that he had fallen asleep at the
fountain; and that the young vVOluan ,vas his wife. Clarenl0nde,
being asked if this ,vas true, positively denied it, and implored the
king to protect her against hilll. l\{endulus had thenl both brought
to the palace. The horse, of vVhich he kne\v not the use, was not
left behind. The fair Clarenlonde ,vas assigned an apartnlent in the
palace. Croppart ,vas placed in confinenlellt; but the disorder ,vhich
he had caught at the fountain was so severe that he expired during
the l1ight.
Next Inorning Mendullls, all ill1patience, vvaited on Clarelnonde
with the offer of his hand. But the princess pretended to believe
that he ,vas only l1locking her. She told him that she was nothing
l)ut a foundling, picked up by sonle persons, ,vho gave her the llanle
of Trouvee [i. e. :Foundling], and had afterwards lnarried her to a
gentleman; but that the hunchback, was a great clerk and
physician, had carried her off, and brought her ,vith hinl fronl
coun try to country, vvhere he l1lade a great deal of Inoney by his
philtres and tricks of sleight-of-hand; so that he had kept her
for fear of attracting attention. It is evening, and Orompart is suddenly
seized with sickness, and is fain to sleep. No mention of a surfeit of cold
water, but sunstroke (H l11aladie de cha]our, li douloit li chies") seeU1S to be
meant.
1 l\Ieniadus, king of Salerno, in l\fet. ROI11.
398 of the Tale.

,veIl clothed and fed until the evening before, when he had beaten
and abused her ,vithout reason.
Mend111us, ,vho was a good sort of lllan, and not troubled \vith too
nluch delicacy, ,vas not at all repelled from the alliance which he
proposed by this frank eonfession. Having, for forln-sake, held a
council, composed of the c0111panions of his pleasure, and obtained
their approval of his design, he returned and announced it to the
princess. Claremonde no\v saw no other means of retarding the
marriage, which she dreaded, than to feign that joy had turned her
brain. 1 She comluittec1 acts of the greatest folly and extravagance,
and at length became so violent that the king found it necessary to
take llleasures for her cure, and he put her under the care of ten of
the nlost sensible and strongest WOlnen he could find.

The court of Spain was nleantime in the utrnost affliction. When


the king and queen arrived with Cleonlades at the sunlmer palace
they sought in vain for the princess Clarelllonde. Cleolnaues picked
up one of her gloves, but no other trace of her or of the enchanted
horse could be discovered. His parents brought hinl back to the
palace in a condition \vhich caused apprehensions to be entertained
for his life.
In the course of a few days came al11hassadors from the court of
Tuscany, and the royal fanlily were filled with shame at being
obliged to declare that they kne\v not what was become of the
princess. The chief of the embassy, however, who was a prudent
and sensible Inan, saw that reproaches would be cruel, and he set
about giving consolation to the prince. At the sanle time he could
not refrain £roln upbraiding him for thus giving himself up to
despair, instead of setting out' and searching the whole \vorld for a
princess so deserving of regret.
Cleomades felt his strength and courage revive at reproof;
and as soon as he was able to bear the weight of his arrns he
1 vVhen the king declares his intention of marrying her, she obtains a
respite for three 11lonths; and when but three days are left before the nuptials,
Claremolldine-who fears that if she should discover herself and be reRtored
to her father, he will Inarry her off-hand to the detested Bleopatris---ha8 no
resource but to feign that she is deUlented.
399
1110ullted a gallant steed and directed his course to\vards the kingdonl
of Tuscany, in the hope of there· hearing some tidings of his adored
princess. He reached the lofty mountains which surround .it, passed
through thenl, and it was far in the night ,,,hen he ca.nle to a castle
,vhich stood alone, where he resolved to request hospitality.1 As the
dra,vbridge was raised, he called aloud, and a Jnan answered him
froIn the battlenlents, and told him that it was the custom of this
castle that any knight who was entertained in it should next morn-
ing leave llis arlns and his horse, unless he were willing to singly
engage two valiant knights in arms. " The custom is a discourteous
one," replied Cleonlades. " It was established," said the other, "in
consequence of a traitor who was entertained here having assassinated
the lord of the castle during the night. 'Vhen his two nephe,vs
found him next nl0rning ,veltering in his blood, he Inade them
swear, ere he expired, to Inaintain this custom." 2
CleOlnades ,vas not to be daunted by the proposed terms of hos-
pitality. The drawbridge ,vas lowered; he entered, ,vas well received

1 Met. Rom. (1. 7825 fi.): l\:feanwhile Cleomades learns that Crompart is
also missing from Seville; guesses the rest, and the mere hope of recovering
his princess enables him to rise from his bed. Much to his parents' vexation,
lle determines to seek her over the world, and, with a retinue of 100 knights,
visits Brittany, Normandy, England, "Vales, Scotland; frOlll Dover crosses to
"Vissant, and, going through Germany, Hungary, Poland, reaches Greece at a
time when the Greeks are at war with Primonus [Prianl?], the king of
Chaldea. They seek his aid, and he helps theln to defeat and bring the
Eastern king to subjection, by a battle under Mount Arestain [l\farat.hon, says
Paulin Paris]. does not remain in Greece, but, loaded with honoura
and praise, tah:es leave of his would-be subjects and presses on his way, with
less than a third of the following he had when he left Spain (1. 9000). Alollg
the sea-shore, mourning for Claren10ndine, goes Cleoluades (9050), till, reach-
ing a port opposite Sicily (Sezile), he crosses and searches through the island,
but in vain. He puts to sea again, and reaches Venice, where he makes some
stay and Inany inquiries. It is but three da,ys' journey thence-by Pavia,
Ferrara, and Bologna-to Tuscany; but Cleonlades does not dream of going
there. Dllperceived by any but his chaluberlain, whonl he charges with
secrecy, he steals away from Mestre-the la·nrl terminus of Venice-at day-
break, to go by wild and unfl'equented ways (9220). His retinue haste back
to Spain, where Marcadigas dies of grief not long after (9400). No one can
hear of and his mother and sisters are distraught with sorrow.-
rides with great speed all day (he is not, however, going to Tuscany),
and by night reaches the castle of 1\'1ount Estrais (9490).
2 Oleomades, in the Met. Rom., is inforlned of the origin of this strange
custonl by one of the ladies, while at supper: "an arlned nlan once murdered
the lord of the castle and more than two hundred of both sexes."
LANE. D D
400 Analogues of the Squ/ire's Tale.
and entertained, and then retired to repose. 1 In the morning the
knight, who had done t.he honours of the house, required hilll to
surrender his arms or to fight. The prince forthwith mounted his
horse, grasped his lance, and rode forth to where t,vo arllled knights
awaited his arriva1. 2 Imlllediately the two charge hinl together;
their lances are shivered against his shield, but he renlains £inn in
his seat, while one of the knights is unhorsed, and his shoulder put
out of joint by the stroke of the prince's lance. 3 The other then
draws his svvord, and a long and dubious conflict ensues. At length
Cleomades proves victorious, and disaruls his opponent, WhOlll he
now finds to be a most valiant knight, vvhom he had met with in
his travels. They both go to the aid of the ,vounded knight, who,
on being inforlnecl of the illustrious naUle of his adversary, assured
.him that it ,vas against his ,vill he had aided to Inaintain that
iniquitous custonl; adding that he only regretted his vvound be-
cause it vvould prevent his undertaking the defence of a danlsel
vvrollgfully accuseu of treaSOll.
They cOllvey the ,vounded knights to the castle, and then
mades learns that the damsel is one of the princess Clarelnonde's
lllaids of honour. For on the arrival of Liopatris at the court of
Tuscaliy, three knights of his train had forthwith accused the three
ladies of honour of being accomplices in carrying off their nlistress.
The t,vo knights confess to Cleoluades that they are enamoured of
t,YO of the accused dalllsels, and the wounded n1an again bellloans
his inability to defend the life and innocence of his nlistress. " Ah,
sir," replies C16omades, "cease to afflict yourself. No one is nlore
bound than I to defend the fair Lyriade. 4 I will depart vvith your
cOlllrade, and trust speedily to restore her to you."
Clcomades, having selected a suit of plain arnl0ur,5 that he ll1ight
not be kno,vll, set out ,vith his conlrade 6 for the court of l{ing
1 After supper the minstrel, sings to his kitaire (citltal'a =
Pers. Sita-r = guitar), and he has no need to call for silence.
2 The two knights are: Durbant Dabel, the lord of the castle, and Sart,ans
de Satre. .,
3 It was not an uncommon occurrence in the be-praised age of chivalry for
two, and even three, knights to attack a single knight-ideas of " fair-play"
being somewhat obscure. 4 Lyades, in l\Iet. Rom. 5 Black arU10ur.
6 vVith Durbant, accompanied by Pin<;onlles, the minstrel.
Cleo1'nades and Cla1'·e1nonde. 401
Cornuant. On their arrival he halted in the suburbs, ,vhile the
knight of the castle ,vent for\vard to announce that two knights ,vere
come to undertake the defence of the accused clanlsels against the
three accusers. 1 Next lllorning the conlbatants appear in the lists.
The ,vard of onset is given: the knights dart forth and encounter.
The strongest of the chanlpions of Liopatris singly engages Cleomades,
'v hose lance penetrates his shield and corslet and enters his heart.
He then flies to the aid of his companion, whonl the other t,vo had
unhorsed. Ere long they cry for n1ercy and deliver up their s,vords.
According to the la\v of cOlnbat, the accused clalllsels are now pro-
nounced innocent and delivered to their defenders; 2 and mounting
their palfreys they set forth ,vith thelll, and acconlpanied by their
relatives, for the castle \VhellCe the victor-knights had COIne.
Cleonutdcs clisarnled hinlself, the damsels, to their great
surprise and joy, recognized in hitn the lover of the princess Clare-
Inoude. Their gratitude to hinl kne\v no bounds; but their inquiries
after their mistress awoke his grief, and they 111illgled their tearH
\vith his. All now began to consult on the nleans of obtaining
tidings of her; but none of the proposed plans seetHed to offer a like-
lihood of success. .A.t length an old knight said he kne,v at Salermo
an astrologer, ",vha sa\v the most secret things quite clearly."
Cleonlades instantly resolved to go and consult this sage; and ac-
cordingly, next morning, after taking leave of the lovers alid making
thern pl'onlise to COlne to Spain to hinl if he shoulJ. find his Clare-
luonde, he set out for Sa1e1'1110. 3
On his arrival in that city Clt30mades put up at an inn in the
suburbs.. His first care ,vas to inquire of the llost after the sage of

1 They lodge at an inn in tlle town, heneath Castle Noble (10,840). Cleo-
mades cannot bear to look fronl the inl1-windo\v upon OlaretnOlldine's home;
and, dissenlbling the reason, prays DUl'bant to find hitn another abode. Dur-
baut sends him to the castle of Vel'de Coste (Green Banl<), the abode of Lyades'
father, where ho would be welcOlne.
2 the disappointed suitor of Clarenlondine, admits the honour-
ableness of OleOnlaOeS.
3 No nlention of the astrologer in IVlet. Rom. Cleomades, accompanied by
Piuc;onnes the minstrel, takes the road to Rome, searching nlany countries, far
and wide. Pin90nnes informs him that they are approaching the realm of
l\ieniadus, king of Salerno, an honourable lord, who exacts no toll of merchants
or any others who will tell hhn news of strange lands.
402 Analogues of the Tale.
whom he was COllle in quest. "Alas, sir," said the host, "it is now
a year since we lost hinl; and never diu \ve regret anyone more;
for were he now alive he Inight be of the n10st essential service to
our prince, by restoring to reason the most beautiful creature that
ever lived, of whorn, though she is of low origin, he is so enan10ured
that he is resolved to marry her."
Clt30111ades- was filled \vith melancholy at hearing of the death of
the sage; and the host, to divert him, related the tale of the hunch-
back, l and how the king had met with that lovely creature, and how
herheaJ had turned \vith joy at the idea of being married to a king.
He- ended his narrative by what he deemed the least interesting part
of it, by telling of the wooden horse, which had been found
llear where the rascally hunchback \vas lying. When he l11entioned
the horse, Cleolnades thre\v his arn1S about his neck: "Ah, my dear
friend," said he, "both your fortune and mine are 111ade; for I possess
infallible cures for madness. Lead me at once to your prince ;-bnt
stay: as nlY arnlS lllight excite son1e suspicion, get 111e a false beard
and the dress of a physician. Depend upon my success, and on a
full half of the reward."
The host quickly supplied hhn with all that he required, and
then going to the court, announced the arrival at his house -of a
ll10st reno\vl1ed physjcian, 2 ,vho would undertake the cure of the nlad
lady. The king ordered hiln to be brought to court without a
1110111el1t's delay.
Cleomades, taking vvith hilll the glove of Clarel1l0nde, which he
had filled with some comnlon herbs and fio"wers, repaired to the
palace. 3 I{ing 1\1endulus hin1self conducted him to the apartnlent of
the fair patient, who, as soon as she saw hitn approaching, redouhled
her deUl0nstrations of frenzy. " Sire," said Cleolllades, "be under
no apprehension; I will soon 11lake her cahn." He then dre,v nigh
to her, and put her glove near her face, as if to nlake her s111e11 it.
1 i. e. Croppart, or Cl'ompart.
2 Not said to be a physician in 1\iet. Rom.:
. k'en Gascojgne manoit
Et k'en Sezile aIel' vouloit
Et estoit de Portugal nes-
"a Portuguese residing in Gascony" is what is Ineant.
3 lIe sleeps at the castle; in the morniug has an interview with the king.
Ole01nades and 403

Surprised at seeing her own glove, she looked sharply at the pre-
tended physician, and at once recognized Cleo111ades. Instantly she
becan1e quite calnl: she took his hand, a11d he felt the pressure of
love and recognition. "Doctor," said she, "your glove is full of
virtue, for it has done 1118 S0111e good. But as for yourself, poor
creature, I believe you are just as mad as I aUI. With all your airs
of ilnportance, I'll ,vager that my ,yooden horse kno\vs more than
you do. But, by the ,vay, I all1 afraid they ,vill let him die of
hunger. I wish they ,vould bring hilu here to dispute '\vith you.
o ho\v he ,Yould argue if he could get S0111e Seville oats to eat 1"
and she raised her eyes to heaven.
Her lovely countenance had no'\v resumed all its beauty. 1\1en-
dulns, enraptured, hut at the salne time grieved to hear her, as he
thought, talking more irrationally than ever, iU1plored the physician
to employ all his skill for her recovery. "I ,vill," replied he; "but
,\ve 111ust begin by giving ,vay to her little caprices and fancies. Fair
Trouvee," then continued he, "I have not the slightest objection to
argue with your horse. I have often before now dispnted vvith those
animals. It is, to be sure, no easy matter to convince them; but by
proper management one 111ay succeed in training them and making
theln useful. . Let theln lead in your horse then, and "--" Ha! ha!
you poor fool!" cried Claremonde in a fit of laughter; "my horse is
of another sort from those you are used to hold argunlents ,vith. Lead
him in! He will not hinlself be led; he likes to be carried by asses
like yourself. So go and fetch him, and then, if you dare, dispute
with him in my presence." Cleomades pretended not to understand
her. "Sire," said he to l\fendulus, "she has got some fancy, about a
horse into her head. Let one be brought out of your stables."
l\!Iendulus, ,vho thought himself now wondrous wise, replied: "I see
how it is. I kno'\v better than you what she wants"; and he
ordered the ,vooden horse to be brought into the garden.
" Fair Trouvee;" said he then with a smile, "you kno,v the horse
might dirty your chanlber. Come do'\vn \into the garden, and he
shall be there for you." "Ah," cried she, "you talk senRe, not like
this sprig of a physician. COlue, give 111e your arm and let us go
do,vn." She then caught Cleomades by the ear, as if to pull him
404 Analogues oj' the sTale.
after her j and all the court follo\ved, laughing at her acts of folly.
v'Vhen she saw the horse, she ran up and e111braced him. "Ah,"
said she, "how lean you are-they have half-starved you 1" and she
at once began to gather grass and flowers to feed hill1.
Cleonlades, showing the king a little phial, said: ""VVe nlust lose
no tin1e in making her swallow this." Clarelnonde instantly changed
her tone, and affected to feel great confidence in the physician and
his remedies. "0 thou great man," cried she, "mount this horse
with me, and take me a\vay froln this rabble, ,vho are torlnenting 111e.
You will find nly cure in the horse's ear." Cleoll1ades shrugged his
shoulders, as if he no\v doubted of her cure. But l\fendulus pressed
hinl to conlply \vith her whill1, and he hiulself placed her behind
hiIn on the horse. The prince, ,vith the phial in his hand, affected
to search the ear of the horse, and, ,vatching his opportunity, turned
the pin. The horse rose, like an arrow from a bo,v, into the air, and
all present uttered a cry of alnazement. "Mendulus," said the
prince, as they ,vent off, "I anl Cleon1ades, prince of Spain, and
this is the fair Clarelllonde, daughter of the king of Tuscany," and
they,vere soon out of vie\v. 1
1 Before going up to the castle, Oleomades charges his companion, Pin-
c;onnes, the minstrel, to salute Durbant and Sartan, with the ladies of their
house (Claremondine's three maidens), and bid theln conle at once to him in
Spain; he will himself send for l{jng Cal'mant (Cornuant). If he do this,
and all he loves will be made rich for ever (13,335). Meniadus
(Mendulus) demands an explanation fron'l Pinyonnes, who tells him the whole
history. 'rhe king listens patiently, and admits that he has been befooled:
"l\:'Ieniadus, the caitiff [good-for-nothing?] king," he exclainls, "lily name
,vilI be all lily life long. It is my rightful naute. I have justly deserved it ;
for never lived so caitiff a king as I, so God help me! "(13,770). Pin90nnes
tul{es the opportunity of getting his cange, and the morrow nlorn sets. out on
Cleomarles' palfrey, which the prince had given hhn. He is gladly WelC0111ed
at Verde Coste, and tells Lyades all that had happened; then goes to King
Carmant, and informs him to his great joy that his daughter is safe, and in no
less worthy hands than Oleolnades' (14,000). Pinc;onnes then returns to :Mont
Estrais, Durbant's castle, and tells him that the strange knight who had helped
them and had given his nanle as Mescheans (== Ill-luck 7) was no other than
the renowned prince Cleomades.
Meanwhile CleOlnades, unwilling to weary his beloved Clarenlondine, brings
the magic horse down in a fair and pleasant place where a fountain nlurnlurs
under a tree in the Ineadow slope, up and down which luany flowers were
blooming. There they have a long talk, and assure each other of their
unswerving fidelity. They eat and drink but little (for" pure love was their
ent'J'e'met "), and then Olaremondine sleeps near the tree, covered by Oleonlades'
cloak. He watches her with rapture, drinking in her beauty (" rose
Valentine and Orson. 405

Next lllorning the happy pair arrived at Seville. The nuptials


were inllllediately performed, and shortlyafter'\vards King Cornuant
canle, ,vith a part of his court, to visit his daughter. King Liopatris,
,vha also caBle, in disguise, ,vas so sluitten ,vith the charms of the
l>rincess nfaxiIna that he forthwith asked and obtained her in mar-
riage. Clay elllonde's maids of honour, and their lovers also, made
their appearance at the court of Seville, and all respired joy and
happiness. l

ICeightley has remarked that the name of Claremonde occurs in


the rOllla11ce of Valentine and Orson, it being that of the lady be-
loved by the gallant hero, and also that a magic horse figures in the
same work; but he has strangely overlooked a nunlber of incidents
,vhich have been evidently adapted froIn the story of et
C1Cl1·e1nonde. The magic horse is thus described in the twenty-first
chapter of a chap-book version of The Reno'wn'd History of Valentine
Clnd Orson, tlte two Sons of the E1nl)eror of Greece:
" Now you shall undel'stand, that ,vithin this castle ,vhere Cleri-
1110nd ,vas, dwelt a dwarf, ,vhom she had brought up from a child,
and lily made a covenant to share her face between them "). Hardihood
persuades him to steal a kiss, but Reason bids hhn suffer a while. The result
of the dispute is that he decides to hold by Reason. Then is Desire overcome by
Temperance. And when she wakes, it is from a dream of his saving her from
a lion and slaying it. This he interprets allegorically by his recent struggle.
Delighted, she grants him a kiss for reward, which having softly taken, he sets
her on the magic horse again. (Met. Rom.)
1 With frequent stoppages to repose his beloved, they at last arrive safely
at Seville on a Tuesday, and are received with the utmost joy (14,650). Letters
are written on parchment and on wax [tablets covered with wax 1J, and sent
throughout Spain (14,875). Everybody flocks to Seville. On the second day
after his arrival Cleomades hears of his father's death, and the mourning
causes him to postpone the nuptials for a little tinle. Meanwhile he sends a
" vallet" on his horse to inquire after King Carnlant ·with letters of love and
greeting (14,970), praying hinl to send Durbant, Sartan, Lyades, Florete, and
Gaiete, and not to [ol'get Pinc;onnes, his old friend. To the great feast which
he holds at Arainne [= Arena = Old Seville: the ancient Italica, birthplace
of Trajan, Hadrian, and TheodosiusJ are invited and welcomed l\:feniadus
(l\lendulus), his queen-mother, and his sister Argente; also his own sister's
spouses, lVlelocandis and Baldigans (15,478). The five kings overthrown by
himself and his father are also bidden (16,101). The marriage is elaborately
described (16,890 ft.), l\ieniadus-no mention of Bleopatris, or LiopatriR-
lllarries Marine (or 1\Iaxima); Carmant (who bas lost his wife) espouses
Ynabele (or Ectriva), now a widow; Pin90nnes is knighted; Durbant and
Sartan are made (l\iet. Rom.)
406 Analogues of the Tctle.
named Pacolet, being of n10re wit than stature, and who had by
study got a great insight into necromancy: by which art he com-
posed a little horse of WOOd, l in the head of which he had artificially
fixed a pin, that every tin1e he mounted him he vvould turn the pin
tovvards the place he would go, and suddenly he would be there
'\vithout danger."
In the thirty-fourth chapter the abduction of the fair Claremande
by the rascally King Croppart is thus adapted:
"Pacolet led Adrinlain [a great nlagicianJ to his chaluber; but
this proved fatal, for about D1idnight he enchanted all within the
castle, and anl0ng the rest Pacolet himself. After\vards he got the
wooden horse, and going to Clerimond, caused her to nl0unt behind
hill1; so by turning a pin, they suddenly arrived at the tent of King
Tompart. Being con1e, he called the King from his bed, telling him
he had brought the fa:r lady Clerilnond, whom he had stole from
Aquitain, and along with her Pacolet's horse. 'But,' says the }(ing,
, art thou acquainted with this horse 'Yes, long since, worthy King;
and by virtue of the pin, I know how to govern him.' IIaving illade
this known to TOlIlpart, he thought to make experience hirnself;
and taking Clerimond behind hitn, \vould carry her into his own
country, and there marry her.
" Adrilllain was present all this while, and tells hiln that if he
failed one jot of the true sense of the horse, that both he and the
lady were in danger. ' Fear not that,' quath Tompart, so turning the
pin, he flew swiftly into the air, and was t\VO hundred miles on his
journey, before the lady awaked from her inchanted sleep; who
seeing herself deluded, fell into a s\voon, which so affrighted I{ing
Tompart, that turning the pin, he set the lady down by the side of a
fountain, in order to comfort her. Being C0111e to herself a little,
she uttered these ,vords: 'Unhappy am I above all creatures! for I
have lost illy joys by this cursed treason. Alas! Valentine, 111y
love, cursed be he that separated us ! 1 , Lady,' said T0111part, ' leave
off these foolish words: Is it not better for thee to be lily vvife, ,vho
1 vVhy it should be described as "a little horse" is not easy to understand,
since we read subsequently that it carried three persons on one occasion. Per-
haps it had the quality, like SOlne enchanted steeds met with in fairy tales, of
lengthening itself, to accommodate any number of riders!
J!Y'alentine and 01 son.
lJ
407
anl lord of this jurisdiction, than to have a beggarly start-up, that
hath neither land nor li ving ' And at this he offered to kiss her,
but she hit hiln on the 1110uth ,vith her fist. 1 Tompart being enraged.
at this usage, caught her up and set her on the horse again, thinking
to go directly to his o\vn palace, but turning the pin the contrary
,vay, unexpectedly set her dO'wn at a large town in India. Clerinlond
by this tinle knew the horse to be Pacolet's, and began to renew her
lanlelltations; but TOll1part repriluanded her, thinking he had been
in his own country. But this fell out ill for him, for the news being
brought to the I(ing of India, he caused Tonlpart to be brought be:.
fore hinl, and ordered his head to be cut off forth,vith, in revenge
for the death of his brother, 'VhOBl Tonlpart forulerly had slain.
After this the lady ,vas led to the I{ing's palace, and entertained
with all manner of splendour and lllagnificence."
In the thirty-sixth chapter ,ve find the distressed lady hus re-
course to the saBle ruse as her nalnesake of the French ronlallce, in
order to avoid the un,velcol1le addresses of her royal captor:
" You heard already of I(ing Tonlpart's death, and Clerinlond's
tinle expirecl,2 she ,vas put to her shifts, to save her luaidenhead
frol11 the Indian I{ing; to ,vhich purpose she feigned herself nlad,
and she acted the nlatter so well, that all her attendants took her
really to be so, for none would come near her. The King lanlented
her exceedingly, and nlany ways were used to recover her, but all in
vain."
The lady's rescue has, of course, also been adapted fron1 the
French romance, though, unlike Cleonlades, her lover does not boldly
fly off with her in broad day and in presence of the I{ing and his
courtiers, but steals a,vay "vith her in the dead hour of the night.
1"'his is ho,v it is related in the fortieth chapter:
" .News being brought to Valentine of Clerill1ond, he resolved to
take shipping with the Indian merchant, 8.ttended only by his squire,
and after a long voyage arrived in that King's dominions, and there
put hiulself in the habit of a physician, ,vho undertook to cure any

1 The sweet creature! Claremondine adopted a policy more appropriate to


her sex.
2 That is, the period of grace before her marriage, for which she stipulated.
408 Analognes of the Squifre's Tale.

distemper, especially nlaJness. At last the tidings of his skill canle


to the King's ear, and t.hinking he lnight recoyer Clerirnond, sent for
hinl; and being at dinner, nlade hiln sit do\vn, anq. thus said: 'Sir,
I have a beautiful lady in my palace, \VhOlll I would fain make Iny
queen; but her being possessed with Lunacy, obstructs it j now if
you can restore her to her lost reason, I will give you whatever you
ask.' Valentine replied: 'Great King, I doubt not effecting it, so
your nlajesty grant my being alone with her all night, to observe
the nature of the frenzy; to which the King agreed.' No\v in the
nliddle of the night, Valentine espying Pacolet's horse, in a secret
place of the chalnber, and ,veIl-knowing the use of him, he ,vith
Clerirnond, and his squire, nlounted inlmediately, and rode through
the air to Angory, where they,vere joyfully received, and the mar-
riage rites performed. Next morning the Indian King 11lissing the
lady, he caused search to be made through all his doulinions, but to
no purpose."
It is \vorthy of note, that here the name of the king 'v ho carries
off Clareulonde is which is evidently a corruption of Crom-
lJa1't, the nanle in the original Inetrical romance, and this should
seenl to indicate that Valentine and Orson was composed befo're the
appearance of the prose version of Oleonzades.

