The Hero of Esthonia and Other Studies in the Romantic Literature of That Country Part 42

The plague continued to rage in Eastern Europe long after it had disappeared from the West, and down to a very recent period.

Consequently we find plague-legends, which have almost died out in the British Islands, except in Scotland, rife among all the Eastern nations.

The Plague-demon is usually represented as female, but in the Esthonian legends it is masculine.

The Plague once seated himself in a boat which was returning to the Island of Rogo,[75] which had hitherto escaped his ravages, in the shape of a tall black man with a great scythe in his hand. He arrived among the dead crew, and at once sprang on sh.o.r.e and began to destroy the inhabitants. Some saw the Plague himself, and others not. If any one saw him, his heart froze with terror before he could speak a word.[76] One night during a violent storm, an old woman saw him enter her cottage as she was sitting alone spinning; but she gathered courage to cry out, "Welcome, in G.o.d's name." He stopped short, muttering, "That's enough,"

returned to the boat in which he had come, and went out to sea. The storm ceased as he departed, and since then he has never reappeared.

In the Island of Nucko he appeared as an old grey man, with a taper in one hand and a staff in the other, a book under his arm, and a three-cornered hat on his head. As he went from house to house, he looked up the names of his victims in his book, let his taper s.h.i.+ne on their faces to make sure that he had made no mistake, and touched the doomed with his staff. A peasant once saw him enter his cottage, and touch all with his staff, except himself and the infant in the cradle.

All the others died before c.o.c.kcrow.[77]

Another time the Plague was driving down a steep path which led to a village, when he upset his vehicle and broke the axle. A pa.s.sing peasant helped him to bind it up, and directed him to the smithy; but he declared that he was the Plague, and for the good deed that had been done him all the village should be spared. So he turned his horse, drove back up the hill, and vanished like a cloud. When the news was brought to the village, bonfires of rejoicing were lighted, and kept up for many days.

[Footnote 75: There is a similar tale told of the arrival of the Cholera in one of the Greek islands.]

[Footnote 76: Speaking of the Vad Velen, the Yellow Plague, in Britain, we are told in the _Mabinogion_ that all who saw him were doomed to die.]

[Footnote 77: This story somewhat resembles that of the old hag seen by Lord Seaforth when lying ill of scarlet fever with several of his schoolfellows. The narrative has been reprinted several times, and is included in Stead's _More Ghost Stories_, p. 37.]

SECTION XIV

_BEAST-STORIES_

I commence with wolf-stories, which are rather numerous in Esthonia. One of them relates the creation of the wolf. When G.o.d had created the world, he asked the Devil what he thought of his work; and the Devil objected that there was no animal to scare away mischievous boys from the woods when the bear and the snake were sunk in their winter sleep.

Thereupon G.o.d gave leave to the Devil to make such an animal as he wished, and to give it life by the formula, "Stand up and devour the Devil." Then the Devil made the wolf's back of a strong hedge-pole, the head of a tree-stump, the breast of twigs and leather, and the loins of bricks.[78] He made the tail of a fern-frond, and the feet of alder-stumps, but he put a stone into its breast for the heart. He clothed the body with moss, burning coals formed the eyes, and iron nails were used for the teeth and claws. He then named the creature Wolf, and p.r.o.nounced the spell as far as "devour," when the creature raised his head and snorted. The Devil was too much frightened to finish, but afterwards plucked up courage, and repeated the spell, subst.i.tuting G.o.d's name for his own. But the wolf took no notice, and when the Devil appealed to G.o.d, he was only told to use the same spell; so he stood a long way off and p.r.o.nounced it. Then the wolf rushed at the Devil, who was forced to hide under a stone to save himself. Since then the wolf has been the Devil's worst enemy, and pursues him everywhere.

Another story relates how G.o.d forbade the wolf to eat the flocks and the dogs, but to receive his share when the farmers baked. But one day a farmer's wife threw the wolf a red-hot stone instead of bread, and he burnt his muzzle, which has been black ever since. Since then he devours whatever falls in his way.

A farmer, hemmed in by a herd of wolves, succeeded in driving them away, but was followed home by one of them. When he took his provisions out of the sledge, he laid his hand on a square object like a whetstone. He then remembered hearing that the wolves sometimes receive food from heaven, and thought this might be their portion. So he flung it to the wolf, saying, "Take it if it's yours;" and the wolf seized it and disappeared.

There is an odd story of a young woman who was carrying an ap.r.o.n full of eggs to her mother. She was overtaken by a violent thunderstorm, and sheltered under a fir-tree. She felt something moving among the eggs, and was frightened; but presently she was still more terrified when she found a great wolf tugging at her ap.r.o.n. She dropped it in her fright, and a black cat jumped out and darted away, pursued by the wolf. When she reached the village, her mother told her that the black cat was the Devil, who had taken that form in order to play her a trick or do her some injury, but had been scared away by the wolf.

Have we here an inverted and distorted echo of "Little Red Riding Hood?"

A peasant who was broiling fish in the forest at nightfall met with a still more alarming adventure. A black man appeared to him, and commanded him to fetch him a spit, for he wanted to broil fish too. But the spit which he wanted was a long sharp stake, and the peasant himself was to be the fish. In his terror the peasant called "St.

George's Dogs" to his aid, and a pack of wolves rushed out, and chased the Devil away, while the peasant drew out the axle from his cart-wheel, and supplied its place with a pole of rowan-wood.