In the entertaining rOlnance of Reynard the Fox, the n1a3ic horse


of Cl60nlades and his adventures there\vith are thus referred to by
Reynaru, vvhen he is enull1erating the priceless treasures he has lost,
among 'v hich ,vas a Inagic glass-see ante, p. 306 :
"The tree 1 in whiche this glas stode was lyght and faste, and \vas
named Cetyne,2 hit sholde endure ever, er it ,voId rote, or wormes
shold hurte it, and therefore kynge Salamon seelyd B his temple wyth
the same wode, ,vithynforth Men prysed it deerer than fyn gold; hit
is like to a tree of Hebenus,4 of vvhyche wade Kynge Cronlpart made
1 In old English, "tree" is used for wood. Thus in the fine ballad of
" John the Reeve" we read:
" His stirrops were of tree."
vVe still retain the term in "roof-tree," "boot-tree," and" cross-t'J'ee."
2 "Cetyne" is doubtless the 'shittim wood of the Bible. 3 CeHed.
4 Ebolly.-The horse in the metrical romance of CleO"mades is also of
ebony.
Reynafl'd the Fox. 400

his horse of tree for the love of kynge Morcadigas 1 daughter that
,vas so fayI', ,vhom he had ,vende for to have ,vonne. That hors ,vas
so made ,vithin, that 'VOSOlnever rode on it yf -he ,vo1de, 11e shold
be within lesse than an hour, an hondred myle thens; and that ,vas
,vel prevyd, for Cleonledes, the kynges sane, wolde not byleve that
that hors of tree had suche nlyght and vertne. He ,vas yonge, lusty,
and hardy, and desyred to doo grete dedes of prys, for to be renamed
in this world, and leep on this hors of tree. Cron1part torned a pynne
that stode on his brest,2 and anon the hors lyfte hinl up, and wente out
of the balle by the ,vyndo\ve, and er one myght saye his Pater N oster,
he ,vas goon nlore ten ll1yle ,vaye. Cleoluedes ,vas sore aferd, and
supposed never to have torned agayn, as thistoryc therof telleth
Inore playnly; but how grete drede he had, and ho'v ferre that he
rood upon that horse made of tree of Rebenus, er he coude kno'Ne
the al'te and crafte how he shold torne hynl, and how joyeful he ,vas
,vhan he kne,ve it, and ho,v nlen soro\ved for hynl, and how he
knewe all this, and the joye therof when he canle agayn, al this I
passe over for losyng of tinle."

Paulin Paris, in his letter to Keightley, says: "I am strongly


inclined to believe that the original fiction of is really
Spanish or l\Ioorish. All the personages are Saracens or Spaniards /
the is in Spain; the character of the fiction is akin to that of
the fictions of the East." I t is passing strange ho,v M. Paris could
make such an utterly un,varranted assertion as that all the characters
are Saracens or Spaniards, and not less so that Keightley, \vith Count
Tressan's extrait before hinl, could have cited it ,vithout question.
If we exanline t.he romance, ,ve shall find that in the prose version,
as represented by the extrait, the only characters that could be con-
sidered as Saracens are t,vo of the three kings who canle to Seville
with gifts to 1\{archabias and sought his daughters in nlarriage,

1 The king is called Marchabias in the prose ronlance, and Morcadigas in


the lnetrical version.
2 Here, I think, we have clear evidence that the author of Reynard tlte
Fo.1J followed the original nletrical romance, where the name is also Crompart,
and where lw-and not Cleomades, as in the prose version: ante, p. 388-
turned the pin.
410 Analogues of the Squirre's Tale.
narnely, Melicandis, king of Barbary, and Bardigans, king of
nia; t.he third being Croppart, king of Hungary. But· in the
nletrical romance of Adenes all three are decidedly Saracens of
Northern Africa: Melocandis, of Barbary; Baldigans, of :Thforocco;
and Crolupart, of Bougie == Bujaiyah; but the two first have no
part in the events narrated in the romance after their first appearance
at the Court of Seville, until the conclusion, ,vhen there is the usual
marrying and giving in nlarriage all round. The scene is seldom in
Spain: it is also in Tuscany (ante, p. 390); in Salernlo (p. 397);
in Greece (p. 399) note 1) and nlany other places. The Spanish
characters Inay be alnlost said to be "conspicuous by their absence."
Yet I quite agree with 1\f. Paris in considering that the original of
the French metrical romance was Morisco-Spanish, 'whether Adenes
derived his materials fronl Blanche of Castile (ante, p. 384) or
f1'on1 S0111e written source.
It has been conjectured that 1\farco Polo's 1"Travels suggested to
Chaucer the idea of his Squire's Tale, the scene of \vhich is at the
court of the khan of Tartary == J enghiz-klH:tn == Canjus-kan ==
Camius-kan. Fronl the general interest in the ]"ar East which \vas
created in Chaucer's tinle by l\iarco l)olo's Travels, the poet may
have been induced to lay the scene of his Tale in "the lond of Tar-
tary," and on the occasion of the public celebration of the khan's
birthday. " You must kno,v," says the V enetian traveller, "the
T'artars keep high festival yearly on their birthdays. And the Great
Kaan was born on the 28th day of the September 11100n, so on that
day is held the greatest feast in the year at the Kaan's court, ahvays
excepting that \vhich he holds on New Year's Day."-" The beginning
of their N e,v Year is the month of February, and on that occasion
the Great l{aan and all his subjects 111ake such a feast as I now shall
describe. It is the CUSt0111 on this occasion that the }(aan and his
subjects should be clothed entirely in "rhite; so that day every body
is in ,vhite, men and 'Yomen, great and snlall. And this is done in
order that they luay thrive all through the year, for they deenl that
white clothing is lucky. On that day also all the provinces, and
governments, and kingdoms, and countries that o"vn allegiance to the
Kaall bring him great presents of gold, and silver, and pearls, and
Ole01nades and the sTale. 411
gems, and rich textures of divers kinds. And this they do that the
En1peror throughout the year n1ay have abundance of treasure, and
enjoyment without care. And the people also make presents to
other of ,vhite things, and embrace and kiss and luake merry, and
vlish each other happiness and good luck for the ensuing year. On
that day, I can assure you, aUlong the cllstOl1lary presents there shall
be offered to" the I{aan from various quarters l1101'e than 100,000
,vhite horses, beautiful aninlals, and richly caparisoned." 1
The· nalIle of Cambyuskan's second son, Canlballo, is clearly
derived fronl Caulbaluc, the capital of Cathay, which Chaucer ,vould
also learn fronl lVlarco Polo. But there is nothing in the Venetian's
narrative at all suggestive of the First Part of the Squire's 1'ale, if
,ve except his description of the khan's celebration of the N e,v Year,
when the tributary princes sent him so rnany splendid gifts; but
"the king of Araby and Ind" o,ved him no allegiance, and, nlore-
over, it ,vas not at the N e\v Year festival but the khan's birthday
feast that the Indian ambassador calue ,vith his master's free-\vill
offerings. On the other hand, there existed long before Chaucer's
tiule the French rOlllance, to the beginning of ,vhich the First Part
of the Sqnire's Tale is very nearly related, and I cannot think the
resemblance rnerely fortuitous. It is true, there is an inlportant dif-
ference between the two, which, however, nlay be clue either to
Chancer himself, or to his having had before him another version of
the Cleo1nades story. In both cases the gifts are presented at the
birthday fes,tival (ante, p. 270 and p. 386, note 2); but in Chaucer's
Tale there is only one person ,vho brings the presents, fronl his master
the Indian king; in Cleomctdes three kings each bring a gift and in
return demand the daughters of the king of Seville in marriage.
l'he gifts are four in Chancer, three in the Romance; in both, two of
the objects possess sinlilar qualities, the horse and the mirror in
Chaucer, and the horse and the golden man in the Romance. If the
s\vord and the ring be of the poet's o,vn invention-,vhich I very
TIluch dOll bt-he is in this respect greatly superior to the author of
or its prototype, as the golden hen is a mere useless toy,
1 Yule's edition of Marco Polo's Travels, vol. i., book H., ch. xiv., p. 343 ;
ch. xv., p. 346.
412 of the Squ.iTe's Tct!e.
for it does not lay pearls in the metrical version. Another circum-
stance \vhich goes far to sho\v that Chaucer had before him a nlodel
such as is found in the concluJing verses, in which he
rapidly sketches some incidents of the rest of the Tale:
And after wil I speke of Algarsif,
How that he wan Theorlora to wif ;
For w hOlU I'ul ofte in grete peril he was,
Ne had he been hoJpen by the hors of bras.
"That can this mean, 'if not that Algarsif, like Cleollutdes for
Clarenlonde, to be in danger of his life because of his love for
Theodora, and finally carry her off on the nlagic steed As for
Canlbyuskan's ovvn exploits in winning cities-his "aventures and
batailes," the like of \vhich was never hearu of-and never will be
now, unless \ye accept ,T ohn Lane's" filling in " of Chaucer's outlines;
and the strange passage in ,vhich it is hinted that Calnballo is to fight
\vith " the brethren tuo" on behalf of Canace ;-1 say nothing; and
all the conjectural ,( explanations" I have seen leave the 111attcr aa
ll1uch in dou1t as ever. I sinlply hold fast by Algarsii's lovc-
adventures.

There is a curious wooJen-horse story which Prof. Kittredge seenlS


to be the first to point on t (Englische Studien, b. xii., s. 6, foo·t-note)
as being connected 1vith the r0111anCe of and \vhich is
given by Delrio, in Disquisitiones Magicae, lib. ii., q. 6, Venice, ed. of
1616, p. 102, £ronl Roberti l"riezi-i Inslllensis li. de technis et i1npos-
turis dae7nOrnt1n, c. 5: "De certulnille dUOrU111 magorum. Rapuerat
nnus puellanl fornla egregia et equo ligneo inlpositaln per aera ads-
portahat. Alter in castra quodam Burgundiae, celebri convivio
praesens, quod castrunl raptor praetervolabat, carrninibus cogit rap-
torenl in castri areanl descendere, et ilunlobileul illic coram omnibus
nlaestU1l1 cunl praeda erubescente sistit," and so forth.!
We shall see, as ,ve proceed, that in nlost variants of the Oleo-
1 "Of the strife between two nlagicians. One [magician] had seized a girl
of remarkable beauty, and having put her on a wooden horse was carrying her
off through the air. The other, who was in a castle in Burgundy, at a great
supper, which castle the ravisher was flying over, compelled the ravisher by lds
incantations to descend into the courtyard of the castle, and there to renJain
n10tionless and sorrowful in the presence of all, with his blushing prey."
Arabian Tale oj the Ebony lIorse. 413

'in-cules story a girl is carried off on a nlagic horse or son1e sin1ilar


contrivance, but this version is unique in representing the ll1agician
who perpetrates the high crilne and nlisdenleanour as being van-
quished by another magician-,vhether with good or evil intentions
does not appear in the passage cited by Prof. Kittredge, as above.

THE tale of the 1iagic IIorse in the A1Ytbian Nights, fauliliar to

every schoolboy, presents a striking resen1blance, save in a few Ull-


ilnportant details, to that of Prince Cleomades, and it is very evident
that both have been derived from one sonrce. In the Arabian story
a king of Persia, \vho has one son and three daughters (like the king
of Seville in the Hispano-French ronlance), and is keeping the festival
,of the New Year,! according to the ancient custom, ,vhen three sages
1 The" Nu Ruz," or New Day, one of the two great festivals of the ancient
Persians, the first day of the mont.h of Farwardln (JHarch), when the sun is in
Aries; the other festival is that of the Autumnal Equinox. Jamshid (B.O. 800)
established the feast of the ]{u R'uz, and it is observed by l\'t:uslinu;;. and
Armenians; the Jews, to be different, hold it ten days later. Nizanli, in his
Sillandal' Nd'ma, or Alexander-Book, tells us that the world-conqueror
Sate and drank wine on the feast of Nu Ruz,
Listened to the song of the singers;
Until the time of sleep, far from the king ,vould not be
The musician, nor the cup-bearer, nor music and wine.
(Olarke's translation, Canto xxii. 12, 13.)
On this day the king of Persia attended by his nobles and his army marches
out of the capital, reviews the troops, and receives tributes and presents, and
gives robes of honour to his courtiers.-" The exact periorl of con1mencing the
New Year," says 1\1rs. 1\1eer Hasan All, in her ObserraUons on tile
of Ind'ia, "is calculated by practical astronomers, who are in the service of
1110St great 111en in India. and according to the hour of the day or night when
the sun enters Aries. so are they directed in the choice of a colour to be worn
in their garmentB during this festival. If at midnight, the colour would be
dark puce, alnlost black; if at mid-day, the colour would be the brightest
crimson. Thus to the internlediate hours is given a shade of colours ap-
plicable to the time of the night 01" the day when the sun enters that particular
sign; and, whatever he the colour to suit the hour of the Nu Ruz, all classeB
wear the day's livery, fron1 the ldng to the meanest subject. 'Mubarak Nu
Huz l' (May the New Year be fortunate!) a.re the ternJS of salutation ex-
changed by all classes of society, the king himself setting the example. The
day is devoted to amusernents, H. public ureakfast at the palace, sending pre-
sents, exchanging visits, and so forth."
Among the Hinous, the great vernfll festival is held celebration of the
return of spring, and said to be in honour of Krishna and of his son KarnA.-
deva, the god of Love. It is identified with the HoU, or ])old-yot1'a, the
414 Ana1ogu.es of the Tale.

appear before hinl, and make obeisance. One of the sages presents
the king vvith a golden peacock, which ,vas so formed that when an
hour of the night was past it flapped its wings and uttered a loud
cry; another presents a figure of a nlan, Inade of gold and set vvith
precious gems, having in its hand a golden trunlpet, the peculiar
property of this figure being that if it vvere placed at the gate of the
city it \yould at once sound an alarlTI on the approach of an ene111Y ;
vvhile the third sage (\vho was of hideous aspect, as in Oleolnades)
presents a horse of ebony and ivory, vvhich could carry its riuer
,vherever he pleased. The king tests the qualities of the golden
peacock and figure vvith the trnnlpet, and being fully satisfied 'with
their performances, l then orders the t\VO first sages to name their
reward. They reply: "J\f.arry us to tvvo of your daughters." To
this the king at once consents, and his two elder daughters have nQ
objections, seeing that their suitors are vvell-favoured men. The
third sage now makes a sinlilar request-that he should have the
king's youngest daughter in 111arriage. But the king nlust first test
also the properties of the ebony horse, and grants his son pernlission
to make the trial. The prince accordingly nlounts the nlugic horse,
but it won't move. Then the ugly o,vne1' explains that he has sinlply
Saturnalia, or rather Carnival, of the Hindus, when people of all conditions
take liberties with each other, especially by scattering red powder and coloured
water on the clothes of persons passing in the street, as described in the play
of Ratn&vali, where syringes and water-pipes are used by the crowd. Flowers,
and especially the opening blossonls of the mango, would naturally be much
used for decoration at this festival and as offArings to the god of Love. It
was formerly held on the full moon of the month Chaitra, or about the begin-
ning of April, but now on the full n100n of Pha,lguna, or about the beginning
of March. The other great Hindu festival, held in the autumn, ahout OctoLel',
is called Durga-puja, being in honour of the goadess Durga."-Sir l\1onier
Williams' notes to his translation of KaJidasa's drama of Sakulltala, 0')' the
L()st Rin.q.
The Persian festival of the .A.. utun1nal Equinox was established by Farirlun,
in the In on th of Mihrgan (September), and is of two kinds: (1) jlIilw'gan-i-
kltassa, or the day Mihr, the sixteenth of the month Mihr, when the sun is in
Libra; and (2) lJfihrgan-i-'a,rJ}una, the twenty-first of the month lVIihr, on
which day FariJun captured Zuhak, according to Firdausi's Sluih Ndllla, 01'
Book of Kings. From one to the other, a period of sixty-days, the Persians
give themselves up to pleasure.
1 It does not appear how the king managed to test the qualities of the
golden peacock and the golden man: as the former gave notice when" an
hour of the n'ight was past," and the latter l>lew his trumpet on the approach
of an enetllY.
Arabian Tale of the Ebony Ho?"se. 415
ply to turn the pin that is fixed in the horse's head in order to put
it in luotion, ,vhich the prince does, and the steed instantly springs
up into the air and is soon out of sight, to the consternation of the
king and all his courtiers. Of course the sage is clapped into, prison,
pending the result of the prince's aerial excursion.
Meanwhile the young prince, after having mounted to a very great
height, discovers another pin in the head of the magic horse, on
turning ,vhich it descends rapidly and a.lights on the roof of a palace,
frOIn which the prince finds his ,vay into a chau1.ber of the harem,
where he sees a most be\vitchingly beautiful daulsel among her
female attendants. The prince novv acts very differently from' Cleo-
Inaoes in the like circumstances: he knocks dovvn the eunuch who
guarded the door, alid scatters the slave-girls right and left. He
then learns fronl the danlsel that she is the daughter of the king of
Yemen, and that this is San'a, the capital city ;--her father had but
yesterday refused her the ill-favoured king of India. When the
eunuch has" gathered himself together," the brave prince tells hinl
that he is the son-in-law of the king, ,vho had given hiIll pernlissioll
to come and introduce himself to his bride. The eunuch forthwith
proceeds to the king and' infornlS him of all this strange business,
and his nlajesty hastens full of wrath to confront the bold intruder
into the presence of his daughter. But the prince (unlike 01eo-
111ades) bullies the king, ,yha soon begins to change llis tone, and
treat him with courtesy - for the prince is evidently illuell the
stronger Il1an. Our hero then challenges the king to llleet hiln in
single conlbat for his kingdom, or, if he '\vould prefer it, dra\v out
his whole arnlY in battle array, and he ,vould encounter thenl. The
king adopts the latter alternative, and the prince lllounts his nlagic
steed and canters up in front of the troops. After putting his horse
through various exercises he makes it ascend and speedily reaches
h0111e. On learning that the sage has been thro\vn into prison the
prince causes hinl to be set at liberty, but he is not to get the
youngest princess in marriage, at \vhich the sage is secretly wrath,
and resolves to be revenged. l'ho conclusion differs little £ronl that
of and altogether the Arabian tale is 11luch inferior to the
Romance.
LANE. E E
416 Analogu£s oj the Sq1li1'e's Tale.

Qturkizll War-iant.
IT is well knovvn to such as are fanliliar with Eastern fictions,
that Turkish fables and popular tales have all been translated or
adapted fronl Arabian and Persian sources, but it is seldo111 that they
are inlprovements on their originals or lnodels. There occurs a very
singular of the story of the lVIagic Horse in a Turkish collec-
tion, ,vritten about the close of the last century by a Cretan nal11ed
'All 'Az{z, and entitled 'Phantaslns fro1n the .Presence of Goc1.'l
This is how the story begins: The king and his son, Prince N ez{l,
,vith all the nlembers of the divan, were assembled at a place half
an hour's distance fronl the city, in order to celebrate N e\v Year's
pay, according to the ancient cnstom of Persia. There they pitched
the tents, and spread out trays of food, and high and lo\v feasted.
For three days ,vere exhibited, with playing and singing and ear-
rejoicing melodies, all nUt11ne1' of strange and vvonderful sho\vs; and
with a thousand divers ganles and tricks they observed the olden
rules and kept the ancient rites. While they ,vere thus employed,
an Indian brought up to the royal tent a horse fashioned of pure
gold,2 and. in likeness of a hobby-horse, that he nlight sho\v the
wonder of its contrivance. vVhen they had looked at the perfection
of its fashion, the Inaian, its owner, said: "This thing hath a yet
more nlarvellous virtue, and it is this: when I Inount upon it, it
taketh n18 to "\vhat place soever I ,,,ould, and it acco1l1plisheth a three
111onths' journey in a single day." And he mounted upon it aDd rose
into the air, and alighted on a 1110und that ,vas over against then).
After tarrying there a brief space he caIne again and descended before
the king's tent, and all were astonied at the strange thing. 1"n8
king gave the Indian nlany gifts, and said to hinl: "Sell nle this
horse, and I \vill give thee therefor whatsoever thou 111ayest ,vish."
The Indian Inade ansvver, saying: "My lord, this horse came into
1 Ledu'n-i illalti-'i G'il'idU 'All 'Azfz Efendi.-I am in-
debted to 1\11'. E. J. "V. Gibb for the use of his translation (in manuscript) of
this curious, mystical work.
2 Here 'we have, as in Ohaucer, an Ind·ian. In the Arabian tale three
[WIles con1e with gifts, in Oleomades, we three kings. This agremuent of
the Turkish tale with Chaucer would seem to point to the existence in the poet's
tilne of a version of the story resenlbling the First Part of the Sq'wi1'e's l}de.
Variant. 417
the hands of thy slave by a hap, so that he kno,veth not the value
thereof; but it is very precious to him, and there is none could give
hiIn the price he ,vould say that he should sell it." On being asked
what he ll1eant by this riddling, he thus ans,vered them:
" I, your slave, anl a ll1an poor of estate, frolll alllollg dwellers in
the city of Lar. I gained llly livelihood by as s,veeper and
caller to prayer at the parish mosque. I had no one in the mansion
of the \vorld save one lonesome daughter, and I o\vned nought' of
that \vhich is called \vealth. One day, thirty'days agone, \vhen I
had perfOl'nled the afternoon prayer, and the congregation had
departed, an elder entered the 1110sque, and cOIuing up to 111e took
me by the hand. The two of us sat dOVill together in the 111iddle of'
the nl0sque, and he opened his nlouth and said: 'Brother, I have a
,voru to say to thee a little. I anl not of the sons of Adanl; I anl a
spirit, but I have C0111e purposing good to thee.' He sa,v that there
,vas in me no sign of dread, so he took me by the hand and led nle
to one of the caves \vithout the city, and sho\ved 111e this cunningly
devised horse. And first he pointed out to nle the device of it, how
to 111ake it rise in the air, and ho,v to nluke it descend, and ho\v to
stop it, and how to quicken it. Then he said: 'The price of this
horse is not in the \vorId. It passed by a hap into ll1y hands, but as
,ve are spirits it is useless to us. l\Iy desire is to barter it 'with thee.'
I smiled and said: 'I anl a poor Inan. I possess nothing that I
should make exchange ,vith thee.' JIe ansvvercd: 'Thou hast a
daughter. If thou ,vilt give her to me, I \vill give thee this; hut
.take heed that thou spoil it not, coveting the gold thereof; for if
thou knevv its \vorth thou ,vouldst barter it for a hundred tinles its
\veight in gold.' After 111uch thought the urgings of lust iInpelled
111e to acceptance, and \vhen he sa\v that I \vas \villing he took from
his pocket a pen-case and a piece of paper, and said: 'NO\V \vrite
this our exchange upon this paper.' And I vvrotc it and gave it into
his hand. Then saying, ' No\v take this horse and go to thy house,'
he vanished froIn before nle. vVhen I ,vent to lUy house I found
not a tTace of lUy daughter, and straight\vay I fell a-grieving that he
had C0111e and taken off nlY daughter, and I \vept ll1uch. 13ut
knowing that ron10rse would profit not, I bethought me thus: 'If I
E E 2
418 Analog1teS of the Tale.
show this horse in Illy own city, it is certain that I shall be straitencd
by their asking nle where I found it.' So having heard of your fair
and kingly qualities, I said to myself: 'If there be any ,vho win
know its \vorth, it is the king.' So I have brought it into your
presence. If you desire it, I request full ten tilnes its ,vcight in
gold."
N esil is at once enallloured of the 1vonderful horse, and
persuades his father, Kharezm Shah, to purchase it. The Indian
instructs the prince ho\v to nlanage it, and he nlonnts on its back,
and the horse ascends into the air. "Pull not hard," the Indian
exclain1ed, but the prince did not hear him, and was quickly out of
sight. The king was sorely grieved at his son's disappearance.-Thc
remainder of the tale recounts the Inarvellous adventures of Prince
Nes!l, who arrives at a large city, where there is a castle, ,vhich he
boldly enters, and finds in one of the chambers a young lady,vho
has been enchanted by a genie, who is in love with her. He
discovers the mode of doing a\vay the spell, and on the return of the
genie conlpels hilll to oboy all his behests, and in the end is duly
nlarriod to the dal11sel.

A 1110re clunlsy contrivance is the Flying Chair, in a story ,vhich


Dr. Jonathan Scott translated frol11 a frag1nent of an Arabic MS. text
of the Thousand and One Nights, procured in Bengal, and
in his Tales, Anecdotes, and Letters fro?n the Arabic and Persian:

THERE \vas forl11erly in Baghdad a curly-pated, avaricious fello,v?

who worked hard under an herb-seller, and by dint of pcnuriousness


becanle possessed of fifteen gold dinars,! ,vith the counting of 'vhich
ho anlused hilllself nightly. One day, vvhen he \yas ,valking in the
serai of I{halayl, there passed by a broker carrying a chair of \vooel
for sale. The labourer purchased the chair for fourteen dinars, but
after taking it honle becanlc discontented with his bargnin, and
roturned next day to the broker, saying: "Either tell 1110 the
}. .A.bout seven pounds and ten shillings.
Arabian Talc of the lllying Chai1". 419
properties of this chair or give 1110 back 111y money." The broker
took hiul to the Inan for ,vhom he had acted, who was a Jewish
Inaglclan. On being interrogated, he said: "The property of the
chair is this: whoever sits in it lllust take a green s\vitch in his
hand, and strike the chair with it, com111anding the chair to convey
him wheresoever he chooses, and it will do so in an instant."
When night fell, the labourer seated hilnself in the chair', struck
it with a green s,vitch, and ordered it to carry him to the terrace
of the sultan's palace. Instantly the chair ascended to the heavens,
until he heard the angels singing the praises of Allah in the Milky
V\Tay. Then it gradually descended, and alighted on the roof of the
palace. On entering he found the sultan's daughter asleep on a
sofa, and approaching, he kissed her hand. The princess at once
a\voke, and cried out in great fear: "Who art thou " Said he:
" I am 'Azra/il, the angel of death,! anJ am conle to take thy soul,
and the souls of thy father and thy 111other, and the vazlrs and the-
generals of the arnlY." The princess, greatly terrified, asked the
reason of this, to "which he replied that it was in consequence of his'
love for herself, but if her father ,vould marry her to him all their
liyes should be spared. The princess pronlised to acquaint her
father of this, and the ilnpostor, re-entering his chair, ,vas immediately
conveyed to his own house.
In the morning the daughter of the sultan told him of the angel
'Azra'il having visited her during the preceding night, and that he
required her for his ,vife as the condition of sparing their lives; and-
the sultan at once caused the marriage contract to be dra,vn up in
clue fornl. When it ,vas dark the impostor returned in his flying
chair, and finding everything done as he desired, appointed the next
Friday for the night of consummation, and he passed the interval at
his own house. On the Friday night he came in his chair, gaily
dressed for the occasion, and profoundly impressed the sultan and
his courtiers with his dignified appearance. The nlarriage was duly
consunlmated, and he spent several happy days with his beautiful

1 Muslims reckon four archangel's: (1) Jabra'il (i. e. Gabriel), who is God's
messenger; (2) Mika'il (Michael), who is the protector of the Jews; (3) Israfil,
who will sound the last trumpet; and (4) 'Azra'il, the angel of death.
420 A of the sTale.
bride, till, unluckily, an ignorant cook, being in \vant of firewood,
chopped up his precious chair for fuel.
The pretended angel, naturally fearing detAction after this
slipped out of the palace at nlidnight, and returned to his
home, vvhere he wept and bitterly lanlented his lost granddll'.
vVhile thus plunged in the sea of grief and vain regrets, the genie of
the chair appeared before hin1, touched by his Inisfortune, and
presented hiIn ¥lith a cap and a ring, saying,: "'vVhen thou puttest
this cap on thy head thou shalt be invisible to all eyes; and as for
this ring, should any trouble befaJI thee, press it and I will C0111e to
thee instantly, and do thy bidding." And he returned to the palace
without being discovered, as he wore the cap of invisibility; and,
buoyed up by the genie's prolnise of aid, he continued for son1e time
happy in the society of his royal spouse.
Meanwhile the vazlrs, having ascertained the real condition and
rank of the son-in-Ia\v of the sultan, disclosed the yvhole affair to
hilu, suggesting that, as a proof that the self-styled'Azra'il was no
impostor, he should be required to bring SOlne of the fruits of
Paradise. The sultan then vvent to his daughter privily, and bade
her desire her husband to bring fruits fl'OTIl the spirit-\vorld, \vhich
she did very \villingly; and her husband, going into another apart-
ment, sunnllolled the genie by nleans of his ring, \vho speedily
brought hiIn the required fruits.
Some tillle after this occurrence the sultan fell' in love \vith, and
purchased a beautiful slave-girl, offered for sale in the lllarket-place.
But scarce had she been placed in the royal harenl vvhen a prince of
the red genii, charnled by her sweet voice, carried her off to grace the
nuptials of his son. One of the vvedding guests, a hideous 'ifrit,
became enamoured of her, and in the midst of the festivities, seized
her in his arillS and conveyed her into his cave, \vhich ,vas in the
seventh depth of the earth. The aid of the "angel 'Azra'il" \yas
invoked by the sultan, through his daughter, and the obedient genie
of the chair, cap, and ring slew the 'ifrit aft.er a desperate conflict,
and restored the fair slave to her royal lover. But her charn1s soon
proved so attractive to the sultan that, shutting hiInself up 'with
he neglected the affairs of the state, in consequence of 'which a
Pe·rsian Tale of the Flying Ohest. 421
neighbouring prince invaded the country, and, lueetillg ,vith no
opposition, actually encanlped under the ,valls of the capital. In
this strait the sultan again had recourse to his son-in-Ia\v, ,vho, clad
in arlll0Ul', ,vith the cap of invisibility over his helulet, and attenJed
by the genie, who was also invisible, entered the invader's camp at
luidnight and utterly routed his troops. The prince 'hinlself was
taken prisoner by the sultan's son-in-la,v, and, ,vith all his treasure
and the arnlY equipage, led into the city, after the pretended angel
had removed his cap of invisibility. Then the sultan caused the
prince to be confined in one of the palace-to,vers, and ordered public
rejoicings to be held throughout his d0111inions; after which he
resolved to spend the rest of his life in cOlnpany ,vith the beautiful
slave-girl, and resigned his kingdorn to his sou-in-law, ,vho lived in
the ut1110st felicity ,vith the princess until death, the destroyer of all,
separated theln.

We have some\vhat silnilar incidents to 'those of the Arabian tale


of the Flying Chair in the "Histoire de Malik et de la Princesse
Schirine," in Les Mille et un JOUTS: Contes PeTsans, translated by
Petis de la Croix, Paris, 1710-12, 5 vols., of ,vhich the follu\:ving is
an abstract:

IN days of yore there d"velt at Surat a certain nlerchant, "vha at.


his death left all his ,vealth to his only son, nauled Malik. This
youth in a very short tilue spent nearly all his patrimony in riotous
living. It happened one day that a ll1an fro In Sarandib (Ceylon)
came to dine with l\1alik, and talked nluch to hilll of the pleasures
and advantages of travelling to foreign countries. l\falik confess-ed
that he did not no'\v possess sufficient means to allow him the
indulgence of visiting strange places, and renlarked that there were
the dangers of shipwreck on the sea and of robbery on the land to
be set against the advantages of travel. "I ,vill undertake," re-
joined his guest, " to provide you with the l11eans of travelling free
from all such risks." On tbe following day the stranger desired
l\1alik to order a joiner to make for hilll a wooden chest, six feet long
422 of the Tale.·
and four feet broad. 'Vhen the chest ,vas brought the stranger fixed
into it certain scrcvvs and springs, and on the third day, having
caused l\falik to send his slaves out of the vvay, he entered the chest,
'vhich instantly rose high in the, air, then proceeded some distance
very rapidly, and returned and descended on the spot vvhere Malik
stood gazing in astonishnlent, after vvhich he took Malik "with hilu
into the chest, and luade a short excursion through the air. The
stranger presented the vvonderful contrivance to l\falik, vvho gave hinl
a purse of sequins, and vvas sh?vvn hovv to guide the machine by
means of the scre,vs and springs.
In the course of a fe\v days Maliles creditors becanle very
clall1orous, and as a last resource he entered his flying 111achine at
night and escaped. After journeying through the air a day and a
night, he descended into a ,vooel, near a large city, where he care-
fully concealed his 111achine. Frolu a peasant l\falik learned that it
","as the city of Ghazni, the capital of King BahalTIan, vvhose daughter,
the beautiful Shirin, being threatened by her horoscope that she
should be betrayed by a strange rnan, he had caused a lofty palace
to be erected, with gates of China steel, of vvhich the sultan hilTIself
kept the keys, and they ,vere nloreover guarded by soldiers night
and day. rrhe sultan visited her once a week, and her companions
were her old nurse and sonle feluale slaves.
'Vhen it is dark 11alik enters his flying n1achine and descends on
the roof of the palace, vvhence he contrived to find his "\vay into the
of Shirin, whorn he discovers asleep on her couch. For a
thue he contenlplates her surpassing beauty ,vith rapture, then kneel-
'ing beside her, he kisses her fair hand, on which she awakes and
cries out in alarm. The nurse COllles into, the room and charges her
",vith complicity.! 1\1alik declares that he is the prophet MuhamnleJ,
and that, pitying her having to pass her life in a prison, albeit a
gilded one, he has resolved that she shall be his wife. They credit
his story, and Malik quits the princess before daybreak. Having
procured a supply of food sufficient for eight days, and sonle fine
clothes, he passes all the succeeding day in the wood, and at night
1 The nurse might have known that the cries of the princess betokened
her innocence-but n'i1Jl;poJ'te!
Persian Tale of the Flying Chest. 423

again visits the princess, \yho asks hinl: "Ho,v CaBles it that you
look so youthful I al'Nays understood that the Prophet was a
venerable old nlan." Quoth he: "So I do sOl1letimes appear to the
faithful; but I thought that you would prefer to see me as a young
nlan." 1
Thus several days are passed very pleasantly-Malik taking care
to leave each 1110rning before dawn-when the sultan comes to visit
his daughter, "vho is rather vexed to see hiln. She tells him at last,
however, that he is father-in-Ia\vof Muhammed. " Nonsense," ex-
claims the sultan. " Alas! I now see ho\v useless it is to strive
against the decrees of fate. Your horoscope is fulfilled. A traitor
has seduced you!" So snying, he rushes out of the room and
searches everywhere, ,vithout ilnding any trace of the impostor. He
sumnlons all his nlinisters, and tells theul of the ,heavy calanlity that
has befallen both himself and his daughter. The chief vazir says
that the alleged Inarriage TIlay have actually taken place, although
the story has all the appearance of a mere invention. Great faulilies,
he adds, have before attributed their origin to sinlilar events. l\fost
of the other ministers professed to be of the salne opinion; but one
said that he ,vas surprised to find the slightest degree of credence
placed in such a story ;-"vas it likely that the Prophet, an1idst the
huris of Paradise, \vould seek a bride on earth 1 He ,vas of opinion
that the sultan should institute a thorough search for the inlpostor.
The sultan dismisses the ministers, saying that he ,vill stay all
night ,vith the princess, and investigate this Inatter hilllSelf. Shirin
tells hinl that her husband "\vould never eat anything while with her
-itself a proof that he is "vhat he represents himself to be. As the
usual hour for the impostor's visit draws near, the sultan seats hiln-
self in his daughter's apart111ent, "vith a lighted taper and a naked
s"vord in his hand, determined, if necessary, to ,vash out the stain
on his honour ,vith the villain's life-blood. Presently it happens
to lighten, and a flash dazzles the sultan, 'vho concludes that the
1 Malik, if not the princess also, should have known that in Paradise the
faithful· are blessed with perennial and vigorO'llS young manhood, since the
Prophet has not only promised that each of the faithful is in those happy
regions to have s8lwnty of the hurlS, or black-eyed beauties, but that be shall
1.>e endowed with the strength of set'enty men.
424 Analog1les of the Tale.

lightning indicates the descent of tlH3 Prophet. .A. t this 1110n1ent Malik
enters, and the sultan, instead of being enraged, is struck with awe,
and, dropping his scilnitar, falls prostrate and kisses l\f.alik's feet,
exclairning: "0 great Apostle! what am I, to deserve the honour of
being your father-in-Ia'w!" Fun of gratitude, the sultan then dis-
creetly ,vithdraws from the apartment, leaving the princess "\vith
'who passes the night ,vith her as usual, and departs before
the first rays of the sun begin to illulnine the horizon.
The vazlrs are again sent for and infornled by the delighted
sultan that' the princess Shll'ln is really tlle spouse of the Prophet,
but they do not creclit such a very iIuprobable story. But one of
their nunl her, returning honle, falls fronl his horse and breaks his leg,
and his colleagues look upon the nlischance as a punishnlent for his
ill1pious incredulity. The sultan gives orders that all the city be
decorated, .and public rejoicings be held in celebration of his daugh-
ter's nlarriage ,vith 1\1uhanuned, the Apostle of GOll. vVhen l\falik
returns at night, the sultan tells hinl of the accident to one of his
lllinisters, and Malik declares that it 'will in future cost the life of
any doubter. The sultan takes his vazirs before the princess next
day, and begs her to intercede ,vith the Apostle for their pardon, to
,vhich she generously consents.
By this tinle Malik has eaten up all his provisions in the \vood ;
the H Prophet" is actually reduced to as great straits for a meal as
ever "ras beggar going about fron1 house to house. So he says to the
princess: "l\1:y beloved, you have 0111itted to give 111e a dower."
"True," she replies; "but I will speak of it to l1ly father in the
morning." " No, no; there is no necessity for doiug so. I do not
care for ,vealth-it is of no use to me. Sufficient \vill it be if you
give lUC 80111e of your jewels." The princess ,voulcl readily have
gi ven him all that she possessed, but JYIalik contented hiulself ,vith
two large dian10nds, ,vhich he sold to a je,veller next day.
J\1alik has enacted the part of the" Prophet" for about a n10nth,
,vhen an alnbassador fronl a neighbouring king arrives at the court
of Sultan Bahaulan to denland the princess Shirln in nlarriage. The
sultan informs him that his daughter is already married, and to no
less a personage than the holy himself. The ambassador
Persian Tale oj-' the Flying Ohest. 425

thinks the sultan is 11lad, and returns \vith the strange ans\ver to his
royal master, \vho dOC111S it an insult, and at once 1l1usters his ar1l1Y
and marches to attack Ghazni. Sultan Bahanlan is in despair, for
the invader is 11101'e powerful than he; but bids the princess
tell her father thqt he \vill give hiIn his aid in defeating the e11enlY.
IIaving filled his flying chest vvith stones, he goes up into the air
about the Iniddle of the night, and descending close to the foreign
king's tent unperce:ved hy the sentries, peeps insille, and seeing hilll
asleep strikes hinl on the forehead ,vith a stone, wounding hinl
severely; after \vhich he again ascends in his chest, and sho\vers
stones on the troops belo\v, ,vhoall fly in dis111ay, leaving tents and
equipage behind thenl. The invalling king is, ho\vever, taken
prisoner; and 1\Ialik, to signalize the victory, prepares SOlne fire-
,vorks on -the follo\villg day, and taking them ,vith him in his chest
at the darkest hour of the night he goes very high into the air,
,Yhere he lights then1, \viih very good effect. In the 1110rning he
goes into the city, to hear what the people are saying a.bout his
pyrotechnic display. S0111e are s,vearing that they actually sa¥l the
" Prophet" an1idst sho,vers of llleteors, and so 011. All this delights
J\falik very rnnch, of course; but in the 111eantime his precious chest
is burning in the ,vood. A spark of a firework had sOlllehow caught
the chest and s1110ulJered until the nlorning breeze fanned it into
f!a,nles. vVhen 1\lalik discovered the extent of the ealalnity he rent
his clothes and beat his face. But all in vain: he 111USt novv seek
his fortnne and so he departed ,vith a caravan for Cairo,
where he became a vveaver. l
1 "0 nlost lame and impotent conclusion! "-Hans Andersen, in his
Danish collection of fairy tales, has re-cooked this tale for the special benefit
of youngsters; his version is therefore valueless for purposes of cOlllparison:
A lllerchant's son squanders all his heritage-all but four shillings, a pair of
slippers, and a dressing-gown. One of his friends sent hiln a trunk, and as he
had nothing to pack into it, he went inside of it himself, and the 1110nlent he
had closed the lid the trunk flew up the chinnley and soared far above the
clouds. He alighted in Turkey, and hid the trunk under leaves in a wood.
IVleeting a nurse and child, he asked who lived in yonder castle, and waR told,
the king's daughter, of whom it had been predicted that she should be unhappy
through a lover. fIe reaches her chanlber window in his trunk, is adluitted
by the princess, and tells her that he is a TU1'lti.r;;!t god, and so on. Needless to
say that this tale is not Danish, but probably derived fronl either the Arabian
story of the Flying Chair, or the Persian story of the Flying Trunk.
426 Analogttes of the Sqruirre's Tale.

There is another Persian version \vhich occurs in a collection by


an author of \vhom nothing seenlS to be kno\vn, except that he was
70 years of age when he made it, and that his nalne was lVluhal1l111ed
I{azinl bin Mirak Husain lVfuzaffari Sajavandi, poetically surnall1cd
IIubbi. l'his collection, \vhich is described in Dr. Rieu's Catalogue
of ]Jersian .ltIanusct·ipts in the British vol. ii. pp. 759,
760, Or. 237, has no specific title, but is 11lerely called II1?aJyat-
i 'AJib 'it Gharib, vVonderful and Strange Tales, and it lllay have
served as the 11lodel of the Turkish story-book, Al-I/'arC{j ba'd al-
Shiddah, Joy after Distress, nlany of the tales in both being identical,
and the story in question being No. 13 of the Turkish 1\1:8. 375, in
the Bibliotheque N ationale, Paris. This is an abstract of the

A WEAVER and a carpenter, in Nishapllr, are both in love with the


saUle girl. For her sake each nlakes a nlasterpiece of his craft; the
weaver, a seau11ess shirt, and the carpenter, a Inagic coffer. Induced
to try the coffer, the weaver enters it, and on turning a peg finds
himself flying up to the sky.I llaving bethought to turn the peg
the other "vay, he rapidly descends and alights in view of a castle in
\vhich the daughter of the king of Onlan is jealously kept uncler
seven locks. Coming down upon the roof at night, he finds the
princess in bed, and declares that he is the angel Gabriel, to 'VhOlll
she has been given by God as his bride. He becomes her accepted
lover, and visits her in the SalTIe way every nighte At length the
king is told of this vvonderful occurrence, and accepts his celestial
son-in-law. He is confirnled in this belief by farther evidence of his
divine po\ver: "Gabriel" crushes the head of an unbelieving courtier;
ho puts to flight a king "rho clainlec1 the hand of the princess, first
by bOlllbarding hiln and his arnlY with stones, and then by sho,ver-
ing fire down on his camp_ On the latter occasion, hovYever, the
Dlagic coffer is accidentally burnt. " Gabriel" is reduced to the
necossity of earning bread by his old trade. In this 1111111b1e con-
dition he is recognized by the princess, and he explains that he has
1 The carpenter apparently wished by this means to get rid of his rival.
Pe1"sian Tale of the Weaver as _Gab?"iel. 427

incurred the displeasure of the. Almighty and that the gates of


heaven are for a time closed to him. At this juncture a ne,v eno111Y
appears. The unwilling" Gabriel" is clad in arnlour and put upon
a horse. The fiery steed rushes '\vith hinl on headlong career into
the enemy's canlp, knocks down a tree, ,vhich crushes the hostile
king, and finally falls into a pit, where "Gabriel" is after"wards
found half-clead. In the end he confesses his deceit to the king,
who, grateful for past services, condones the offence and keeps the
secret for hinlsolf. 1

We shall probably find the prototype of the different versions in


a,tale in the Panchatantra, Book I., Fab. 5, Benfey's Gerll1all trans-
lation, ,vhich is now to be presented in English for the first tinle.
The Panchatantra (Five Chapters) is a Sanskrit version of the cele-
brated collection known in Europe generally as the Fables of Pilpay,
or Bidpal. About· the year 531, an old Indian book of fables and
tales was translated into Pahlavi, the ancient language of Persia, by
order of King Nllshirvan, surnanled the Just, and entitlccl ]{alilag
and Da1nnag, from the nanlCS of t,vo jackals ,vho play a leading part
in the first section. From Pahlavi this work was translated into
Syl'iac, about 570, and into Arabic, under the title of Kalila Wet
Dhnna, by Ibn Almukaffa, about the year 754. Froln the Arabic, a
Greek translation, entitled Ichnelates and StelJhanites, ,vas 111ac1e by
8in1eon, the son of 8eth, in 1080. Two Hebre\v versions \vere 111ade
frOll1 the Arabic or the 8yriac, both in the 13th century, one of which
is anonymous, the other is by Rabbi J oel. In 1168 a Persian trans-
lation, from the Arabic, ,vas mac1e by N asr-'ul1ah. Di1'ectoTiurn Hu-
vitro is the title of a Latin version by John of Capna; and
an Italian translation, by Doni, ,vas rendered into English under the
1 There is a story, conlmon to most European countries-but I cannot
Jocate it anywhere at present-in which a lucky in1postor, ,,,ho had got a great
reputation for strength and courage, through a s61'ies of mere accidents, is
compelled by the king (whose daughter he had 111arried) to go and attack an
invading army single-handed. He is tied down to the saddle of his who
rushes gallantly to the attack, and the" hero," in sheer desperation, lays hold
of a branch of a tree which COlues off in his hands, and grasping it tightly he
approaches the hostile troops, who fly in disll1ay at seeing a man wielding such
a fOl'nlidable weapon; and the repute of this favourite of fortune is ever after-
,vards beyond the sneers of envious courtiers.
428 A nalog7teS of the sTale.
title of .lJloral Ph ilosO.IJhy of Doni. Another Sanskrit version of this
fal110US ,york is the lIitolJaclesa (Friendly Counsel), but neither it nor
the Panchatantra can be considered as representing the text \vhich
,vas done into the Pahlavi language, if \ve rnay judge by the Arabic
version. The follo\villg tale is peculiar to the Panchatantra.: I have
added 80111e explanatory notes to the tralls1. tion, which has been
kindly furnishe<l to lue by 111'. Tho111as Davidson, ,vho is enriching
the l1e\v edition of Charnbers's Encl/cloj)(edia ,vith able articles on
folk-lore subjects:

Jin:hu menn£r fuga pcrzonattu


tb,c btit!r Wiz qUtt.
IN a certain place there d\velt t\yO friends, a ,veaver and a
carpenter. They ,vere very rauch attached to each other fro111 their
childhood, having always lived in the san1e neighbourhood. Once
there happened to be held in the tenlple of the gods a grand festival,
in the C011rse of 'which there ,vas a procession. Actors, dancers, and
singers ,vere there in great nun1 bel's, and people fronl '. dilferell t
countries had asseUlbled. N o'v as the fl'iellds ,vere Inakiug their
,vay through the CTo\vd, they perceived on a young el,ephant the
daughter of a king, ,vha had C01ne, attelllled by eunucl1s and other
servants of the harem to behold the inlages of the gods. The
,veaver, immediately on seeing her, ,vas struck by the arro,v of the
god of Love,1 and fell to the ground as though he had taken poison
or sonle evil denlon possessed hinl. The carpenter, when he sa,v him
in this plight, fel t syn1pathy ,vith his pains, and had hinl lifted up
hy strong 111en and carried to hjs own house. There, by the agency
of divers soothing draughts ,vhich the physician had prescribed, and
by the aid of conjurors 2 also, he was after a long tilne and ,vith
difficulty brought back to consciousness. Then the carpenter inquired
of him: "0 friend! 1vhy didst thou s\voon a,:vay without any cn.tlse 1
1 Kamadeva, the Hindu Cupid. His poetical name is Ananga, lit., incor-
poreal. lIe is represented as a beautiful youth, sometimes conversing with
his mother and consort, Rati, in his gardens and telllples; sometinles riding
on a parrot, or lol'y, and attended by dancing-girls or ny111phs, the foremost of
w horn bears his standard, on which is a fish on a red ground.
Professional exorcists of dmllons.
429

Tell 111e, and' speak. the truth." The other replio<l: "If thou ,,,,ilt
hear it f1'0111 n18, ,ve 111USt be alone, so that I 111ay speak ,vithout
concealing anything." 'Vhen this ,vas brought about, he said to
hin1: "Dearest, if i11 truth thou lovest nle as a friend, do n1e the
kindness to carry,voo<l for 111y funeral fire. Do as I desire; for ,vhat
is done for the sake of a little affection cannot be out of proportion
to the abundance of thine." But the other ,vhen he heard this said,
"\vith tears in his eyes and ,vith a broken voice: "Whatever lnay be
the course of thy suffering, do thou declare it, so that help lTIay be
provided, if possible j for do not th,)y say:
'The egg of .Brahnlft in this world contains nought but it lllay
be set to right by herbs, luoney, counsel, and prudence.' 1
If, then, it can be rel1ieJied by these four, I shall rell1edy it." The
weaver replied: "Against these 111y snfferings neither those four
reuledies nor a thousand others can avail. Therefore retard not nlY
death." The citI'penter said: "Dear friend, let nle kno\v neverthe-
less, so that, if I cannot bring help, I lllay perish in the flaules \vith
thee. Separation I could not hear for a single nl01uent. That is
llly firln resolve." The ,vpaver said: "Friend of l1ly youth, listen,
then. Imnlediately "\vhen I had beheld the king's daughter on the
elephant I ,vas reduced t.o this condition by the enlinent deity ,yha
.bears a fish in his banner; 2 and no,v I cannot bear this torll1cut.
as it is sai{l :
'vVhen shall I sleep, 'weary ,vith this battle of love, llly breast
sunk bet\veen a pair of 111ilk-,vhite 1110ist "\vith saffron, and
roull<l like the globes of the love-ardent elephant, caged up in her
anils, and but for one nl0111ent blest ,vith her enlbrace 7'
Allll thus:
, rrhe red bil1lba-like lips,3 the chalice-like boson1s, s\velling in the
priJe of youth, the deeply-sunk navel, the bent lotos-flo\ver of the
yoni, the dainty narro,vness of the waist-luay well bring suffering
1 The egg of Brahnla, the first of the Hindu triad: the egg is the world,
the orphic or munrlane egg which floated amidst the water before the creation,
and froIl1 which Brahnla, the ill'st-1Jorn, according to sorne legends, elnel'ged,
out according to othel'R, Inerely resolved itself into the upper and lower spheres
-vVilson's IIindu ii. 58.
2 I. 8. the god of Love·-Kamadeva.
3 Bitnba, or vimba = the Jl'l'!Jon:ia {/1"anrlis.
430 Analogues of the SquiTe's Tale.
to the inlpassioned heart; but that her fair cheeks should ever and
ever consume me, that is not ,veIl.' "
But the carpenter, when he had heard this tale of love, said
s111iling: "Friend of my youth, if that is the cause, our goal is easily
reached: even this very day shalt thou be "Tith her." l"'he vveaver
said: "When nothing but the \vind can enter the maiden's chamber,
and guarded as it is moreover, ho\v should a llleeting be possible 1
Why \vouldst thou deceive nle 'with an untruthful tale " 'rhe
carpenter said: "Friend, thon shalt see the povver of Illy cunning."
'Vhen he had said this, he forth"with constructed from the timber of
the Vayudsha-tree 1 a Gal'uda llloving on a pivot; also tvvo pairs of
arnlS, furnished with the shell, the discus, the club, and the lotus, to-
gether ,vith the diadelu and breast-je\vel. He then 111ade the weaver
bestride it, and having thus fitted hiIll with all the attributes of
Vishnu,2 he showed him the nlode of vvorking the pivot, and said:
" Friend of nlY youth! go at luidnight in this shape of Vishnu to the
111aiden's chanlber, who dwells alone at end of the palace having
seven storeys, win her love '\vith feigned words, as in her inexperience
she will believe thee to be Vasudeva,3 and so lllake her thy OWll."
Then the weaver after hearing this ,vent thither in such shap8,
and said to her: "Art thou asleep or a"wake 1 For thy sake have I
CaBle in nlY own person fronl the nlilky \vay of Love, leaving Lakshnli
behinc1. 4 C0111e, then, to IUy arnls." When she sa\v hilll riding on
the bird Garuda, ,vith four arnlS, with ,veapons, and the breast-je,vel
of Vishnu, she rose in astonishnlent frol11 her couch, folded her hands
reverently, and said: "0 lllighty one! I am an ill1pUre, \vornl-like
mortal, and thou art the object of adulation, and the creator of the

1 Benfey says: "I do not know any tree which is called the Vayudsha.
May it not be an enchanted tree, formed in a wonderful nlal1Uer? (See the
nlagical spel1s in the VetfLlapanc!tavi'ilsati, in Lassell, Antlwl., 36, 37.)"
2 Vishnu is the second deity of the Hindu triad. lIe is worshipped by
sixty milHons of the people of India, as the personification of the preserving
power. Vishnu is represented as riding on the Gal'uda, a mythical birrl of the
vulture species, half-man, half-bird; in one of his four hands he holds a lotus,
in another a club or mace, in another a conch-shell, and in the fourth a dis-
cus ;-thus our hero was thoroughly equipped for the personation of this deity.
3 Vasudeva is one of the many names of Vh;hnU.
4 Lakshmi, the sea-born goddess of beauty and prosperity, consort of
Vishnu, obtained by hhll at t.he churning of the sea.
lIindu PTototype. 431
three \vorlds. How can such a thing be 1" The ,veavel' said:
" Blessed one! what thou sayest is true. But ,vas not lTIy spouse,
of the name of once born in the house of Nauda 1 1 She has
embodied herself in you. Therefore have I c0111e." The other said:
" If such be the case, prefer thy clailn to 111Y father, that he n1ay give
TIle up to thee without any deulur." The weaver said: "Blessed
one! I do not allo\v lllyself to be seen by men, far less con verse ,vith
thenl. "fherefore deliver thyself up after the manner of the Gan-
dharva. 2 If not, I will pronounce a curse to reduce thy father and all
his falnily to ashes." Having thus spoken, he alighted fronl the
Garuda, took hold of her left hand, and led the frightened, abashed,
and treInbling lllaiden to the couch, and after caressing her all night
according to the teachings of Vatsyayana, 3 ,vent home in the dawn
,vithout having been observed.
"rhus the ,veaver passed sonle time in constant intercoul'se ,vith
her. One <lay, ho,vever, the servants of the harenl noticed that her

1 Riirlha was the celebrated mistress of Krishna (an incarnation of Vishnu),


and wife of Ayana-Gosla, a cowherd of Gokal. Nanda, the cowkeeper, was
foster-father of Krishna, who was brought up in his house.
2 In Hindu fictions it is quite a common occurrence for a wandering prince
,vho has been sn1itten by the charlns of S0111e beauteous dalnsel he chances to
meet to espouse her by the" Gandharva" forln-that is to say, without the
usual ceretnonies. It was supposed to be the form of marriage-if a forn1 it
could be tern1ed-which prevailed among the nymphs of Indl'a's pai'aoise,
Armaravati. In the Hindu dran1a of Sakilntala, the king n1arries the fait
heroine by this forn1, explaining to her that
" In Indra's heaven (so at least 'tis said)
No nuptial rites prevail, nor is the bride
J.Jed to the altar by her future spouse
But all in secret does the bridegroom plight
His troth, and each unto the other vow
l\'Iutual allegiance. Such espousals too
Are authorised on earth, and many daughters
Of royal saints thus wedded to their lorJs
Have still received their father's benisOll."
Sir l\lonier VVilliams, froll1 whose of KaJidasa's great dran1a theRe
verses are taken, says that in the Second Book of l\lanu (v. 22) the Gandha1"ra
is included among the various nlarriage rites, and is said to be a union 1']'0.
3eeding entirely from love, or Inutual inclInation, and concluded without any
religions service, and without consulting relatives. .
3 Vatsyayana (5th century H.C.) was the author of the I{ama S l d1'C/;, or
Aphorisms of Love, fron1 which have Leen derived Jl1any similar works on the
art of such as the .Anflll{/(t .Ranga, ill Sanskrit, the Lizz(d en-Nisa,
ascribed to the Persian Nakhshabi, and several ill Arabic, such as KitfLb 1'ld'n'
e.')h-81taykit Ma Si by Ibn K.anull Bashu.
I1ANE. F F
432

coral-like under-lip showed traces of bites,l and said to one another:


" Lo, the linlbs of the princess look as though she were loved by
a Ulan! Ho\y can such a take place in a house so ,yell
guarded \Ve 11lUSt go and infornl the king." 'iVhen they had
thus resolved, they all ,vent to the king, aud said: "0 nlaster! ,ve
know not how, but not\vithstanding that this house is so ,vell
guarded, a nlan enters the chanlber of the princess! Our lord nlay
give his conlnlands." The king on hearing this thought, ,vith a
perplexed nlind :
" 'A girl is born-great care. vVho shall ,vao her 1-great delibera-
tion. Then: Will she be happy or unfortunate in ,vedlock Un-
fortunate indeed is the father of a girl! '
" , Girls and rivers arc doing alike, ,vith the banks, ,vith fa111ilies :
through ,vater, through vices, they ruin the111-these, the banks, the
others, the families! ' "
And thus:
" 'Brought into the ,Yorld, she steals the l1lother's heart; grovvs
up under the care of her friends; lllarriecl, she dishonours herself.
Alas, daughters are an incurable lllisfortune ! ' "
After thinking for SOllle tinle in this ,viso, he said to his consort
when they were alone: "Queen, "That these servants of the hareHl
say nlust be inquired into. Against hinl ,vho has cOlnulitted this
crinle the god of Death 2 is much in ,vrath." And the queen after
hearing this ,vas nluch troubled, and, going to the chanlber of her
<.laughter, saw ho,v her lips ,vere bitten and the nle1nbe1's of her body
scratched ,vith nails. She then said: "0 thou wicked one !-shaulc
and disgrace to thy house! vVhy hast thou thus prostituted thy
virtue vVho is he, for ,vhonl the god of Death ,vaits, w"ho has
COllle near thee Tell 111e the plain truth!" vVhilst the Dlother
spake thus in high ,vrath and pride, the princess in fear and ShanlG
bowed her head to"vards the floor, and said: "0 nlother, the great
N arayana 3 COllies to nlO bodily overy night, riding on the Garuda. If
Il1y "vords do not seenl true, let sonle 'V0111Un be concealed in SOITIe

1 Freqnent reference is Inade to this singular kind of caress in Oriental


poetry as well as pros8 fictions.
2 Yama, the PIuto of Hindu n1ytho]ogy.
3 Nal'uyana is by the Vashnava sect identified with Vishnu.
Hindu P1"ototype. 433

private place, and she will behold at luidnight the mighty husband
of Lakshnli."
Then the nl0ther, hearing this, \vith a face beanling \vith delight,
every hair on her linlbs bristling ,vith joy,! \vent to the king and
said: "0 I{ing, glory and blessing have COlne upon thee! Every
night the 111ighty N arayana visits thy daughter. He has taken her
for his ,vife according to the rule of the Gandharva. Thou and I
, \vill stand by the ,vindo\v at midnight, and see hinl, for he \vill not
converse ,vith Dlen." The king \vhen he ,vas told this was so full
of joy that the day seemed to hinl a hundred years long. And when
he and his wife stood concealed near the \vindo\v at night, with their
eyes constantly fixed on the sky, he saw at the stated thue N arayana
descending through the air, astride the Garuda, shell, discus, club,
and lotus in his hands, and furnished \vith all his attributes, he felt
as though he ,vere s,vimming in a lake of nectar, and he said to his
beloved: "Dearest, no nlan in this world is happier than I and
thou! Iror the mighty N arayana has approached our offspring, and
he loves her; and thus are all the of our hearts fulfilled.
Now shall I, through the po,ver of nlY son-in-la,v, subJue the
,vorld! "
Having thus resolved, he began to attack all the neighbouring
kings; but they, seeing that he ,vas unjust, joined their forces
together and overran his kingdom. Then the king, through the
voice of his ,vife, spake to his daughter, saying: "Daughter, since
the lllighty N{trayana has, through thee, who art my daughter,
beco111e ll1y son-i11-la\v, it ill befits that all the neighbouring kings
should make ,var against 111e. Therefore thou ll1Ust this day induce
hinl to cause lily enemies to perish." When the weaver arrived at
night, he ,vas acldressed by her devoutly:·" 0 111ighty one! it
behoves not that 111y father, \vhosc son-in-la\v thou art, should be
overcome by his enenlies. Therefore sho\v thy favour and destroy
theln all." The weaver replied: "'Blessed one! ho,v s1na11' are thy
father's enemies! Be of a light heart! 'Vith Iny discus called
Sudarsana I shall crush thelll to dust in a mOlllcnt." But at length

1 In Indian poetry horripilation is often said to be produced by joy as well


as fear.
F F 2
434 Analogues of the Tale.
the king's possessions were reduced to his stronghold; and so he
sent to the weaver in the form of Vasudeva, as he did not kno\v hin),
an endless quantity of the finest canlphor, aloes, musk, and other
perfumes, as well as manifold garlands, flowers, dainties, and
beverages, and made his daughter say ta hinl: "0 111ighty one!
to-morrow the fortress will assuredly be taken. Provisions and fuel
are all exhausted, and the people are so weak froIn ,,,"ounds in their
bodies that they can fight no longer, while nlany have been slain.
Think of this, and do ,vhat is so urgently required." The '\veavcr,
hearing this, thought vvithin hinlself: "If the citadel surrender,
I shall certainly be lost myself and separated from her. So I will
nlount the Garuda, and sho,v n1yself vvith nly ,veapons in the air.
Perchance they nlay take nle to be Vasudeva, and, overconle by
terror, I shall be slain by the king's soldiers. As they say:
, Even the snake \vithout poison boldly lifts up its crest: poison
or no poison, the mere sight of the creRt strikes terror.'
it ,vere surely much more noble should I die in defending
the city. As it is said:
"Vho finJs death for the sake of a cow, for Brahnlftns,l for }lis
nlaster, for his ,vife, or far his to\Vll, shall have everlasting life.'
J3esides, it is said:
'The sun holding the nloon in her disk falls inta the InOH th of
Rahu : 2 dying yourself for him you protect "well repays a hero.'"
1 The cow is an ohject of adoration an1011g the Hindus; while the Brah-
mans in all their writings have so exalted their caste that it is as heinous a
erime to kill one of thern as to kill a cow. Leave priestcraft everywhere alone
to take good care of its own in terests !
2 Rahu,·in Hindu astronomy, the moon's ascending node, is derived from a
verb literally Ineaning, to abandon, or void; hence also, bla.ck, darkness,
shado'w, etc., and is represented in Hindu mythology as having no body-the
1l'lnbra of the astronon1ers. The unlbra nlay be said to devour, as it were, the
luminaries. In a physical sense, the Hindus consider it as one of the obscure
planets which occasion ecHpses, but, according to mythology, Rahu is the head
of a monster of which Retu, the descending node, is the trunk. Rahu is fabled
to have been transferred to the stellar and becanle the author of
eclipses, hy occasionally swallowing the sun and moon. The origin of the
hostility of Rahu to the sun Rnd nloon is this: When the gods were drinking
the produced at the churning of the ocean, Rahu, a demon, assumed
the form of a god and began to drink also, when the sun and 11100n, in friend.
sh ip to the gods; revealed the deceit. IIis head was then cut oif by Vishnu,
but, being llnlliortul by having tasted the amrita} the head and tail retained
Hindu P1"ototype. 435

When he had thus deterulined, he ground his teeth and said to her:
"Blessed one! I shall not touch either food or drink till all the
enelllies are slain. So \vhy these \vords 1 Even thee I shall not see
till then. But thou must tell thy father that to-lllOrrO\V, in the early
11101'11, he nlust go out of the town with a strong host to do battle,
and I shall appear in the air and take the strength from the others.
He will then easily slay the111. "T ere I to kill them n1yself the
villains \youId go to Paradise; therefore it Inust be so ordered that
they perish in their flight and not reach heaven." 1 And she, after
hearing this, ,vent herself and told the king, who believed \vhat she
had said, and at da\vn rose and sallied out with a well-equipped
army to fight j while the \veaver, ready to ll1eet death, ascended to
the sky \vith a bo\v in his hand to do battle.
l\feantiule the 111ighty Narayana, to whonl the past, the present,
and the future are kno\vn, said smiling to the bird Garuda, \vho,
]'el11enlbering, had conle to him: "Ha, thou winged one! knowest
thou that a \veaver, in nlY shape disguised, and sitting on a
wooden Garuda, loveth the king's daughter lie ans\vered: "Ah
l11e, I do kno\v of these doings, but \vhat are \ve to do The
l11ighty one said: "This weaver is now resolved to die; he has done
penance, and has gone to battle. Struck by the arrows of the brave
\varriors, he will surely find his death. But after his death all the
,vorld \vill say that Vasudeva and his Garuda have been conquered
by 111ighty warriors allied against them. Then ,viII the world no
longer pay us reverence. Therefore do thou hasten and enter this
,vooden Garuda, \vhile I enter the body of the ,veaver, that he may
slay the king's enenlies. By their destruction our glory "\vill be
increased." When the Garuda had expressed his consent, the n1ighty
N arayana ,vent into the body of the \veaver. This one, standing on
the Garuda in the air, distinguished by his shell, discus, club, and
bovv, by the power of the 11lighty one, in one llloment, and as it were

their sepa.rate existence and were transferred to the sky. The head beCn111e
the cause of eclipses by its anitnosHy to the sun and moon, and the head
UeCa111e Ketu, or the descending node.-Balfour's Cy(}lopcedia of Ind'ia.
1 In Hindu belief, heroes who fall in battle ascend at once to heaven. This
is also part of the lVIuslitn creed, and hence the rapid spread of Islam under
the early Khalifs.
(
436 Analogues of the Sq1£i1"e's Tale.
child's-play, rendered inlpotent the strength of the bravest '\varriors.
Then they ,\vere surrounded by the king's arnlY, conquered in battle,
and slain. And among all the people it "was reported that the king's
enemies had been slain in consequence of his relationship to Vishnll.
The weaver, when he saw theul all slain, descended frorn the sky
,vith a joyful heart. When the king, the Ininisters, and the people
sa'\v the weaver, their townslnan, they asked hinl: "What means
this " And he told then1, froln the beginning, the foregoing story.
The king, having by the destruction of his foes recovered his power,
at once received the "\tveaver graciously, and gave hinl, solenlnly in
public, his daughter in marriage, and vvith her a part of his kingdonl.
And the weaver passed his life with her in the enjoynlent of the five
kinds of sensual pleasures, "\tvhich are the essence of the world of the
living. Therefore they say:
"Even BraJlll1a does not find the end of a subtle deceit: a
weaver in the shape of Vishnu ,vins the king's daughter."

The great Indian story-book, ]{atlui Sarit Sagara, has a different,


but cognate, version, in vvhich a young man "rho personates Vishnu
rides upon a living Garuda (Prof. C. H. Tavvney's translation, vol. i.
p. 79 fr.) :

(!0aLe nf a lYRa fuUll utrzonatt.o


tll£ bcit!! WizUltu.
IN this tale the hero, Lohajangha, having been scurvily treated
by the n10ther of a courtesan of whon1 he was enanloured, resolves to
be revenged. He receives fronl Vibhishana, king of the Rakshasas
in Lankc\,1 a young bird of the race of Garuda, a lotus, a club, a
shell, and a discus of gold to be offered to Vishnu ; 2 then mounting
the bird he is carried to J\fathura. The story thus proceeds:
And there he descended from the air in an empty convent
1 Rakshasas (feulale, Rakshasis) are goblins or demons, but, like the jinn
and the divs of the Arabian and Persian mythologies, not all equally bad.
1.anka was formerly the l1allle of Ceylon, and also of its capital. It was also
called Sinhadvipa, or Lion-island, and Suvarnadvipa (Sarandip), or Golden-
island.
2 See ante, note 2, p. 430.
Anothe1" ]lindifJ Tale. 437
outside the to,vn, and deposited there his abundant treasure, and
tied up that bird. And then he ,vent into the 11larket and sold one
of his jfnvels, and bought garluents and scented unguents, and also
food. And he ate' the food in that convent where he ,vas, and gave
80111e to his bird; and he adorned hinlself ,vith the garnlents,
unguents; fio,vers, and other decorations. And ,vhen night came
he mounted that saIne bird and went to the house of Rupinika [the
courtesan], bearing in his hand the shell, discus, and nlace; then he
hovered above it in the air, kno,ving the place "reIl, and nlade a low
deep sound, to attract the attention of his beloved, ,vho ,vas alone.
And Rupanika, as soon as she heard that sound, canle and sa,v
hovering in the air by night a being like N arayana, gleauling 'with
je,vels. He said to her: "I anl Hari, l C0111e hither for thy sake" ;
'v hereupon she bo\ved \vith her face to the earth and said: "l\fay
the god have nlercy upon llle!" Then Lohajangha uescended and
tied up his bird, and entered the private apartnlents of his beloved,
hand in hand with her. And after renlailling there a short tiule,
he came out, and lllounting his bird as before ,vent off through
the
In the lllorning Rupanika observed an obstinate silence, thinking
to herself: "I anl the wife of the god ViS}lllll. I lllust cease to
converse ,vith mortals." And then her lllother, l\fakarac1anshtni,
said to her: "Why do you behave in this ,vay, 111y daugh tor 1"
And after she had been perseveringly questioned by her parent, she
caused to be put up a curtain betvveen herself and her parent,2 and
told her ,vhat had taken place in the night, which ,vas the cause of
her silence. When her m.other heard that she felt doubt on the
subject; but soon after, at night, she saw Lohajangha 11l0unted on
the bird, and in the morning came secretly to Rupanika, who still
renlained behind the curtain, and, inclining herself, humbly preferred
to her this request: "Through the favour of the god, thou, ll1Y
daughter, hast obtained here on .earth the rank of a goddess, and
I aln thy 1110ther in this world; therefore grant 111e a re,vard fur

1 Narayana and Hari are two of the names of Vishnu.


2 Believing herself the spouse of Vishnu, she thought it would be highly
improper to converse even with her mother face to face.
438 of the Tale.
gl vlng thee birth: entreat the god that, old as I am, vvith this very
body I 111ay enter l)aradise-do 111e this favour."
Rupillika consented, and requested that very boon fro111 Loha-
jangha, who came again, at night, disguised as Vishl1u. And then
Lohajangha, who was personating the god, said to his beloved:
" Thy 1110ther is a "ricked vVOlnan; it would not be fitting to take
her openly to Paradise. But on the 1110rning of the eleventh day the
door of heaven is opened, and nlany of the Ganas, Siva's cOll1panions,1
enter into it before anyone else is adnlitted. Anl0ng them I 'wU1
introduce this mother of thine, if she aSSlune their appearance. So
shave her head with a razor, in such a n1anner that five locks shall be
left; put a necklace of skulls round her neck; and, stripping off her
clothes, paint one side of her body with lamp-black, and the other vvith
red lead;2 for ,vhen she has in this ,vay been made to resemble a
Gana, I shall find it an easy nlatter to get her into heaven." When
he had said this, Lohajangha re1uained a short tin1e and then
departed.
And in the nl0rning Rllpinilu1 attired her 1110ther as he had
directed, and then she renlained with her ll1ind entirely fixed upon
Paradise. So ,vhen night caBle Lohajangha appeared again, and
Rupinika handed over her nl0ther to hinl. Then he n10unted on
the bird, and took her with him naked and transfornled as he had
directed, and he flevv up rapidly vvith her into the air. While he
,vas in the air he beheld a lofty stone pillar in front of a temple,
,,,ith a discus on its SU111111it. So he placed her on the top of the
pillar, ,vith the discus as her only support,3 and there she hung like
a bani1er to blazon forth his revenge for her ill-usage. He said to
her: "Remain here for a 1110ment, while I bless the earth with my
approach," and vanished fronl her sight. Then, beholding a nunlbel'
of people in front of the temple, who had COlne there to spend the
1 Ganas are inferior deities, presided over by Ganesa, the elephant-headed
god, the gorl of wisdom, who is always invoked at the beginning of every
lIindu literary composition, and often of each section, if a lengthy work.-
Siva is lauded as the lord of songs, the best and most bountiful of gods, yet he
is also the wielder of the thunderbolt, etc.
2 Thus she represented the Arddhanarisvara, or Siva, half male and half
fomale, which cOlupound figure is to be painted in this n1anner.-Talvney.
3 She had to hold on to it by her hands.
Anothe1" Hindu Tale. 430

night in devout vigils before the festive procession, he called aloud


froIn the air: "Hear, ye people. This very day shall there fall upon
you here the all-destroying goddess of Pestilence; 1 therefore fly to
Hari for protection." vVhen they heard this voice fronl the air, all
the inhabitants of JYlathura ,vho ,vere there, being terrified, iUlplored
the protection of the god, and renlained devoutly nluttering prayers
to 'Yard off Cahtnlity. Lohajangha, for his part, descended from the
air and encouraged them to pray; ant}, after changing that dress of
his, calne and stood among the people without being observed.
'1'he old WOlnan thought, as she sat upon the top of the pillar:
"The god has not come as yet, and I 11ave not reached heaven." At
last, feeling it hnpossible to remain up there any longer, she cried
out in her fear, so that the people below heard: "I anl falling! I
anl falling! " Hearing that, the people in front of the god's teluple
were beside theulselYes, fearing that the destroying goddess ,vas
falling upon then1, even as had been foretold, and said: "0 goddess!
do not fall! do not fall! " So those people of Mathura, young and
old, spent that night in perpetual dread that the destroying goddess
,vould fall upon them; but at last it canle to an end, and then,
beholLling the old ,voman upon the pillar in the state described, the
citizens and the king recognized her at once. All the people there-
upon forgot their alarnl and burst out laughing; and Rupinika at last
arrived, having heard of the occurrence. And "\vhen she saw it she
,vas abashed, and with the help of the people ,vho 'vere there she
managed to get that Inother of hers do\vn fronl the top of the pillar
innllediately. '

A variant current among the Transylvanian Gipsies, though


curiously distorted, is doubtless a survival of one of the oIJ-,vorld
tales and fables which those renlarkable people brought \vith them to
Europe vvhen they Inigrated from their native honle in the far East:
there is a decided touch of Bl1ddhisll1 in it, where the n1an's gooJ
genius appears in bodily forll1 and rc\vards him for his hlunanity :

1 Kali, the spouse of Siva, called also Parvati, Durga, and by many other
names.
440 of the Sq'ltire's Tale.

IN a land ,vhere it is eternal SUlllmer once lived a handsol11e


young nlal1, ,vho willingly bestoY'{ed his goods upon all people. He
,vas very rich, and when a poor 111an came to hill1 he Inude hilll a
present, gave hill1 drink and nleat, presented hill1 with ll10neyand
fair garnJents. N O\V it happened once on a tiuJe that all old beggar
can1e to hil11 and spoke thus: "Sir, I am sick. Let 111e live ,vith
thee till I a111 ,veIl. I anl poor, and have no hut where I can lay nlC
clo\vn." The rich man said: "Gladly will I keep thee with n1e till
thou be ,veIl again. And all that thou ,vishest and I can give thee
that shalt thou have." And the old beggar stayed in the rich 111an's
fine house, lay on a soft bed, and ate the best food his host had.
After SOIlle clays the old beggar rose and ,vent to his entertainer's
1"00111, and spoke thus to hiln: " l'hou art a rich 111an, and a good
111an. I am no,v leaving thee, and have ll1ade for thee in rny 1"00111
a ,vooden bird. If thou sittest on this bird thou 111ayest fly ,vhither
thou ,vilt. If thou ever eornest to need, I will help thee ;-1 am
Saint Nicholas." The rich man was about to kneel dovvn before the
saint and thank him for his goodness, but he had vanished.
He no,v ,vent into the other roonl, and found there a large bird
n1ade of wood. He thought to himself: "Thou art rich enough
now, and needest not to be al\vays sitting at h0111e. Fly thou into
the ,yorld." He filled the great bird's inside with gold pieces,
hilllself on its back, and fle,Y into the vyorld. Once he caU1e to a
city in ,vhich a king lived to whonl it had been foretold that a
strange, COill1110n 11lan should ravish his daughter f1"oll1 hill1. Then
the king was sore afraid, and had a great house built, ,vhich ,vas en-
circled by seven high ,valls. In this house he shut up his daugbter,
and no one ,vas allo,ved to visit her. He hilllself can1e three tilnes
a day to his daughter and brought her meats and drinks. All this
,vas told in the city to the rich man, ,yha had hid his ,vooden bird
in the forest outside, and was now walking about in the city.
When he had heard the story of the shut-up king's daughter he
,vent straight,vay out into the forest and Inounted his wooden bird.
GilJS;Y Tale: The T-V ooden Bi1'd. 4-:b1

It tle\v on to the house \vhere the king's daughter \vas shut up. 1-Ie
left his bird behind hinl on the roof and \vent dow'n to the fair
king's daughter. When the nlaiden saw hinl she was sore afraid, for
she could not think how a 111an could have got into this carefully-
closed house. The rich nlan no,v said to her: "I anl the son of the
good God, and anl conle to take thee to wife." It vvas already
evening, and that day the king came no more to his daughter. The
rich nlan stayed 'with the king's daughter and entertained himself
,vith her the \vhole night through, all went so well.
Next nlorning the king came to his daughter, and \vhen he saw a
strange man ,vith her he was nearly frightened to death. But when
his daughter told hin1 that the lllan ,vas the son of the good God he
was rejoiced, and called all his lords together, and told them that the
son of God wanted to have his daughter. All believed that the
stranger was the son of God, but one lord said: "If he is so, and
flew here, let hilu show us he can fly a\vay again. If he do this, ,ve
,vill believe that he is the son of God, and he can return and take
the king's daughter to ,vife." The rich nlan replied: "You shall
soon see nle fly." And he mounted to the roof to flyaway on his
wooden bird, but it had vanished! Novv did the rich man stand on
the roof) and he kne,v not ,vhat to do. So he descended; but the
people caUle upon hilll, reviled hilll as a traitor, and ,vould have
beaten hin1 nigh to death, had not St. Nicholas suddenly appeared,
and said: "I{no,v ye, I anl St. Nicholas, and I tell you that our
good GOd'R ,viII i8 that this good Juan have this king's daughter to
vvife. l\fay they both live long in peace and joy!" Then he disap-
peared. And the rich man l11arried the fair daughter of the king,
and they lived till their blessed end in. joy and peace. 1

In the follo\\ring story (for which I am indebted to l\:Ir. F. Hindes


Groome, ,vho kindly placed at my service the 1V£S. of a \vork on Gipsy
Tales, ,vhich he has been for some tiu1e preparing for publication) vre
have, at the beginning, traces of the Persian tale of the Flying Chest,
and, farther on, of the usual elopeu1ent-,vith a difference:
1 From a paper entitled" Beitrage z.u Benfey's Pantsoltatantra," by Dr.
IIeinrich von vVlislocld, in the Zeitsohrift de,. Deutschen JJJo'1'genZiiruli:)(}lwn
Vol. XXXII. 1888, Part 1, p.
442

THERE ,vas a certain great craftslnan, and he \vas rich. He took


to drinking and ganlbling, and drank a\vay all his wealth, and gre"r
pOOf, so that he had nothing to eat. He sa'rv in a dreall1, that he
should make hill1self wings, and he Inade himself wings, and scre,vecl
thern on hinlself, and flew to the ninth region, and £levv to the
emperor's castle and lighted do\vn. And the emperor's son \vent
forth to meet hinl, and asked hinl: "Where do you come frolll, nlY
luan "I C0111e froIn afar." "Sell me the wings." "I will."
" vVhat do you ,vant for thenl " " A thousand gold pieces." And
he gave hirn them, and said to hiln: "Go hOlue \vith the \vings, and
come in a montb." He flew h0111e, and came in a nl0nth, and he
said to him: "Scre\v the wings on to me." And he screwed them
on, and ,vrote down for him, \vhich peg he was to turn to fly, ann
\vhich peg he was to turn to alight. He £le\v a little, and let himself
down on the ground, and gave hinl a thousand florins more, and
gave hinl also a horse, that he might ride hOllle.
The emperor's son screwed on the wings, and fle\v to the south.
A ,vind arose frOln the south and tossed the trees and drove hiln to
the north. In the north dwelt the wind, and drove him to the ninth
region. And a fire ,vas shining in the city, and he lighted down on
the earth, and unscre\ved his wings, and folded them by his side,
and canle into the house. There ,vas an old woman, and he asked
for food. She gave him a dry crust, and he did not eat it. lIe lay
do"wn and slept. And in the morning he wrote a letter for her, and
gave her money, and sent her to a cook-shop, and gave a letter to the
cook, to give him good food. And the old ,vornan ca111e home and
gave hilll to eat, and he also gave to the old wonlan.
He went outside, and sa\v the enlperor's palace, \vith three storeys
of stone and a fourth of glass. And he asked the old \V0111an: "'Vho
lives in the palace, and ,vho lives in the fourth storey " The
emperor's daughter lives there. He won't let her go out. lie gives
her food there by a rope." And the maid-servant lowerod the rope,
and they attached. the victuals to it, and she dre,v them up by the
Another Gipsy Tale: The J;Iagic TtVings. 443

rope. And the maid-servant had a bed-chamber apart, where she


slept only of a night, and the day she pa'ssed \vith the princess.
And that e1npe1'or's son screwed on his \vings and fle\v up to the
glass house; and he looked to see ho\v the \vinc1ows opened, and
opened them and let himself in. And she ,vas lying lifeless on the
bed. And he srook her, but she never spoke. And he took the
candle froln head, and she arose and en1braced hinl, and said to
him: "Since you are COIHe to me, you are Inine and I anl yours."
They loved one another till it ,vas day, and he placed the candle at
her head and she \vas dead, and he ,vent ont. 1 And he closed the
,vindo\vs again and fle\v back to the old \VOnlan. He ,vent to her
half a year. She becanle pregnant. The maid-servant noticed she
was growing stout, and her dresses did not fit her. She \vrote a letter
to the emperor: "vVhat \vill this be, that your daughter is stout 1"
The en1peror ,vrote back a letter to her: "Sulear the floor at night
,vith dough, and ""hoever comes \vill nlake his mark on the floor."
She placed the candle at her head, and the girl lay dead. l\.nd she
slllearcd the floor \vith dough, and \vent to her chamber.
The enlperor's son came again to her, and let hirl1self in to her,
and never noticed they had snleared the floor, and nlade footprints
\vith his shoes, and the dough stuck to his shoes, and he never
noticed it, and \vent home to the old \V01l1an, and lay do\vn and
slept. The servant ,vent to the emperor's daughter and saw the
footprints, and \vrote a letter to the elllperor, and took the llleasure
of the footprints, and sent it to the e111perOl\ The elnperor Sll1ll-
moned t,vo servants, and gave then1 a letter, and gave thenl the
Ineasure of the footprints: "vVhose shoes the measure shall fit
bring him to me." They traversed the ,vhole city, and found
nothing. And one said: "Let's try the old woman's." And one
said: "No; there's no one there." "Stay here; I'll go." And he
sa\v hiln sleeping, and he applied the measure to his shoes. They

1 rrhis is a common incident in folk-tales. In the section on Magic Swords


(p. 373) we see how a giant, to keep his daughter f1'01n any love escapade, cut
off her head before going abroad each day, and on his return replaced the head
and brought her back to life by lneans of the sanle sword that he had eJnployed
to decapitate her. And in t.he rrul'kiHh Variant (p. 418) a girl is enchanted to
apparent lifelessness w'ith the sanlC object.
444 Analogu.les of the Tale.
sun11110neu him: "Conle to the elnperor." "All right." He
bought himself a great cloak, and put it 011, so that his vvings lllight
not be noticed, and ,vent to the enlperor.
The enlperor asked hin1: "Have you been going to IUy
"I have." " "\v""'ith 'vhat purpose have you done so "I Vvant to
TIIarry her." The enlperor said: "Bah! you'll not 11larry her, for
I'll burn you both on thorns." The enlperor COlll111anded his servant.s,
and they gathered three cart-loads of thorns, and set thelll on fire, and
lowered her do\vn, to put them both on the fire. The e1nperor's sori
asked: "Allo\v us to say a paternoster." He said to the girl
"vVhen I fall on IllY knees, do you creep under the cloak, and clasp
me round the neck, for I'll fly upwards with you." She clasped hin1
round the neck, and quickly he screvvec1 the vvings and fle\v upwards.
The cloak fle\v off: the soldiers fired their guns at it-he fie\v. She
cried: "Let yourself do\vn, for I shall bear a child." He said:
" fIold out." He fle"w farther, and alighted on a rock on a nl0untain,
and she brought forth a child there. She said: "l\fake a fire." lIe
sa\v a fire in a field afar off. He scre\ved his vvings, and flew to the
fire, and took a brand of it and calne back. A spark fell on one
vying, and the wing caught fire. J nst as he was under the n1onntain,
the vying fell off, and he flung a\vay the other as vvell.
And he \valked round the nlountain, and could not ascend it.
And God canle to hinl and said: "vVhy weepest thou " Ah,
how should I not \veep, for I can't ascend the 1l1ountain. l\:fy 'Yife
has brought forth a child." " vVhat \vill you give n1e if I carry you
up to the top " "I \vill give you vvhatever you \vant." "vVill
you give rne what is dearest to you 1" "I \vill." "IAet us nlake an
agreelnent." They made one. God cast hilll into a deep sleep, and
her as vvell; and God bore them honle to his father's, to his own
"bed, and left then1 there, and departed. .And the child cried. The
vvarders heard a child crying in the bed-chanlber. l'hey went and
opened the door, and recognized hinl, the e111perOr's son. And they
,vent to the en1peror and. told hirn: "-Your son has C0111e, 0 ell1peror!"
"Call him to nle." They came to the enlperor; they bowed then1-
selves before hitn; they tarried there a year. The boy grew big, and
,vas playing one day. l'he emperor and empress ,vent to ehurch;
Modc1"n G'l'cck Tale: The Golden Steed. 445
and his nurse too "rent to
the church. God caIne, disguised as a
beggar. The emperor's son said to the little lad: "Take a handful
of l1loney and give it to the beggar." The beggar said: "I don't
,van t this Inoney. rrell your father to give 111e "'hat he vowed he
,vouId." The eluperor's son ,vas angry, and took his s,vord in his
hand, and ,vent to the old luan, to kill hitn. The old man took the
s\voru in his own hand and said: "Give me \vhat you s\vore to l1le-
the child, you you ,vere \veeping under the l11ountain."
" I ,vill gi vc yon n10ney; I \villnot give the child." God took the
child by the head, and his father took hilU by the feet, and they
tugged, and G-od cut the child in llalves: "One half for you, and
one half for nlo." "No\v you've killed hi111, I don't \vant hilll.".
God took him and ,vent outsiJe, and put hin1 together, and he ,vas
healed, and lived again: "Do you take hinl no\v." For God cut off
his sins. l

itlob,erlt
A CURIOUSLY garbled forl11 of the sanle story is given in Geldart's
Folk-Lore of Modern Greece, under the title of Golden Steed,'
p. 92 £f., of ,vhich the conclusion is taken frOln a quite different tale,
current in IllOst parts of Europe. A young prince falls desperately
in love \vith a beautiful princess frol11 seeing her portraity and,
acconlpunied by his bosonl friend, the son of his father's chaplain,
1 'Del' Geflligelte Helu': lIfarchen 1-MLd Liede," cler Zige1-Lner der
von Dr. Franz Miklovich. 'Vieu,1874. No. VIII., pp. 30-34.-1'he conclusion
of this tale is very remarkable, in the Deity being snbstituted for some species
of spirit, who is invariably the personage in all other tales known
to me where a similar incident occurs. The nl0st COlllmon form relates how a
chilJless king is compelled to lwomise one of those mysterious beings (whose
nature and character are not very clearly defined in that he will sur-
render to hinl "what he has left in the house, but doesn't know about." When
the king reaches home he finds that a son has been born to him in his absence,
and that, this is what he has prolnised to the denlon. After some tin1e the king
has to surrender the" heir and hope" of his house, but all turns out well in the
end. (See, for example, No. VIII. of M. Leger's French collection of Slav Talcs.)
It is curious to observe how frc\luently "the good God" and" the son of the
good God" figure in Gipsy tales, and the only reason that occurs to 111e is that
the sen1i-christianizing which the Gipsies have undergone may have induced
thetn thus to alter their hereditary tales, in order to please their European
patrons.
446 A of the Sq uirre's 1 ct!c.
1

sets out in quest of her vvhose " counterfeit presentment ' - has robbed
hilll of his heart. After journeying at ranclon1 for S01116 tin1e they
enter the castle of a sorceress, \""here the priest's son-\vho is the real
hero of the tale-learns £1'0111 her conversation ,vith her daughter ho,v
the abode of the princess may be reached, and the story proceeds:
When they got down to the shore, the priest's son goes, as the
sorceress had said, to the lower pillar and digs. When he had dug
sonIC way dovvn, he unearths a bridle <\vhat on earth is the priest's
son up j he dips it in the sea, and 10 and behold! out there
conles a horse with wings, says: "At your service, Inaster ! " 1
l'hen the t,vo nl0untecl him, and in the twinkling of an eye pass
over to the country of the Fair One. they had landed the
horse turns into a bridle again, \vhich they take into the to'wn \vith
them. They inquire of 011e or t·wo of the people there, and they tell
them that this is ,vhere the Fair One cl \vells. Theu the prince
slniled, and did not trouble hilllself to think ho\v they \yere to
accolllplish their object. But la! the priest's son had the \vjt of a
WOl1lan,2 and did business by the bushel. When they had stayed
t\VO or three days, and no one so 11luch as gave thenl a look, he said

to his con1panion one evening: "'VeIl, brother, ,vhat's to be done


no,v " To \vhich the prince, in a languishing voice, replied: "I'm
sure I don't know."
" vVell, brother," said his friend, "I have got a plan that I think
of carrying out, and I want you to listen to it and see \vhether it
nleets your vievvs as \vell. I have conle to the conclusion that ,ve
should take a cunning artificer into our house" and get hinl to n1ake us
a horse that a Inan could get inside of, and to fit it with screws and
springs, so that it can be put through all the paces of a live one;
and that we should gild it outside, and deck it here aud there ,vith
dianlonds and other precious geIns, so as to glitter and gleanl; and
Dlake it a saddle of velvet, ,vith golden tassels and a goldt'n. bridle;
1 See the note on the bridles of magic horses, ante, p. 272, also p. 287.-In
the of 'The Mule' without a Bridle,' the lady who rides up to the pre-
sonce of the king n1ight well be desirous of recovering the lost bridle, since it
conferred on its possessor eternal youth and unfading beauty. .
2 Yet according to the Turkish proverb" \V0111Cn have long hair and short
wits." \
lJfode'rn G'ree7c Tale: The Golden Steed. 447
and then let's set it going. Only speech will be to it. And
if God grant us success, then shall our enterprise thrive, other\vise
\ve shall 'lose both the eggs and the basket.'" The prince, who
\vould have said" very good" to any proposal, on this occasion said
it t,vice: "A very good plan-a very good plan indeed, that of
yours." So they engage an artificer of the first rank; they pay hinl
handsomely-for they ,vere boiling with impatiellce- an<1 he Inakes
a horse, which if anyone had seen when fully caparisoned, he \vould
have said: "Good heavens! give nle an extra pair of eyes to look
at him!" So beautiful it ,vas. But they had bound the artificer
on his oath not to tell anyone the secret.
The prince gets into it., and the priest's son starts off \vith it, and
they corne right into the capital. The sun was just rising, and the
people see a sight "which dazzled everyone's eyes. Heart alive!
\vhatever had legs ran to see the wonderful sight, and only beh(,ld
the \vay in which it greeted the populace, curvetting and prancing
about like nlacl! On that day everybody turned out of doors to
look at it. The next day the king also heard of it, and gave orders
to bring it to the palace, that the princess lIlight enjoy the spectacle
too. No sooner had they heard this-a thing they had scarcely
hoped for-than they take it to the palace. The king and the
princess see it, and are alnlost beside themselves at its beauty.
'fhey overwhelm the priest's son ,vith gracious attentions, and bid
him leave it there, and conle to fetch it on the nlorro,v, so that they
might have a good look at it. What could the priest's son do 1t
was a king's command. So he rises to depart, against his ,vill. All
night long no slumber closed his eyes, for he ,vas afraid they would
open the horse; and 'while it \"as still quite dark, he ran to the
palace and took it away. On reaching their little house he unscre,vs
it, and out COllles the prince and says: "V\T e got off cheap last
night! l\fy heart went pit-a-pat like a clock, until you came to
fetch Ine." "It fared the same with me, you luay be sure. But we
have got as far as the palace, and my fears are passing a"way. All
goes well and prosperously."
One day the priest's son said to the prince: "Eh, brother, how"
long shall we waste our time to no purpose l'hi8 evening you
IIANE. G G
448 Analog1tcs of the .Tale.
must positively nlake up your 11lind to get out of the horse ,vhen
they are all asleep; and then let's see ,vhat happens" ;-£01' the
princess ,vas wont to take the horse into her chanlber to look at it.
But do you think the prince ('vho 'was very tilnid) could ever Inake
up his mind to any such thing So the priest's son for tha t evening
got inside, and went to the palace. Ah, but that evening the horse
surpassed. itself, for the priest's son klle,v a nuniber of tricks, and
made them all split with laughter.
At length, when the princess was sleepy, she took the darling
horse into her room, and played with it again for some tinle. l"'hen
she got into her golden bed, 'w hich was filled with roses and other
fio'wers, and just about the tiil1e 'vhen she was going to close her
sweet eyes out comes the priest's son and stands before her. lIe
was seized with a fit of gasping, and could not speak. The princess,.
who had not yet gone to sleep, opens and shuts her eyes and looks at
him, and makes as though she would cry out. l"'hen the priest's son
begins, ,vith tears in his eyes: "In the nanle of .God, lady, have
pity on ll1e! Don't 111ake them kill me without a cause. Ah, light
of ll1Y eyes! ,vhut pains do I suffer for your sake! Yon 11lUSt take
S01ne young nlan: look at nle. I anl neither blind nor lal1le." At
thiR she stands and .considers. She sees before her a handsolne
youth; she sees him crying like a gUilele8s child. Partly she pities
hinl, and partly she likes hinl, so she says to herself: "Suppose novv
I set up a shouting, vvhat should I gain by it 'Vhile they are
condng to catch hiln, he 111ay kill 1ne first, and eud by being killed
hinlself. On the other hand, as I nlust marry SOlne one, I shall
scarce get a better than he." Then she says to hiln: "\Vell, and
what do you The heart of the priest's son had recovered
itself a little, as it were, and he said to her: "Let us arise, lady, and
fly hence." "Swear to nle," said she, "that you are Dot taking me
a,vay for another." " Anl I such a dolt, 11ly darling, as to risk tllis
for another 1" BlIt she seeDled as though she snlelt the' trick; ho,v-
ever, ,vhat could she do So she .gets up and gathers together all
her t.rinkets, and they 11lake ,vithout anyone getting scent of
theIu. They rnn to the house ,vhcrc the prince is hourly ,vaiting
theu), and ,vithout their entering at all, the three take to their heels.
Jlfode?'>n Greek Tale: The Golden Steed. 449

Day da\vns: the hour comes when the princess ,vas ,vont to
a,vake. She neither wakes nor stirs. "Why, what's the
asks the king. " Why doesn't that fello,v conle to fetch his horse '.1
For he al ways came very early.. At last he seellled to get an inkling
of the state of the case, and shouted that they should break open the
door. "Vhen the door ,vas broken open, what did they see 'N0
princess I-no trinkets I-only the golden horse lying open on the
floor. " Woe betide me ! " shouts the king "I have lost 111y solace!
Run to the house of the o,vner of the horse 1" But in is all
their trouble! To no purpose all their toil! The bird was flown
from the cage. They muster an arnIed force, and start in pursuit.
But the fugitives are close to the sea, and fear them not.. When the
princess sa,v so large an army, " See! " said she, "my father is' after
us, and where shall we go now " Then the prince dips the bridle
into the sea, and up comes the horse antI carries thenI across. The
king then conles to the shore, but ho,v. shall he pass over lie
utters a curse on the princess: "Daughter, look to it ! Since you
have deserted me and fled, the first night Y9U sleep with your
husband, may the ,vall be rent and a two-headed 1110nster conle and
eat you up!"
Let us no\v turn to the prince, who ,vas as blithe as a bird on
the ,ving, and, '\vanted to be off at once to his father's. But the
prjncess 'vas not so ,yell pleased \vith him. son of the priest
proposed that they should first go to the castle of the ,vitch, and
afterwards proceed to their own country. So they come to the
castle,. and the priest's son says to the princess: "l'his is your
llllsballd, lady. He is a king's son, and I alll but the son of a
priest." She was like to 111ake a ,vry face, but she gulped do\vn her
vexation, and said: "I nlust put up \vith him."-The priest's son
overhears the sorcere::;s say to her daughter, that \vhocver Bhould hear
or tell of the monster's devouring the princess should be turned into
stone. After this all tIn,ec-the prince, princess, and the priest's
son-Teturn home, and the sequel is sinlilar to the conclusion of the
Gernlan stOI'Y in Grimlu's collection, entitled' Del' Gute J ohannes.' 1
1 It is a very common feature of Eastern tales for a young prince t.o be
acconlpanied in his quest of a faulous beauty by a clever and devoted friend,
G G 2
450 Analog1-tes qf the Sq1-tire's Tale.
There is reason to suspect Geldal't of having "cooked" his
versions of nlodern Greek tales, and I think he has taken c.onsiderable
liberties ,vith the story of the Golden Steed, ,vhich is comprsed of
incidents in at least three tales that are quite separate distinct in
other European countries. I feel pretty confident that, in order to
,vrite " a book for children," he represents the prince's conlpanion as
making love to the young princess in his ovvn person, instead of as
personating some celestial being. Hans in his version,
does not scruple to say that the adventurer called hinlself a Turkish
god, because a European child is not supposed to know that the
Ottonlans are nlonotheists, but he glosses over what happened during
the night by saying that he "told pretty stories to the princess."-
We have not yet quite done with exanlples of rascals seducing youth
and beauty under the disguise of celestials. Here is one fron1 Kenl-
pius, De Osculis, translated by BeIoe, in his published
in, 1795, vol. ii. pp. 71-74:

THERE was at ROllle a lady named Paulina. She ,vas of splendid


rank and irreproachable Inorals, very rich, exceedingly beantiful, in
the bloOlll of youth, and of extraordinary modesty. She was mar-
ried to one Saturninus, a nlan of no fortune, and in every respect
her inferior. Decius Mundus, a Ronlan knight of superior dignity,
endeavoured to seduce Paulina, and offered her two hundred thou-
sand Attic drachnuB as the price of her modesty. On her refusal
his passion was but the Inore inflamed, till he at length took it so
nluch to heart as to abstain from all food. He had in his falnily a
fen1ale slave called lde, a woman ren1arkably ,veIl skilled in all the
artifices of mischief. She soothed the young man with flattering
hopes, and promised to satisfy his wishes at no greater sum than
fifty thousand drachmre.
She found that Panlina ,vas not to be corrupted "with money,

as in the Sansluit story of the l\Hnister's Son, one of the Vetdlapanclla rdnfJflN,
or Twenty-five Tales of a Vampyre, and the 'ramil romance, lJfadanaluilJul1'6jiln-
ltada,i, which has been translated into English by Pandit Natesa Sastrl uncleI'
the title of the Drav'idian Nights Ente1'ta'inments.
A Roman Knight PeTsonates 451
but ,vas blindly attached to the "vorship of Isis, ,yho was then vener-
ated in Roule as a goddess. She went to SOUle of the Ininisters of
this false deity and offered theln large bribes to circumvent Paulina
and procure her perS')}l for 1\{undus. They, allured by the money,
undertook the office. The eldest aUlong thenl "vent privately to
Paulina and assured her that Anubis ,vas captivated ,vith her beauty,
and required her to grant him an intel'vie"v. 1:he lady.was over-
joyed at the idea of being beloved by a god, and scrupled not to
acquaint her husband of the fact, ,vho, trusting to his wife's integrity,
svffered her to depart ,vith the priest. She was introduced into a
grove at the approach of night, ,vhere she ,vas received by Mundus
in the charaeter of the god Al1ubis, who passed the night in her
COlnpany.
On her return she boasted not only to her husband but to her
acquaintance of the favours she had received fronl the god. The
third day after this event Mundus met her, "Paulina," said he, "I
have kept ll1y two hundred .thousand drachmre and had your beauty
for nothing. Your cruelty to 1vlundus I have revenged in the
character of Anubis." The lady "as petrified ,vith horror, and in-
fOl'nled her husband of what had happened. lIe cOlllplained to the
emperor, and Tiberius, on proof of the crime, crucified the priests,
pulled down the tenlple, thre,v the iInage of Isis into the Tiber, and
banished 1\fulldus - thinking that the excess of passion <.lid not
demand so severe a punishnlent as death. 1
1 The same story is told by Josephus, Ant. J'u,d. xviii. 3, a fact which Beloe
seems to have overlooked; and also in the lVars of Alexam,cler, an alliterative
romance, chiefly derived frolll the Histm'ia A lexctndri :A[agni de Prelius, re..
edited by Dr. Skeat for the Early English Text Society, where (p. 7) Nectanabus,
king of Egypt, deceives Olylnpias, wife of Philip, telling her that the god
Alllmon will appear to her in a drealll.
A different version is fonnd in Dubois' Secret History and IJove Adventures
of the Ladies of Antiquity (6 vols., Paris, 1726), of which extracts are given in
the des romans: 10, of Argian J uno, believed that for six
months she had been honoured with frequent nocturnal visits from Jupiter, by
whom she ·was pregnant. It was really Telegonus, who, having fallen in love
with 10, took advantage of her credulity, founel his way to her apartment, and
asserted that he was Jupiter himself con1e to protect and woo her. His visits to
her in that character were very frequent, persuading her to keep their intrigue
an impenetrable secret; lest she should draw upon herself the of
Juno.-The gods thelllselves, however, if we may credit classical and other tales,
452 A of the sTale.
There can be little doubt, I think, that either classical Latin
story or Eastern fiction suggested to Boceaccio the idea of his divert-
ing tale of Friar i\.lbert, of \vhich the following is an abstract
(Deca1nC1'On, Day iv., Nov. 2) :

AT Inlola there lived a nlan nalued Berto della Massa, whose


lewd and wicked character at became so notorious that he had
to quit the to\VD, and tal\:e up his abode in Venice-" the conlll10n
receptacle of .all kinds of \vickedlless "-\vhere he turned friar, and,
assuming the llanle of Father Albert, affected to lead a nlost sanctified
life, and he soon· worlned hinlself into everybody's confidence. One
day there canle to hiul for confession a silnple-minded but yery vain
lady, called Lisetta della .Quirino, the \vife of a ·111erchant ,vho \vas
gone on a trading voyage to Flanders. l'he" holy" friar asked her
if she had a lover, to which she indignantly replied that certainly
she could have as many lovers as she pleased, but beauty such as
hers was fit only for heaven itself. Father Albert at once perceived
her foible, and, while inwardly resolving t.o turn it to his own
advantage, pretended to be much grieved at her vain-glory. The
lady told hinl that he \vas a brute, and didn't know beaut.y \vhen he
sa,v it. Not to farther provoke her, he heard her confession and
dismissed her.
Not long after this, Friar Albert goes, accolnpanied by a friend,
to the lady's house, and asks her forgiveness for having blasphenlcd
her beauty; but he had, says this wily one, been so severely
chastised for it that he was only able to leave his bed that day.
"Who chastised you asks the lady. "Thus it was," says the
friar, "that salne night, when at my prayers, I sl.Hlclenly perceived
a most brilliant light, and 011 turning round saw a beautiful youth,
were wont to come down to earth and woo and win the daughters of Tuen, and
we have examples of this in Hindll story. In the Alha Khand, the Hindf
version of which is sUlnmal'ized by Mr. G. A. Grierson in the Indian Antiq1.tary,
1885, p. 256, we are told that" one day, as Malna, Parmal's wife, was taking
the air on the balcony of her palace, Indra saw her and became enamoured of
her. So every ;.tight he used to visit her, cOIning down fronl heaven on a flying
horse. "
Italian Tale of the F1"ia1" as an Angel. 453
,vith a 'staff in his hand. Seizing me by the hood, he so belaboured
me ,vith the staff that I was well-nigh dead. On asking the reason
for such treat111ent, the youth replied: 'Because you presume to
despise the surpassing beauty of the signora Lisetta, ,vhom I love
above all things.' , l\.nd \vho arc you', I inquired, to which
he ans,Yered: 'An angel.' Hearing this, I humbly besought him to
forgive me. Said he: 'I do so, on condition that you go to her at
the first opportunity and obtain her pardon, which if she ,vithhold,
I shall return frequently and thrash you as long as you live.' " The
lady at once pardons hiln, and he goes on to say that the angel bade
him intimate to her that it his purpose to visit her some evening
soon in llU111an form, and desired to know when she'd choose to see
hiIn, and ,vhose form and person she'd have hinl assume. The lady
is more than delighted, appoints that very night for the intervie,v
,vith her celestial lover, and says she doesn't lIare in ,vhose form he
may appear. Friar Albert suggests that the angel should aSSlune his
for111-she need not care, as his soul ,vould be all the while in a
trance. She agrees, ren1arking that it would be some a111ends for
the thrashing he had suffered. " But," says the friar, " as the angel
is to come in hU111an forIn, the door lllUSt be left unfastened." Yes,
it ,vould be so.
When night C0111es the friar goes to the house of a ,voman of his
acquaintance, ,vhere he fits hi111self ,vith a pair of "angels' 'wings,"
etc., and flies into the lady's chalnber, \vhere he reluains till just
before dawn, ,vhen he departs in the san1e manner. The- lady boasts
of her angel-lover to all her neighbours, who are tickled ,vith the
idea, and -the affair is speedily kno\vn all. over Venice. But her
relatives set a private ,vatch over her dwelling. And one night
,vhen the friar comes to reprinland her for gadding about the
intrigue, he has no sooner taken off his wings 1 than the relatives are
thundering at the door. His only was to open the casement
and drop into the canal. Being a good swimmer, he crosses to the
other side in safety, enters the open door of a cottage, tells the man
he finds there a pack of lies, and is granted shelter. His host, ho'v-
1 The lady must have been more than" shnple " if she thought it quite
Dutural for an angel to take off his wings on any occasion I
454 of the SqttiTe's Tale.
ever, presently locks hin1 in and goes about his business in the city,
,vhere he hears of the lady's relatives having discovered the "\vings in
her chalnbe1', and at once concluc1illg that he has got the culprit f:)afe
under lock and key, hastens home to i11fo1'n1 the friar that unless he
send imnlediately fOl'fi ve ducats for his ransom he ,vill
deliver hiln up to the lady's friends. The ransonl-nloney is obtained,
and t.he friar is eager to be off, but the shre,vd fello'v is not done
'with hinl yet: in brief, he first exhibits Father Albert in the nlarket-
place disguised as a wild nl8,n of the ,voods, and then pIlicks off his
mask, ,vhen he is recognized by t,vo friars of his ovvn convent,
arrested, and thro wu into prison.'

UNDER the title of "The Tale of Friar Onion: in Purgatory


he ,vas tornlented with Wasps," this last version has been adapted
by the anonynlons author of Tarlton's NeWAS out of PUTgat()?-ie,1 and
it is passing strange that l\fr. J. O. Hrdlhvell (no\v Halli\veIl·
Phillipps), "rho edited a reprint of this little book for the (old)
Shakspeare Society in 1844, should "not recollect nleeting ,vith
this story in any other ,vriter under exactly the salne forl11 as here,"
though he thinks" it is probably fronl S0111e Italian or French
collection." lVloreover, he observes that the nanle of Friar Onion
had been "evidently taken frOln the tale in Boccaccio, Giorn. vi.,
K ov. 10," 'which is a quite different story frolll that of Friar AlbeIt,
the adapter of 'w hich, in Ta l'lt on,s has in 80111e respects
inlproved upon his original. The nanle of the deluded la.dy is
Lisetta, as in Boccaccio, uut she is represented as a vvido\v, and
res5ding at Florence; and the friar-in place of taking a friend "\"ith
hinl to her house, and there telling her that an angel has becon1e
enamoured of her-tells 11e1' vvhile she is at confession that the angel
Gabriel hau appeared to hin1 the other night., and " charged tiJe t ) do

t Tal'lton'.<:; Nrn:es out of Onell! liilCh a jest as IUs Jiflfl C, fit


.fo7' GentleJ7wn to lauglt at an llOure, cS-Of Published by an old acqua·intanoe
of hi.r.;, Robin Goo(lfel101c.-This work" was pulllished 80011 after Tarltoll's
death," according to lVIr. Halliwell-Phillipps. "and his nan1e \vas connectt!d
with it no douut as all additional attraction for the purchaser."
Old English Vt rS'io'n. 455
his earnest comlllendations unto you, ,vith prolnise tLat, if he lllight
he assured of your secrecye, hee ,voulJ at convenient tinles visit you,
anJ intertaine you with such love as befitteth such holy spirits."
Another inlprOVelllent is found in this passage: "Madam (quoth he),
for that the l\ngell Gal)riell is a spirite, and his brightnesse such as
no 11101'tall eye can suffer, and therefore lllust con1e unto you in sonle
lllunane shape, I pray you vouchsafe that ll1Y bodie may be the
receptacle for hilll" that, vvhile he putteth Oll my carkasse, 1ny soule
1nay enjoy the sight and pleasures of lJarad-ice,o so shall you not
hinder yourself, and doo 11le an unspeakeable benefite." Friar Onion
vvas evidently one of those genuine hUlllorists ,vho can secretly
chuckle at their o,vn jokes, ,vithout requiring the appreciative sllliles
of others! Passing over the narrative of the first interview, and the
subsequent pu1lic talk about it, \vhich does not differ Inaterially in
details £1'0111 that of Boccaccio, but is better told, it is \vorth while
to reproduce here the relllaining part of the story, as even the reprint
of Ta1'lton' 8 Newes 1 ather scarce:
"This was vvoorke enough for nine dClyes, for the wonder of
Lysetta's barne 1 went through all Florence; so that at last
it callle to the eares of Lisetta's freencls, who} greeved that such a .
clanl0r should be raysed of their kins'woman, kno\ving her folly,
thought to \"atch neere, but they \vould take the angell Gabriell, and
clip his \viuges from flying. 'Vell, secrete thry kept it, and Inade as
though they had not heard of it, yet kept they such uilligent watch,
that they kne\v the night \vhen the angell \VGuld descenJ to visit
l.ybetta: whereupon they beset the house round, and as soone as
Onyo11 ,vas in, and had put off his \vinges, and ,yas gone to
bed, the rushing in of the ,vatch 'wakened hiln frolll his rest, and
that with sueh a vengeance, that, trusting I1101'e to his fecte than his
feathers, he left Madalll Lysetta alllazed at the noise; and lIe him-
selfe \vas so sharpely beset and so neere taken, that he was faine to
leape out of a high garrett windo\v, and so alnlost brake his necke,
into a little narro\v lane. 'VeIl, his best joint scapte, but he ,vas

1 Are we to understand by this term - barne = bairn-that the lady had


ncLually a ballY as the result of the" angel's" visits, which, in this case, don1t
seenl to have been" few and far betweeu " ?
456 of the Tale.

sore brused: yet feare made him forget his fall, that a\vaye he ran to
a poore man's house, 1vhere he sa1V a light, and there got in, making
an excuse ho\v he had fallen alllong theeves, and so desired lodging.
"The man, having heard talke of the angell Gabriell, knowing
very ,veIl Friar Onyon, that kne,ve not hilll, l(;t hinl have lodgir:g
very ·willinglye, but all this ,vhile that he escapt, ,vere I.Jysetta's
freends seeking for the saint that so tenderly loved their kinse,vonlan :
but they could not finde him, and to heaven he had not flo,vne, for
they had found his wings; sorrye they were that Gabriell had mist
thenl; but they chid hard, and rebuked the fo11ye of Lysetta's selfe
love, that was not onely so credulous, but such a blab aR to reveale
her o\vne secretes: it ,vas late, and because they had mist of their
pnrpose they departed, leaving Lisetta a sorrowfull ,Yoman, that she
was so deceived by the angell Gabriell.
" Well, night passed, and the nlorning call1e, and this paore Illan,
]'riar Onyou's hoast, told him that he knewe not how to shift hin) :
for there ,vas that day a great search for one Fryer ()nyon, that had
escaped naked fr0111 Lysetta's house, and ,vhoso kept hiln in secret
should have his eares 11ailde on the pillory: at this the friar started
and said, 'alas! freend, I anl the nlan, and if by any nleanes thou
eanst canvay llle to the dortor 1 of our friorye, I will give thee fortye
duckats': 'if you 1vill,' quoth his hoast, ' follo,ve nlY coul1sayle, fear
not, I ,vill conveye you thither safe and unknowne j and thus, this
d:lye there is great she,ves 11lade before the Duke of Florence, and
sights to be seene, and divers ,vylde llleu, disguised in strango
attire, are brought into the 111arket place: no,v I will dresse you in
SOlne strange order, and 'with a nlaske over your face, lead you
anlongst the rest, and ,vhen the she"we is done, carrying you as though
I carrye you h0111e, I ,vill conveygh you into the dortor back-
siJe secret and unknO\VnB.' Although this seenled hard to the friar,
yet of t,vo evils the least ,yas to be chosen, and he consented to
suffer what the hoast \vould devise. Whereupon hee that ,vas of a
pleasant conceipt used hinl thus: he annointed hirn over ,vith barIne
Inixed ,vith honeyc, and stuck hinl fun of feathers, and tying him
by the necke with a chaine, put a visor on his face, and on either
1 The dormitory.
Old English Ve1rs'ion. 457

side tide a great ban dogge; in this equipage marched this


poore man \vith the friar. He \vas no sooner con1e into the open
streete, but tIle people, never having seene s,uch a sight before in
}i'!orence, did not only \vonder at the strangenesse of his dressing,
but nlul'vailed \vhat this novelty should nleane; ,vhereupon an
infinite nlll111)er, not onelye of the conl111on sorte, but of the gravest
citizens, follo,ved to see what should be the end of this ,vonder.
" vVith a solelllne pace ll1arched his keeper till he caOle to the
Inarket place, where, tying hin1 to a great piller that stoode there, he
then let make in an places of the citie solenlne proclamation, that
,vhoso should see the angell Gabriell, should presently conle to the
nlarket place, alid" beholc1e hinl there in that alllorous dignitie that
hee did usually visit the dallles of :B-'lorence. At this proclau1ation
there \vas a generale concourse of people, especially of the better sort,
that had heard of Lysetta's loves, so that the Duke hinlselfe canle
thither, and all10ngst the rest Lysetta's ldnslnan. 1 vVhen all the
l.narket place ,vas full of people, the Iloast pulled the visor frorn the
friar's face; a,t \vhich the people gave a great shoute, clapping their
hands and crying, 'the allgell Gabriell, the angell Gabriell, he that
C0111eS froll1 heaven to Inake us "veare ho1'nes ! ' I neede not, I hope,
illtl'eate you to beleeve that poore Friar Onyon \vas heavilye per-
plexed, especiallye \vhen the day gre\ve hotte, he naked and annointed
\vith h011ye, so that all the \vaspes in the citie, as it \vere by a
ll1iracle, lefte the grocers shops, and canle to visite the friar, because
his skin ,vas so s\veete, but alas to the poore 111an'S paiues, that lle
was ahnost stung to death. Divers of his convent canle thither to
see the strang8 apparition of the angell, ,yha \vhen they sa\y he \vas
Fryar Onyon, then they eovered there 2 shaven cro\vnes \vith their
cooles, and \yent hon1e \vith a flea in their cares. Thus all daye
stood the poor friar, \yondered at of all the people of Florence, and
tOrlnented wit.h waspes, and at night fetcht h0111e to the dortol' hy
some of his brothers: he \vas clapt in prison, \vhere for sorro\v poore
Gabriell died, and because he did so dishonor the other fryars, he
,bides this tOl'lnen t in purgat,orie." 3
1 Probably a misprint for kinsnwn. 2 l\iispl'int for tlleir.
3 Near akin to these stories of nlen personating deities and angels, to
accomplish their own wicked purposes, is the seventh n01.:ella of Doni, who
458 Analogues Co·mpatred.

CONCLUSION.
KEIGHTT-JEY thought the story of the Ebony Horse was of Persian

extraction, but he does not adduce any particular reasons for his
opinion. It is evident that all the versions are more or less nearly
related, though some of thenl may be found to differ considerably in
details. In Cleornades the princess asks the hero if he be not a certain
king ,vho has sought her in nlarriage of her father, and he pretends
that he is that personage. In the Arabian tale of the Ebony Horse
the hero pretends only to the eunuch that he is the lady's intended
husband. But in other versions 01' variants the hero-or i111postor-
personates, for his o,vn evil purpose: the Angel of Death, in the
second Arabian story; l\Iuhanl111ed, <in the first Persian and the angel
Gabriel, in the second; the (laity Vishnll, in the Sanskrit; the" son
of the good God," in the first Gipsy version; and so Oll.
'"rhe versions "which present the closest reselnblance arc, ,vhat I
consider as the Sanskrit prototYlJc, of the 'Veaver as Vishnll, and the
flourished in the 15th century, of which my friend 1\11'. Chas. J. Pickering has
kindly furnished me with the following abstract:
Jacopo Pagni, a solemn rogne, for whonl, through his gallantries, Genoa
becarlle too hot, betakes him to a valley twenty nliles off, get:s hold of a
simple W01l13.11, and begins to preach to her the blessed life C" la 'vita' beata");
n1akps her believe that God is going shortly to "bring about the end of the
world, hut that, for the purpose of deprecating and delaying the execution of
hi::; wrath, a "congregation of devout persons" should be formed, to live in
C01n111on under" a rule of good life." His fair saint gathers her sisters about
her. and he ordains a convelltual rule on the Bible: that their speech
should be Yea, yea, and Nay, nay, and that" seven women shall lay hold of one
" iv. 5). flaving read th8111 all the" Penitence of Fra
he tells then1 that the cherubims are con1ing down to gather their. praym'8,
and that in noLhing they gainsay their will. Certain rascals of his
acqnaintnnce so order it that the women begin to whisper to en'ch (lther, "I
aln visited by such and such a cherubin1." Then the women are told they
will Lrillg forth" angels," who will fight Antichrist, and n1ake then1 blessed.
In nine 1l1onths, when the game is patent C" la festa si ''), he tells
tbeln that their angels' wings will not gl'OW for three years, until the" adorat.ion
of the l\lagi." Bu t the joke does not go so far, because one of thenl dies. The
ganle is therefore now played out; so Jacopo junlps oyer the wall by night,
and escapes, no one kno\ys where. "God help the country," adds the story-
teller, ,. where that rascal settles do\v111 "
A nalog1tCS a 45D

second Persian, of the Weaver as the angel Gabriel. In both ,,'"e


have a weaver and a carpenter, and though in one they are rivals in
love and in the other are close friends, yet again in both it is the
carpenter "who nlakes the magical nlachine; ,vhile the essentially
Hindu device, of representing the god Vishn"li himself as defeating
the king's foes, is very naturally changed by the adapter to
the incident of the weaver sho\vering d01Nn stones on them £ronl his
flying chest in mid-air; and even here the parallel does not stop, for
in both the king forgives his son-in-law's in1postnre. 1
There is a striking point of reselnblance in the second Arabian
tale and the Sanskrit prototype: in one the fellow pretends to be
the angel of death, conle to seize the souls of the king and his family,
unless the princess comply 'with his ,vishes; in the other the pre-
tended Vishnu threatens to pronounce a curse which should reduce
the raja and his faluily to aRhes. S0111e traces of silnilarity, too, may
he found in the Sanskrit, the first Persian, and the second Gipsy
we have a luan desperately in love and his friend constructing
for hin1 a ,vooden bird, by means of which he gains access to the
,veIl-guarded chanlbel' of the princess; ,ve have a ruined spendthrift
obtaining fron1 a chance acquaintance a flying chest; and this latter
is curiously reversed in the Gipsy version, ,vhere it is the ruined
youth "rho nlakes a pair of 11lagic wings and sells them to "the
enlperor's son." The incillent of the princess being carefully locked
up in consequence of a prediction that she should he deflo\vered
son1e day by a strange 11lan occurs in the first Persian and the first
Gipsy versions. In this conlparative analysis I pass over the
Turkish story, as it is so evidently a n1ere inlitation, though the
circulnstance that here, as in Chancer, it is an Indian ,vho comes
,vith the 11lagic steed may be of SOlne significance. ,,\Tith regard to
the Latin and Italian stories, I shall content 111Y8elf 'with saying that,
though in the £o1'n1er there does not seelll to be a deus ex 1nachina,
both are akin to the tales ,vhich precede then1, \vhile the Italian
and aIel English versions, \vith the" angel's \vings," have probably
1 In the first Persian tale, Malik, wllen his Flying Chest has been destroyed,
goes to Cairo and there becomes a weave')': nlay there not be in this an iudication
that the writer had some vague recollection of a version in which the man was
originally a weaver
460 B?Ylndl's ]{ey to the Tale.

some indirect connection "vith the first Gipsy story and the second
Persian, of the 'Veaver as the angel Gabriel.

Referring to the Second Part of the Squ£l'e's Tale, \'Tarton (Hlst.


of Eng. PoetTY) says: "Every reader of taste and illlagination 111ust
regret that, instead of our author's tedious detail of the quaint effect
of Canace's Ring, in which a Falcon relates her alllours and talks
fanlHiarly of Troilus, Paris, and J aSOll, the notable achievenlents ,ve
ll1ay suppose to have been perfOfl11ed by the 11o1'se of 13rass are either
lost, or that this part of the story, by far the 1110st interesting, ,vas
never ,vritten ... By such inventions ,ve are 'willing to be deceived.
These are the triulllphs of deception over truth. " No doubt every
reader regrets the unfinished state of this spil'ited tale. But 'vhat
,,,ould "Tarton have thought had a learned and astute scholar told
hilll that the Tale is a historical allegory, and that the "tedious
-detail of the aUlours of a Ifalcon" recounts the nlisfortunes of an
-English princess Yet such a theory ,vaR propounded in 1888, and
vvith the characteristic ingenuity and subtlety of the Tcuton ll1ind,
by Professor Brandl, of Gottingen, in Englische Studien, XII., 161--,,-
174. According to Dr. Brandl's theory-)vhich, ho\vever, he has
since, I understand, seen reason to reject--Caulbyuskan is ll1eant
to represent Ed\vard Ill.; his two sons, Algarsif and Canlballo, are
\vard the Black Prince and John of Gaunt, "tirne-honoured
I.Jancaster." The lTIain object of the Tale, had it been conlpleted,
,vas to celebrate the valiant deeds of Lancaster in Spain. Canace,
though very plainly called by Chancer the king's daughter, is really
his dalJghter-in-la,v, namely, Constance de PadilIa, the eldest daughter
of PedI'o the Cruel, of Castile, and the second 'wife of John of Gaunt.
The Falcon is Elizabeth, daughter of I..Iancaster and his first ,vife
13lanche. The Tercele t , vvhose unfaithfulness the :Falcon nlourns, is
John de Hastings, EaTl of Penlbroke, vvho married Elizabeth, but
divorced her in 1389 or 1390, and married Philippa, sister of l-toger
Mortimer, Earl of l\'[arch, and she, of course, 11lUst be the IeitR for
,,,horn the TeI'celet abandoned the Falcon. The SquiTe's l-rale nlust
have been written early in 1390, not only before the death of Penl-
broke-,vhich occurred in a tourney in that yoar-but oofure his
D1". .B1"andl's Key to the Sq1l/i1'e's Tctle. 461
second nlarriage, for it ,vas clearly Chaucer's intention to end his
tale "with his reconciliation to his \vife-the Peregrine-" through
nlediation of Canlballo," or Lancaster. Possibly it ,vas Penlbroke's
second marriage and his sudden death, not to speak of the 11larl'iage
of Elizabeth -the Peregrine-vvith John de Rolande, that caused the
poet to leave his tale half-told. If ,ve had the rest of the poenl,
it \vould probably "describe the glorious reign of Ed,Yard Ill.
(Cal:nbyuskan), and the exploits of the Black Prince in Spain (1367).
We should also hear ho\v John of Gaunt took part in' the Spanish
canlpaign, vvinning his second \vife Constance (Canace) by assisting
one brother (Pedro the Cruel) against another (Enriqne de Trasta-
l11ara). A reco:rtciliation brought about by hinl (' through nlediation
of Camballus ') bet,veen Elizabeth and the unfaithful Pelllbroke ,vas
to form the happy conclusion of the ,vhole."
Such is Professor Brandl's key to the Squire's J'ale. But it deals
only with the Second Part, for all \ve get by \vay of explanation of
the First Part is, who are represented by the fictitious nalues of the
characters, \vith the exception of Eltheta, tIle 'wife of Call1byuskan,
\VhOnl Brandl does not attmnpt to identify. As for the presents
brought by the Indian knight, all ,ye are told is, that the Horse is
"a symbol of kingly po\ver;" the pin in its ear is "the \voru of
cOlnnlund" (but \vhat Uleans the" other pynne," by the " trilling" of
which the steed "vas nlac1e to and the naked sword is
Hinlply "a sY111bol of the royal prerogative "-it cuts through all
arlllour \vith the edge, but heals every \vound by a touch, " of grace,"
with the flat of the blade. Nothing in the shape of explanation is
vouchsafed us regarding the lVIirror and the Ring.
Dr. Beandl's theory, ingenious as it is undoubtedly and ,vrought
out with 111uch skill, received its death-blow f1'o'111 Professor G. L.
Kittr'edge, of Harvarcl University, U:S., in a paper entitled" Sup-
posed Historical Allusions in the Squire's Tale," \vhich also appeared
in Englische Stuclien, XIII., rp. 1-24, and .in \vhich he conclusively
clClllonstrates that it cannot possibly be supported by historical data.,
:that· it is not only inconsistent \vith Chaucer's language but incon-
sistent with itself. Nevertheless, nothing but thanks and praise are
due to Dr. BrancH's 11l0st laborious effort to throw fresh light upon
462 DJ", 13??andts Key to the Squire's Tale.
what has beon consi\lered as the nlost interesting of the
Canterbury Tales, and it n1ay be said that it required not less lalJour
and ingenuity than his own to prove the fallacy of his theory.
I cannot believe, with Dr. Brancll (but I preslul18 he no ll)nger
entertains the opinion), that this poen1 was not originally designed
for the Canterbury Tales. The Second Part 1night be Inennt for an
allegory, but, if it ,vas, it ,vould be quite out of keeping ,vith the
First Part, in vvhich it is i111possible for any reasonable man to con-
ceive a hidden signification. The scene between Canace and' the
Falcon is essent:ally Asiatic, and Warton's c0111plaint that the bird is
represented as talking of Troilus, Paris, and J ason is utterly absurd.
It is, in fact, an Indian fable, ,vith a bird talking out of the Grecian
classics instead of out of the Vedas and the Shastras. If the poet
had any purpose in \vriting the story of the deserted Falcon it
could have been only that of any Asiatic fableI', l1anlely, to convey
certain moral lessons through the feigned speech of a bird. 1"hat
Chaucer had before him, or in his luelnory, a luodel for his story of
the Falcon is not only possible but highly probable. There exists
a sonle,vhat analogous ancient Indian tale of t,vo birds-a male parrot
and a hen-nlaina, a species of hill which, however, it is
the n1ale bird who is distressed at the female's treachery, and is about
to cast himself in the midst of a forest fire, when he is rescued by a
benevolent traveller; to Wh0111 he relates the story of his ,voes. This
tale forms the third of -the T\venty-five Tales of a Va111pyre (Vetdla-
panchavinsati) , and 111ay be found in Tawney's translation of the
Katlui Sarit Srigara, vol. ii. pp. 245-250. In the Hindl version of
the Van1pyre Tales (Baitdl Pachisi) it is the fourth recital, and the
sixth in the Tamil version (Veddla Kadai), both of \vhich have been
translated into English. It also occurs in Samal Bhat's Gujarati
metrical version of the Sinluisana DwatTinsali, or Thirty-two Tales
of a Throne, where it forn1s the twentieth recitaL-A.nd no,v I con-
clude with the words of Prof. Kittredge: "For all that appears to
the contrary, the world has been right for the last five hundred years
in regarding the Squire' 8 Tale as nothing n10re or less than a
romance."
ADDITIONAL NOTES.

lflAGIO HORSES.
IT is perhaps worth while to nlention here one or two other very rernark..
able magical, or fairy, steeds which escaped being noticed ill the proper place.
According to the Spanish legend which purports to account for the origin
of the princely fau1ily of .Haro, Don Diego Lopez, lord of Biscay, was lying in
,vait for the wild boar, when he heard the voice of a W0111an singing. The
damsel was standing on the summit of a rock, exceedingly beautiful and rich ly
attired. Don Diego offered to marry her. She told him that she was of high
degree, and accepted hand, on this condition, he was never to pronounce a
holy name. The fair bride had one foot. like the foot of a goat, and this was
her only blemish. Diego loved her ,vell, and had two children by her, a SOIl,
named Iniguez Guerra, and a daughter. It happened as they were sitting at
table that the Lord of Biscay threw a bone to the dogs; a mastiff and a spaniel
quarrelled ahout it, and the spaniel griped the mastiff by the throat and
strangled hitn. "Holy l\Iary!" exclainled Don Diego, "who ever sa:w the
like I " The lady instantly grasped the hands of hel' children. Diego seized
the brother, but tIle mother glided through the air with the danghter to the
mountains. 1 In course of time Don Diego Lopez invaded the land of the
1\1:oors, who took him captive and bound him, and as a prisoner they led hiul
to Toledo. Greatly did Iniguez GUeI'ra grieve at the captivity of his father;
and the men of the land told him that there was no help unless he could find
his u1other. Iniguez rode alone to the mountains, and, behold! his fairy Inother
stood on a rock. "1\ly son," said she, "come to me, for well I know thy
errand." And she called Pardallo, the horse who ran without a rider in the
u10untains, and put a bridle in his mouth; and told Guerra that he
nlust give him neither food nor water, nor unsaddle hiln, nor unbridle hin},
nor put shoes on his feet.; and that in one single day the denlon steed would
carry him to Toledo.--The steed of Iniguez Guerra relninds us of the luysteri.
1 "VVhen a fairy consented to espouse a human being, she usually enjoiuec1 on her
husband secrecy, constancy, and inlplicit-unquestioning-obedience to her corn·
mands, and should he act contrary to this condition he should for ever forfeit her
love, but sometimes the penalty was for a liInited period. This is fully exeulplified
in the romance of lJIIelusine, and the of Si?- Gnuflan and /":,z,r Lanval,.. in the
Persian story of King Ruzvanshah and his fairy bride, and the Turkis l1 story (frOl11
the Persian, no doubt) of King Yashrah and the daughter of the gelJii, for both of
which Ree my Eastern Romances and St01"ies, pp . 472-474.
LANE. H H
464 Addit1;onal Notes.
ous horse of Giraldo de Cabrerio, the Knight of Catalonia, who always brought
good fortune to his master. This horse could dance amongst the beauties of
the court of King Alphonsus to the sound of the viol, and do many other acts
bespeaking strange intelligence, far surpassing a horse's capacity. Gel'vase of
Tilbury could not settle the gen1ls of this animal to his satisfaction: "If he
was a horse," exclaims the chancellor, "how could he perform such feats? If
he was a fairy, why did he, eat? " 1
A king wins a beauteous bride by means of a flying horse in a Siamese
I'omance entitled Nang P'J'atlw'in. This is a story of a wonderful lotus, which
a rishi (holy man) saw in a tank, and which after some tinle increased to such
a size that be was induced to open it. To his great surprise, he found a fenlale
child in the cup, which he brought up. When grown to W0I11an'S estate, she
longed for society, and wrote on a slip of paper an account of her solitary
mode of life with the hernlit, and tying it to a nosegay cast it to the winds.
A certain king had a dream, in which he was directed to go in quest of a par-
ticular bouquet of flowers. He awoke, and mounting a flying horse set off
towards the east. Passing over the 1'ishi's house, he was attracted by plaintive
and exquisite vocal music. The flying horse instinctively descended to the
earth. The king inquired of the lotus-born damsel if she knew to whom the
nosegay belonged. She, abashed at the sight of a youthful person of the
other sex, rushed into the hom;e and closed the door. The king pretended to
be faint from fatigue, and at his humble intercession was adnlitted into the
house, where he so gained the affection of the girl that she consented to become
his wife, and on the return of the rishi from the forest he uni ted them in

Cervantes avowedly bOlTowed the idea of the vVooden Horse in Don


Quiwote, of which he makes such diverting use, from the romance of Peter of
Provence, but Keightley asserts that there is no such steed in that romance.
There is not, certainly, in Tressan's ewtra'it of the old French version, which
Keightley has Englished; but soon after I began to gather luaterials for these
papers I came upon a statement, in an old Qua1'teJ'ly I think, to the
effect that in SOlHe Spanish version-and there can be no doubt of the l\iorisco-
Spanish origin of the romance--the Fair Maguelone is carried off by the hero
on a Magic Horse of wood; and I considered this of sufficient authority to
"make a note of," which note I cannot now find, unfortunately.

MAGIO RINGS.
THE dwarfs and elves possessed rings by means of which they discovered
and gained for themselves the treasures of the earth. 'They gave their friends
magic rings which brought good luck to the owners as long as they were care-
fully preserved, but the loss of thenl was attended with unspeakable misery.
1 See the very interesting article on 'Popnlar Mythology in the l\iiJdle Ages,'
in the Quarterly Revie'lo, No. XLIV., Jalluary, 1820.
2 From an account of Siamese Literature, by Capt. James Low, in
Researches, vol. xx. part 2,
Additional Notes. 465
A Polish count once received a ring of this kind fronl a mannikin, whom he
bad allowed to celebrate his Dlarriage festivities in the state-roollls of his
castle. vVith this jewel on his finger he was lucky in all his undertakings;
his estates prospered; his wealth becanle enormous. His son enjoyed the
same good fortune, and his grandson also, who both inherited the talisnlan in
turn. The last heir gained a prince's coronet, anrl fought with distinction in
the Polish army. He accidentally lost the ring while at play, and could never
recover it, although he offered an immense reward for its restoration. Fr0111
that moment his luck forsook him; locusts devoured his harvest, earthquakes
swallowed his castles.!
There seems indeed no end to the ,vonderful qualities of magic rings. In
a Hungarian Gipsy tale an old 'woman says to the hero: "Go into that cap,tle,
and there is a lady, and take from her the ring, and put it on thy hand, and
turn it thrice, and then so much meal and bread will be to thee that thou wilt
not know what to do with it." 2
In the romance of lJIelltsi,ne tllat fairy lady gives two magic rings to Ray-
mondin, her husband elect, of which, she informs him, "the stones ben of
gl'ette vertue. For the one hath suche appropriete, that he to whome hit shal
be gyuen by paramours or loue, shal not dey by no stroke of no manere of
wepen, ne by none armes, as longe ap, he shal bere it on hym. And the other
is of such vertue, that he that bereth it on hym, shal baue victory of all his
euyl willers or enemyes, al be it pletyng in Courtes, or fygbtyng in feldes, or
ellis whersoeuer it be: and thus, my friend, ye may goo surely." And when
hel" sons Dryan and Guyon are setting out to help the king of Cyprus, wbo is
uesieged by the sultan of Damascus, she gives each a magic ring, saying:
" Uhildren, here be two rynges that I gyue you, of whiche the stones ben of
one lyke vertue. And wete it that as long that ye shall vse of feythfulnes,
without to think ellY euyl, ne doo trychery or hynderaunce to other, hauyng
al wayes the said rynges & stones vpon you, ye shall not be dyscomfyted ne
ouercome in no faytte of al'mes, yf ye haue good quarell. Ne also sort or
enchauntment of art Magique, ne poysons of whatsomeuer manere shul not
lette ne greve you, but that assoone as ye shall see them they shall lese theyre
strengthe." 3
LANGUAGE OF ANljl:lALS.
THE Troubadours of Provence and their northern brethren the Trouveres
were fond of introducing talking birds in their compositions. Thus in the
fablia'u of Florence and Blanchefleur, also called Hueline and Eglantine,
or the Judgment of Love, the two damsels dispute regarding the relative
1 Asgard and the Gods: Tales and of our Northern Ancestors. Abridged
from Dr. 'Vagner's work. London, 1884, p. 41.
2 One of five Hungarian Gipsy tales given in Beitl'age ZU1' Kenntniss de'l" Rom.
Sprache, by Dr. Friedrich Muller, Vienna, 1869.
3 Pages 33 and 110 of the old English prose romance of Melusine, now being
printed for the Early Engr sh Text Society, from a unique l\tIS. of about the year
1500. It was originally written in :f'rench by J obn of Arras, and was commenced,
he inforn1s us, on St. Clement's Day, 1387.
HH2
466 Additional Notes.
superiority of a knight or a clerk as a lover, and at length subn1it their case
to a court of Love. The sparrowhawk, lllagpie, cuckoo, jay, and falcon are in
favour of knighthood; the wren, dove, lark, and goldfinch are in favour of
clerks. Then the nightingale conles forward as the chanlpion of clerks, as being
1l10st courteous, and a battle ensues between him and the parrot., and the
nightingale is victor. Florence dies of a broken heart, and on her tonlb these
words are inscribed: "A Knight's fair mistress here sepulchred lies."
1\11'. F. F. Arbuthnot, in his Arabic Autlu))',']: Cl J1Ia'nual of A7'abian
IIi,story and Li,teJ'atuJ'e (which is at 011ce illstructive and entertaining), gives
the following little tale: S010n10n was returning to his palace one day when
he saw a pair of sparrows sitting near the gateway, and heard the luale Linl
telling his 11late that he was the person who designed and Luil t all the
surroundings. The sage monarch remarked to the male bird that he luuSt be
aware he was telling a lie, and that nobody would credit him. "That is true,"
replied the sparrow; "nobody will credit 11ly story, except TI1Y wife, who
believes everything I say."-There is another characteristic Eastern tale,
found in several collections: SolOlllon once sumu10ned the different kinds of
birds to his presence, and an were assembled but the sparrow, when the king
despatched the simurgh Ca nlythical Ifvuncle}'vogel, like the rukh, or roc, of the
Arabian tales) to ascertain the cause of his absence. The simurgh found the
sparrow in his nest along with his 11late, and, having- duly delivered the king's
11lessag-e, received for answer the sparrow's declaration, that he cared nothing-
for him or Solomon, which having been reported to the king, he observed that
allY person was excusable for in his own house, and in presence of his
o\vn wife.
Confab. of tlw Tlvo 370. Soulewhat akin to this story is one in
G'il Blas, Book VIII., ch. vi., 'where the hero gives his luaster, the Duke of
Lenna, a hint of his wretched condition under cover of what he calls " an
Indian story from Pilpay or some other fabulist" (it is not in any version of
the Fables of Pilpay known to me), to this effect: A Persian ulinister, Altal-
lunc, had a secretary nanled Zeangir, and one day while they were walking
together, they observed two ravens croaking on a tree, and Altalmuc wondered
what they were talking about. Zeangir said that a dervish had taught hin1
the language of birds, and after pretending to listen for son1e little time he
told his master that one bird was praising Altalmuc for his great wisdom, and
so on. "Fair and softly," says the other. "Look how he neglects his faithful
secretary Zeangir-never troubles hiu1self to inquire into his condition," &c.

ROJlfA1VCE Ol? OLEOjJfADES.

A MODERN French version-or rather abstract-of this entertaining 1'0·


n1ance, by the Chevalier De Chatelain, appeared at London in 18:;9:
conte t'J'adtdt en fee1'S fra1u;ais 1Jlorlm')w8, du t"ieu,n, la-ngage d'Adcnes li Iloy.
It was greatly lauded Ly the English press at the tiu1e of its publication, but
possesses little rnerit ;-it may be tern1ed a very Boule1'ardien 1'ccllaujJee.
Additional l.Votes. 467

'l'IIE FLYING OHEST' (p. 421)-lJfODERN GREEI{ VERSION.

IN Hahn's collection of Greek and Albanian popular tales, No. 46, the
friend of a rich man makes him a travelling chest which carried him through
the air whither he would. He comes to a countlT ruled by a king, of whose
daughter it had been predicted that an ad venturer would carry her off, so he
had shut her up in a castle. vVhen the traveller learns this he goes in his
chest to the castle, and gaining access to the princess tells her that he is "the
son of the dear God," who has sent him thither to take her to wife, because he
knows that her father is a righteous nUtll. The princess inforlllS her father of
this, and he believes it. 'fhe ilnpostor tells thelll: "To-morrow I shall not
come to you, for the dear God will thunder and lighten, but you nlust come
befoloe the t.own and worship him." Next day he buys a lot of powder and
pistols, and towards evening nlounts in his chest into the air, whence he shoots
down on the town, and nlakes such a racket that all the folk are terrified.
He then descends, hides his chest, and goes into the town to hear ,vhat the
king and his grandees are saying about the "nlanifestation." On returning
he finds his precious chest burned to ashes. He sets out to ask his friend
to nlake hinl a.nother chest., but he is dead. "The Idng and the great lllen
thought that something had displeased the dear God, and therefore he had
not allowed his son to return." 1
This version bears a general resemLlance to both the Arabian tale of the
Flying Ohair and the Persian tale of the Flying Ohest. No mention is made
in the Arabian version of the princess being shut up in a palace because of a
prediction of astrologers, though such is implied in the Persian story, fronl the
king's remark, when the damsel inforrns hinl that she is becollle the Prophet's
spouse: "I now see how useless it is to strive against the decrees of Fa.te.
Your horoscope is fulfilled. A traitor has seduced you!' '-po 423. On the
other hand the impostor's vanquishing an invading army is absent fronl the
Greek version. There is another point of resemblance in SOBle of the versions
to the Hindu prototype, in which the princess is confined in a palace having
seven p. 430: in the fit'st Gipsy tale she is shut up in a great house,
which is encircled by .r;eren high ?valls," p. 440; in the first Persian it is
"a lofty palace, with gates of China steel," p. 422. It is also to be noted that
the princess is discovered a.r;leep by the adventurer in Clpomade.r;, the Arabian
tale of the Flying Chair, the Persian tnle of the Flying Chest, and enchanted
in the Turkish and second Gipsy Vp. 389, 419, 422, 418, 443.
But what will perhH,ps he considered by story-con1parers as the most
remarkable feature of the Greek version is the man's" declaring him-
self to be "the sou of the good God," as in the tale of the Wooden
Bird (p. 441). Is this nlerely or did the Greek peasants derive the
idea fronl UipRy story-te]]ers? Observe, farther, that in both tales it is a
man who obtains feOlIl a fl'iend a luagical vehicle. And ret the Greek

1 'Del' l\iann nlit del' Reiskiste,' Hahn, 1. 261. F1'0111 notes to .1.\'11'. C1'oOlne'.s J1B.
collectioll of C;ipsy Tales-refe1're<1 to ill p. 4-11.
468 Addih'onal Notes.
is otherwise a much closer parallel to the Persian tale than to the
Gipsy variant, however this may have come through a SOIne·
what confused recollection of both versions.

'THE WOODEN BIRD.'


BEFORE citing the Gipsy tale of the 'Vooden Bird, I remarked (p. 439)
that there was in it a very distinct trace of Buddhist extraction. I omitted to
say afterwards that I do not understand what Dr. vVlislocki can mean when
he says of this tale that ,. the description [da'J'stellung is his word], in the
opening episode, of the sick beggar agrees with the Sanskri t features "-that
is, with the opening of the Hindu story of the "Veaver as Vishnu. It is true,
we have a man sick froIn love in the beginning of what I consider as the
Hindu prototype of all the di:fferent versions, hut-unlike the sick man in the
Gipsy tale-it is not he who constructs the 'V"ooden Bird but his friend. I
thinl{, however, that we mar fairly trace a resenlulance in the conclusion of
both tales: In the Hindu prototype the deity Vishnu himself comes to the
rescue of the imp08tor; in the Gipsy tale Saint Nicholas does likewise, in a
different manner, for" the rich man," after his wooden bird had disappeared.
And it may be farther worthy of note, for the of comparatively
analysing the several versions, that in the second Arabian, the first and second
Persian, and the first Gipsy tales, the inlpostor loses his lnagical conveyance-
moreover, we have a reflection of this also in the second Gipsy tale, where the
enlperor's son accidentally burns one of his magic wings and throws the other
away, as being then useless (pp. 420, 425, 426, 441, 444-). Still farther: in the
..Arabian tale of the Flying Chair, the genie of that rnagical vehicle proves a
sufficient substitute for St. Nicholas; while we find a striking parallel between
the first Persian and the first Gh>sy tales, in the circuIIlstance of there being in
each OIW courtier anlong the cou1pany of sycophants who had the courage to
express his belief that the whole affair was a swindle (pp. 423, 441).

'THE GOLDE1V STEED' (p. 449)-SEQUEL.


DR. FURNIV.ALL has suggested that I should give the rest of this story,
though it does not belong to our cycle, so here it is :
They come to the castle, they eat and drink, and then the priest's son says
to the princess: "This is your husband, lady! He is a king's son, and I aUI
the son of a priest." She was like to Inake a wry face, but she gulped down
her vexation and said: "I must put up with hhn." Then the two went to
sleep, and the priest's son hid hiu1se1£ to listen what the sorceress would say
when she saw them. The sorceress comes, and straightway her daughter says
to her: "Do you see? They've managed it-they've got her! " Then the
sorceress groaned, and her daughter asked: "Why do you groan, mother? "
She replied: "Why do you bother about the business of another? They will
find what. they were seeking." "Nay, but tell me, lllother darling, tell me too,
what is the nlat.ter. I beg it as a favour." " vVell! this girl's father invoked
Add'itional Notes. 469
a curse on her, thnt the first night a monster should appear and eat theln both
up, and whoever should hear and tell of it should be turned into stone."
Then they ate and departed. When they were gone, the priest's son, with a
heavy heart, wakes them up, and says to them: "It's time to be off now."
They arise and look at the priest's SOIl. His countenance is fallen. They ask
him what's the matter, but be only answers: "Bless you, brother, I could not
sleep, and that has spoiled 111y hunlour." "Vhen they arrived on the outskirts
of the town they saw it all in mourning, and asked some of the people why
the town was so afflicted, and they replied that the ldng had an only son, and
sent him with the son of a priest on an excursion with great pomp and escort,
and at night, while the guard was asleep, the two lads were lost, and nothing
had since been heard of their fate, or whether the wild beasts had devoured
them, and on this accqunt the king and the priest no longer desired to live.
'l'hen they said to the people: "Go, and give tidings that the prince and the
prie8t's son are both on their way home, and are bringing with t.hem the
E'airest Lady in the World." So they flung up their heels shoulders high,
each eager to run first to the king, and get from him the reward of the good
news that his son was cOlning home. 'Vhell the king heard it he ran out into
the road and met them and kissed thenl fondly, and brought them into the
palace. The worthy prie:3t went on like a madluan. Here was laughing 1-
there dances and songs !-and the \\7ho1e town became a paradise 1
As soon as evening fell the king called lords antI priests and married his
son. They sat for SOlue tinle at table eating and dl'inking and merry-making,
and afterwards got up to leave the happy couple to thetnselves. But the
priest's son said to the prince: "My brother, you know how hard I have
toiled that you might have this success. Therefore I have a favour to beg of
you, that I may sleep in the same room with you, and give me your word that
you do not yet consider her as your wife." 'Vhat ,vas the prince to do,
awkward as he felt it? "By all Ineans," he said; "be it as you will." So
the two lie down to sleep on the bed, and the priest's son seats himself in a
chair, with his sword in his hand. When it was close on midnight the wall
rent in twain, and in leaped a nlonster. Then the priest's son rushed towards
the bed with his sword, cut off the rnonstel"S heads, and flung him out at the
door, without making any mess. But the prince awoke at the noise, and,
seeing him standing over him with a drawn sword, supposed that he was
about to slay hhll, and set up a loud alarm. There was at once a great
hubbub in the palace, and everyone ran to ask what was the matter. The
prince cried and tore his clothes, and said the priest's son was going to kill
hinl through jealousy. They put every possible pressure on the priest's son to
tell them why he approached the bed with his dt'awn sword, but he feared to
coufe8s, for he knew that he'd be turned to marble. The priest and his wife
en treat the king's nlercy, but in vain. Then the priest's son says: "0 King,
li ve for ever! Behold now, since I have not slain your son, banish me to a
wilderness. 'Vhy do you wish file to perish guiltless?" "Nay-nay, but yOll
8hu.ll tell us," said the king. Then the priest's son could bear it no louger,
470 Additional Notes.
and he sakI: ., I have but one life to lose. vVhat does it nlatter? I am only-
grieved for my father and mother. But you will he sorry afterwards, and the
guilt of my undoing be on your heads." So he began to relate howevery-
thing had happened, and then how he heard from the sorceress that the girl's
father had invoked a curse to the effect that on the first night the wall should
be rent and a monster should come and eat them both up. "And this," he
added, "was why I rushed, sword in hand, and slew the monster, and cast hitn
forth, and if you doubt my words, come and see for yourselves. But the
sorceress said also that whosoever should overhear and repeat her words
should be turned to stone." And forthwith he changed to a marble block
and fell flat on the floor. Then they all began to pull their beards.
'Vhen some days had passed the princess said to her husband, that unless
he went to the sorceress to learn how to unlnarble the priest's son she would
send him away from her. So the prince started for the castle, sorely against
his will, for he was afraid. To make a short story of it, he reached the castle
and pretended to fall asleep. Again the sorceress and her daughter entered
and saw the prince. " Hey I" said the girl, "what does he want now, I
wonder? " ""Vhy, don't you remell1ber that I said that whoever overheard
and repeated those words of mine should be turned to stone? There ,vas Olle
hidden, who wen t and told them, and now this one has conle to hear sonle-
thing, so that he may go and restore him. But he will not be granted that
favour, I trow!" At last, after many entreaties of her daughter, she said:
"If he can only bring himself to slay the child which his wife shall bear him
upon the marble blocl\:, his friend will be restored to his proper form." The
prince heard this, and when they were gone he got up and went away. When
he came home the princess asked him what he had heard. Said he: "I
heard that the only cure is to kill the child that you shall bear, on the marble
block, but I cannot do such a thing." " I'll do it myself t " said she. "That
poor fellow sa ved us both when the monster would have devoured us, and you
would spare a little puling brat I" Her time came, and she gave birth to a
son, an angel of a child, and she slew it on the marble as if it had been a
chicken, such a heart of iron was hers. Trickle-trickle I and the marble all
melts away, and the priest's son comes to life again and says: "Ah, what a
heavy sleep I have had! and how lightly am I awaked I "Vho showed nle
this kindness?" In a little while he was thoroughly aroused and saw the
slaughtered child, and he learns how this had happened. Then he pitied the
babe, that it should have been slain on his account, and went off to the castle.
Now all this long while the priest's son had loved the daughter of the
sorceress, for she was the next in beauty to the princess, and he went with the
intention of taking her away. And when he arrived at the castle he found
the mother and daughter sitting at table. Says he: "Good day, ladies."
"Welcome, young master," says the mother; but the daughter looked to the
ground, as if she were ashalned, for she had him deep in her heart frOln
the 11l0ment she first saw him. " And why have you come?" "What shall
I say? I love your daughter, and that is what has brought me here again."
Add'itional Notes. 471
. The sorceress said: "Well, my daughter just suits you, and I loved you fronl
the moment you first set foot in this castle. Take her, and depart with my
blessing." And then she added: "Take this string also, and bind up tl{e
babe's throat with it, and he will be restored to life." Then they received the
old 'woman's blessing and kissed. her hand, and took as much treasure as they
could carry and departed. They returned to the town, and the priest's son
'went at once and bound up the infant's throat and restored him to life. And
in the evening the priest called together his brother priests and married his
son to the damsel.

This part of the Greek story is peculiarly interesting to students of folk-


lore, since it finds its prototype in the Tamil romance done into English under
the title of DI'avi(Uan Nights EnteJ'tai'nments, where the minister's son over-
hears a bird predict misfortune to the prince, and threatens death to him who
should reveal it to any person--see ante, page 352-and the conclusion of the
same work is also very similar. The killing of the babe, in order to restore
the priest's son to life, has its parallel in the old French rOlnance of An1 is
and Amiloun, which has been introduced into some versions of the Se'vel/.,
lJIaste1's, where the names of the two faithful friends are changed to
.Alexander and Ludovic-in short, the Greek story is a curious jumble of
incidents which properly belong to a number of quite different folk-tales.
472

INDEX
TO MR. CLOUSTON'S PAPERS ON rfHE SQUIRE'S 'l'..4LF}.

Abjer, the stred of Antnr, 280. Balll1uflg, the s\vord of Velent, 380.
Achilles, the spear of, 372. BalF:funo, Joseph, 318.
Adenes le Roj, 382, 383. /. ClsqUe. Lrgends, 365.
Ainsworth, W. H., 311. Beast-Fahle, origin of, 351.
'A,jcfib el-1nct'asir, &c., 362. BeaUlnont's description of" a Inagic
Albanian Tales, 28G, 288,347,365. glafs, 329.
AJchenl]sts, astrologerR 1 &c., 350. Beloe'H Mlscel1allies, 450.
TVars oj; 451. Benfey's 427.
Al-Fara,j ba'd al-Sldddah, 426. 1
Beryn, I ale 01, 275, 276.
A 1 ales of the, 289,305,358.
1
BibU0theque des romans, 385, 451.
Ali, lVII's. Meer Hasan, 413. Bidpay's FableR, 427.
AnL/s and Arniloun, 47l. Birnha-tree, 429.
Analogues cornpared, 411, 458, 467, Bird-langung-e, 348-351,465.
468. Birds, lllugieal wooden, 290, 430,
Ananga Ranga, 431. 440.
Andersen's Danish Tales, 425, 450. Birds, rnonstrol1s. 284.
Antar's steed Abjer, 280; his svvord Birds' predictions, stories of, 352,
Dhnmi, 377. 358,362.
Apollonius of Tyftna, 306. BirdR, secrets learned frotn, 351-
Arabian Tales, 283, 294, 304, 305, 355.
330, 331, 339, 348, 365, 377, 378, Birds, storief:; of 360, 36t.
413, 418. Biting and scratching, in love, 432.
Arabic nUlnera]s, 350. Blue, coloul' of trutb, 274.
Arbuthnot, F. F., 466. BoccacC'jo'f:; Decameron, 275, 452.
Archangels, the four, 419. Bojardo's Orlando Innanu)rafo, 379.
Arr'hytas the Tarentine, i99. Boys enlrloyed by Inagicians, 312,
Arddhanarisvara, 438. 3:20, 321, 327, 328.
Ariosto's 379. Brahlna, the egg of, 429.
A rthur's sword Excfllibar, 375. Brandl 011 the l 'ale, 460.
ANclllnedai = 1\ stnodeus, the "fami- Bridle, n1agiral in, 272, 287,
liar" of Solonl0n, 335. 446.
AHhlTIole, Elias, 31!. Broomstick, W-itCll'S, 296.
Auspicious day, 293. Bro\vn's '1'urldsh Everdngs, 363.
Autoruata, vvooden, 298, 299. Brovvne, Sir TllOS., on properties of
genls, 346.
Baron, Roger, 310, 312. Buddhist Birth-stories, 378.
Danush, 294. Burrnese Tales, 347.
] (dtal Pachisz, 462. Bnrton, 8:1' H. F., 285.
Balfour's eye. of India, 435. Butler's IIudibl'as, B11.
Index to ],{1\ OlO'ltston's Papers on the' Sq1.ti1·e's Tale.' 473
Cagliostro.31ft Dravidial1 Nights, 347, 352,450,471.
Carnbyuskan, the nan1P, 270. Dubois' Love ad ventures of Ladies
Carnoen's Lnshul, 309. of antiquity, 451.
Cmnpbell's Pupular Tales of the Durga, 414, 439.
TJTest H1'ghlands, 2R-t Dwarfs, as ring-makers, 464; as
Canace's Ring. 271, 340, 348, 356. sword-ruakers, 376.
Oanterbttry '.1 'ales, (;haracters \vith-
ont storieR, 275. Ebony Horse, story of the, 413.
Carpet, Flying, 294. 38Q
Celinde et Jlel hf/rchus, 384. Egyptian ron1ance, 352.
Ceylon, old nalnes of, 436. Ellis' Original Letters, 319.
Champion of England, 278. Enchanted girls, 373 418, 443.
i

Chariot$, Flying, 291-293; Chair, EngUsche Stuclien, 412,460, 461.


418; Chest, 42l. Esthonian Legends, 339, 349.
Charlernagne and his .dead rnistress, Excalibar) the s,vord of Arthur, 375.
342.
Cheval de Fust, 384. Fables, "morals" appended to, 370.
ChevaUer de l' Epee, 378. Fabliaux, 463, 465.
Ohild Horn, 380. Fairies and genii, 338.
Gldld Orm, 38l. Falcon and tercelet, 273; Indian
Clark, J. 1'., 302. analogue, 462.
Gliomades et 382-413, Finnish Tales, 379.
458,466. Firdausi's Shah Na'ma, 307, 370.
Clouston's Analogups of the Tale oJ Fish, gratefnl, 355.
Berryn, 276; Eastern R01n ances, FhJrence et Blanchflettr, 465.
287, 297, 339, 354, 463; Popular Flying Chair, story of the) 418.
Ta.les and FicMons, 273, 290, 291, Flying Chest, story of the, 421, 467.
355. Forgetfulness, rings of, 340, 34l.
COluparetti's Italian Tales, 363. Forty, the number, 287,
Constantinescu, B., 322. Frazer, J. G., 315, 348.
CO\V, sacred in Indin, 434. Frere's (:NIiss) Old ])eccan Days,
Crane's Italian ':Pales, 364. 298,354.
Friar as an Angel, 452,454.
Dalyell's Darlcer SupersUtlons 01 Furnivall, F. J., 265, 266, 275, 276,
Scotland, 310. 277,
Danish Ballads, Prior's, 378.
Danish Tales, 353, 425, 450. Gaelic Tales, 284, 295.
Dasellt's Norse 372, 377. Ganas, Ganesa, 438.
Davidson, Tho111nS, 428. Gandharva marriages, 341, 431.
Day's Folic-Tales of Bengal, 283. Garuda,430.
De Chatelflin, 466. Geldart's Fol1c-Lore of Modern
Dee's n1agic glass, 310, 311. Greece, 284, 445, 450.
Dern pster's (lYliss) Suthel'landshire rnagic, 342-347; natllral
Folk-Lore, 297. properties ascribed to gelns, 3-l6.
Dickins' Old Ba1nboo IIewer, 344. Genii and fairies, 338.
Digby, Sir Keneltn, 373. Geoffrey of lVlonllloutll, 305.
Vinar, an Arabian gold coin, 418. Gerrnan Tales, 291, 311, 3-:18, 35-1,
Divs, 291. 364, 367, 449.
Don Qu'ixote, 464. Gervase of Tilbury, 303 r 464.
Don Roderic, R06. Gesta R(/rnct1101'ttm, 34:2, 344.
Doni's Moral Pldlosophy, 428; J-7\[o- Gibb, E. J. "V., 330, 371, 416,
velle, 342, 457. G1'l Blas, 46G.
DO?Wll'S Albanian Tales, 287, 288, I Gipsy 294, 332, 377, 442,
347. I 465.
474 Index to ]1fT'. Clouston's PalJers on the Tale.'
Glanvil, tToseph, 315. Jfnnshld's flying throne, 295; magic
God\vin's Lflves of the Necrom,ancers, cup, or n1irror, 307.
311. Japanese Ta1es, 34-1.
Golden Steed, story of the, 445, Jdtal£as, or Buddhist Birth-stories,
468. 378.
GOl1zenbach's Sicilian Tales, 284. Jinns and peris, 338.
G-(HVer'S 00n/{',s8,,"0 ... 301. Joseph's divining' cup, 307.
Greek popular Tales, 284, 288) 365, Josephns' Ant. 451.
445, 450, 467, 468.
Green, colonr of'inconstancy, 274. Kail asa (or Indralold), 292, 293.
Groome, F. Hindes, 441, 467. Jialevala, 379.
Guest, Lady Charlotte, 277. E:ali, 439.
Gul-i-Balca wall, 353. KaIidasa's Sakuntala, 292, 341, 431.
Kalmuk Tales, 290, 347, 378.
f1a11n's Greek and Albanian Tales, E:an1adeva, 413, 428.
365,467. ifaraa Stttra'l 431.
IIales, John, 277. ]iatha $a1-it Sagara, 284, 285, 298,
flaIli well-Phillipps, J. 0., 277, 454. B51, 381, 436, 462.
IInnd, right or left, for rings, 339. E::eightley's :1'ales and Popular Fic-
Hari, 437. tlons, 382, 385, 405, 458, 464.
Hasselt, A. van, 383. KelTIpius De Oscu1'is, 450.
Tai', 343, 344. Khlg 277.
Hebrew Legends, 289, 294, 335,336, I\:irby's New Arrob'ian Nights, 304,
376. 378.
Hernan's (J\irs.), poem on the Jiitdb esh-Shayleh 'ila Sibahi,
Glass, 332. 431.
Hi7aiyat-i Afa'ib 11, Ghar£b, 426. Kite, 274.
Hindu Tales-see Indian Tales. I{ittredge, G. L., 412, 461, 462.
Hitopadesct, 428. Knights riding into I1alls, 276.
Horner's IUad, 292, 307; Odyssey, ICrishna, 349, 413, 431.
295.
IIood, 'I'homas, 279. Lakshrni, 430.
Horripilation, 433. Lane's (E. 'V.), Arab,:an N(ghts,
Horses, luagic, 272, 280-291, 387, 284, 304, 305, 348, 365; Mocle1'n
406, 409, 412,414,410,447,463. Egyp#ctns, 320.
Hungarian Tales, 287, 311, 355, 367, Lane's (John), "Continuation" of
378. the l ale, 265, 269, 273,
T

Huon of Burdeux, 305, 344. 276, 412.


Hurls of Paradise, 423. Langnage of Animals, 348-371,
465.
Icelandic Tales, 295. Lanka, 436.
lInage, fixing pins into, 313. Lee, Sidney L., 306.
Irnnges, magi_c, 302-306, 386) 414. Leger's Slav rrales, 288, 358, 368,
Indian Tales, 282, 283, 284, 285, 445.
290,291, 293, 296, 2 Q R, 330, 343, Legl'and's Greek Tales, 288.
347, 351, 352, 354, 361, 368, 373, Leland's Itinerary, 281.
381,427,428,436,452,462. 290.
Indra, 292, 293. en- Nisa, 431.
Irving's Spanish Papers, 306; Tales Lucian's story of Pancrates, 297.
0/ the 289, 305, 3-58. Lydgate, John, 303, 342.
Italian Tales, 284, 342, 363, 367, Lytton's Zanoni, 332.
452,457.
J1;[abinog'ion, 278.
J acob's staff, 376. =:.vlackay, the IIighland ,vizftl'd, 296.
Index to MT'. PalJcTs on the C Tale.' 475
Mc'trlanalalntC/;1'6dankadai, 352-see Paris, Palllin, 3R.!, 409.
also Drravidian N'ights. Partenopex de Blois, 295.
Maghrabi country, 289. Parvati, 439.
J\Iagic Birds, 290, 430, 440; Car- Pauli's SCh1>rnpf Erl18t, 367.
pets, 294; Chair, 418; Chariots, Pausanins, 309.
291-293; Chest, 421, 426, 467; Pegasus, 285.
1-101'se8, 271, 272, 280-291, 387, Peregrine and tercelet, 273; Indian
406,409,412,414,416,447,463; analogue, 462.
lVlirrors and lInages, 271, 299- Perkins, H,ev. W., on witchcraft,
BB3; Rings and Gerns, 271,334- 331.
347,464; 296 Persian Tales, 291, 294, 297, 338,
-298, 378; Svvords and Spears, 344,
271, 372-381. Petis de la Croix, 421.
Magyar Tales, 287, 311, 355, 367, Pickering, J., 458.
378. Piers Plowlnan, 309.
Maluibluiratct, 292. Pilpay's Fables, 427.
Marco Polo, 270, 410, 411. Pitre's Sicilian Tales, 367.
]![JhtS1:ne, 463, 465; (journal), 365. Polish Tales, 294, 377, 378.
IV[erchant, Bull, and Ass, 365. Prince and his feathored friend8,
l\1erlin's rnagic Inirror, 300, 3Jl; 356.
prophecy of London, 305. Prior's Danish Ballads, 378.
1Vleternpsychosis, 35l.
lYIevY', 274. Radlui, 431.
l\Iiklosich's Gipsy Tales, 294, 377, Rahu, 434.
445. Rakshasas, 436.
]\'1irror, a favourite title of books, 309. Rati, 428.
l\1.irrors, magic, 271, 299-302, 306 Ravens' dispute, 358.
-333; feats vvith, Reynard the Fux, 306, 344, 408.
lVlitford's Tales of Old Japan, 344. R'ichard sans }>eHr, 294.
NIoorish Tales, 289, 305, 356. Hieu's Catal. of Persian MSS., 42G.
]\1oses' Ring of Oblivion, 340; his Rings and Gerns, nlagic, 271, 334-
Rod, 376. 34:7,464.
lVIiiller, Friedrich, 465. ROlnan I(night as Anubis, 450.
Hussian rrales, 287, 858, 368, 4..15.
N akhshabf, 291, 431. Rutter, the English 281.
Name, the Ineffable, 335, 338.
Nan1yana, 432, 437. Sadducisrn.us 'l'1"htrnphatus, 315.
N ash, Dr., on rnagic mirrors, 311. St. George and the Drag'on, 288.
Nash, Tonl, 310. Salcuntala, 292, 341, 431.
N estor's cup, 307.. Sastri, Pandit N atesa, 3-1:7, p52, 450.
Ni7;alni's Silcanclar NaJna., 306, 307, Schimpf und Ernst, 367.
413. Scot's of TVt"tchC1Ytjt, 346,
Norse Tales, 279, 349, 350, 372, 375, 373.
376, 378, 380. Scott, Jonathan, 418.
N{l Ruz (Persian Nevv Year), 413. Seott, Sir vValter, 316, 373.
Scratching and biting, in love, 432.
Obli vion, Moses' Ring of, 340. Serpents and bird-language, 349,
Oil of ThJlercy, 345. 368
Orphic Hynlns, 292. Seven TVise llfasters, 300, 301, 302,
Ovid's 292. 358, 360, 471.
Ovvls, the Two, 370, 466. Shakspeare's ref. to lnagic glass,
309.
Pancltatantra, 427, 428. Shepherd ,vho knevv the langnnge
Paradise, the hurls of, 423. of anitnals, 368.
476 Inclex to JJ/r. Gl01tston's PalJers on the, 'Squ/ire's Tal e.'
Ships, self-n1oving, 295, 296. Thon1son's C'astle of Indolence, 309.
Shoes of swiftness, 279. :Phornton R01nances, 277.
Sialnese Tales, 464. Thorpe's Northern, llfythology, 381 ;
Sicilian 1\lles, 284, 367. Stor1:es, 053,
S{ddll.l [(zt1", 290, 347, B7R. ThrGe Anin1allanguages, 363.
Signet-ring on tllUlllb, 270. 'rh rones, 294, 295.
S1?l:-anda1' N 306, 307, 413. Toledo, Inagic to,ver of, 306.
Simurgh, 466. 'rorralava, the Spanish ,vizard, 297.
Sindibao, Book of, 360. Towardowsld, the Polish ,vi7;ard,
Sillhad vipa, 4;)6. 281.
Sin7ujsan(]; Dwatrinsati, 283, 293, Tressan, Oonnt, 382,385,464.
296, 343, 462. 'rurldsh Tales, 330, 36:2, 370, 416,
Sir Degrtvant, 277. 426,463.
8£1" Gruelan. 463. Tuti N/i/ma, 291.
Sir LaTl'val, 463. 1'yrfing, the sword, 377.
Sir Perceval of Galles, 277.
Si va, 438, 439. , Valentine and Orson, 405.
Skeat, vValter W., 451. Van Hasselt, A., 383.
Snake-stones, 343, 344, 347. Vasudeva, 430.
8010n10n's flying carpet, 294; signet- V<1-sudsha-tree, 430.
ring, 334-340 ; languageofbirds, Vatsyayana, 431.
349,466. Vel ent's svvord Balmnng, 380.
Svuthey's !(eharna, 292, 329; Tha- Vernal festival in India, 413.
laba, 346. Vetdlapanchavinsa i'i, 290, 430, 450,
Spanish legends, 306, 4G3. 462.
Spears, rnagic, 379, 380. Vikninladitya; 283, 293, 343.
Spenser's .Faerie Qneene, 295, 308, Virgil's nlagic iIl1nges, &c., 301-
379,380. 304.
Spitta Bey's Arabian 'l\tles, 378. V,>rg1:UttS, Ltife oJ, 302.
Sprat, Dr., on lnagic rnirrors, 309. Vishnu, 430.
Square, rnagic, 321. Volsung saga, 375.
Squire's Tale: outline, 270; ana-
logues, 382-457; cornparative Warton's Elist. of Eng. Poellj'y, 275,
nllalysis of analogues, 411, 458, 310, 460, 462.
467, 468; Brandl's key, 460. vVealth, advantages of, 343.
Staff, or stick, lnngic, 297, 378.
Stone, W. G., 275.
'Veavel' as the angel Gabriel, 426 ;
as the deity Visl1nu, 428.
Stow's Stt1"vey of London, 278. vVeil's Bible, K01'an, and 'JTabnud,
Straparola's Pleasant N£ghts, 367 294.
Surrey and Cornelius Agrippa, 310. Weir, Major, the Scotch ·wizard, 297.
811varnad vipa, 436. vVilliams, Sir Moniel', 293) 342, 431.
S"vords and spears, Inagic, 271, 372 Wilson's Hindrtt 'l'heatre, 429.
-381. Witch's broolnstick, 296.
vVitchcraft, hnvs against, 331.
Tarlton's Netves out of vVizards, noted, 28 I, 296: 297.
454. \Vlislocki's Gipsy rrales, 441, 468.
Tartar Tales, 290, 347, 378. W oodell Bird, story of the, 440,
Tawney, C. H., 284-see also Katlux 468.
Sa1"£t Sagara. Woul\ds healed by sympathy, 373.
T<·rnple, Capt. R. 0., 282, 283. V\Tright, Thomas, 297, 301, 382.
Tercelet and peregrine, 273; Indian
analogue, 462. Yamn, 432.
Thorns' Early Eng. P1'ose R01nances, Yule, CoL Henry, 270, 411.
302.

You might also like