Another story relates how an unfortunate wolf missed getting his usual rations from G.o.d, and set out to forage for himself. After sparing some whom he met, and allowing others to escape, he fell into the hands of a young peasant, who gave him a sound beating and then took refuge in a tree. The wolf's relatives, seeking revenge, climbed on each other's back till they nearly reached the peasant, who upset them by a stratagem, and they fell, many breaking their limbs. Since then a wolf always runs away when he sees a man.

Were-wolves are sometimes alluded to in Esthonian tales.

The following stories are of a more miscellaneous character, and some of them are sufficiently interesting to be given with little or no abridgment.

[Footnote 78: Such origins are common in Esthonian and Finnish folk-literature, and I regard them as relics of fetis.h.i.+sm.]

THE MAN WITH THE BAST SHOES.

Once upon a time a traveller came to a village and asked for a night's lodging. He was handsomely dressed, but he had coa.r.s.e bast shoes on his feet. A friendly farmer received the stranger hospitably, and offered him accommodation. At night the man asked his host, "Farmer, where shall I put my bast shoes?" The farmer showed him the place, but he added, "No, my shoes must spend the night among the feathered people, for that is what they are used to. So I would rather hang them on the perch in the hen-house." The farmer laughed at the joke, and permitted him to do so.

As soon as all were in their first sleep, the owner of the bast shoes rose from his bed, slipped into the hen-house, tore the shoes to pieces, and scattered the coa.r.s.e plaits among the fowls. Next morning he went to the master of the house and complained, "Farmer, my property was badly damaged last night." Said the farmer, "Well, let whoever has done the mischief make it good." This was just what the stranger wanted, and he immediately caught the dappled c.o.c.k, and put him into his knapsack, "for," said he, "he's the culprit; last night he pecked at my shoes till he spoiled them." Then he proceeded on his journey with the c.o.c.k.

On the evening of the same day he arrived at a neighbouring village, and asked again for accommodation. At night he put the c.o.c.k in the farmer's sheep-pen, and excused himself by saying, "My c.o.c.k has not been used to anything else since he was a chicken." But at night he strangled the bird, and then complained, "The sheep have killed my c.o.c.k." He indemnified himself by taking a fat ram from the flock, for he held by the farmer's adage, "He who has done the mischief must pay for it."

By a similar stratagem he exchanged the ram at the third village for an ox, and at last the ox for a horse. He soon contrived to get a sledge too, and drove merrily over hill and dale, till the stones flew behind him, while he contrived new schemes and stratagems. On the way, he encountered Master Reynard, who persuaded him by entreaties and cajoleries to take him into his sledge. After a while, the wolf and bear joined them, and likewise found a place in the sledge; but this made the load too heavy, and when they came to a curve in the road, the side-poles of the sledge gave way. Then the man sent his companions to fetch wood to make a new pole. But none of the three brought a proper one back. The fox and wolf brought thin sticks in their mouths, and the bear brought a whole pine-tree, roots and all. Then the man went himself, and soon found the wood which he wanted. Meantime, the wild beasts availed themselves of the opportunity, and sprang upon the horse and devoured it. But they stuffed the skin nicely with straw, and set it carefully up, so that it stood again on its four legs as if it was alive.

When the man came back with the pole, he mended the sledge and harnessed the horse again. "Oho! now we'll drive on." But alas! the horse would not move. Then the man looked at the red scamp, the grey rascal, and the brown villain, and said angrily, "Give me my horse back." But the wild beasts answered, "You killed it yourself, while we were running about looking for wood by your orders."

Thus they stood quarrelling and disputing, till Reynard considered how he could best put an end to the dispute and save his own skin. He knew of a pit in the neighbourhood which the hunter had dug for a wolf-trap, and covered loosely with thin twigs. "The matter won't be settled by quarrelsome and angry words," cried he; "but come, let the four of us go to the wolf-pit; we will all tread on it at once, and whoever falls in shall be adjudged guilty." The rest agreed, and when they stood on the twigs, they broke under their weight, and precipitated them into the pit, and even Reynard was unable to escape. He had trusted too much to the lightness of his tread, and had trodden on the twigs without consideration. Now they were all in the trap together, and none of them could hope to escape. The time seemed long to them, and their hunger soon became too great to bear.

First of all, the wild beasts attacked the man of the bast shoes and devoured him, and then Reynard had to resign his life. Last of all the bear throttled the wolf. Then came the hunter and gave the bear his quietus. Thus all the four rascals experienced the truth of the proverb, "As the deed, so the reward."

WHY THE DOG AND CAT AND THE CAT AND MOUSE ARE ENEMIES.

In former days all animals dwelt together in peace; but then it befell that the dogs killed and devoured hares and other game in the open fields. The other animals complained, and when G.o.d called the dogs to account, they objected that they had nothing to eat. Their plea was admitted, and leave was granted them to eat fallen animals. The dogs requested and received a written license to that effect, which was intrusted to the sheep-dog, as the largest and most reliable among them.

But in autumn the sheep-dog was very busy, and could neither carry it about with him nor find a dry place for it, so he intrusted it to the care of his friend the tom-cat, who had always a safe room, or sat on the stove. The cat arched his back, and rubbed it against his friend's foot, as a promise of fidelity, and the doc.u.ment was laid on the stove, where it was supposed to be safe.

One day the dogs found a pony in the wood which had fallen, so they fell upon it, and killed and devoured it. The animals complained again, and the dogs were p.r.o.nounced guilty; but they appealed to the license, in which it was not stated whether the fallen animals should be dead or alive. When the sheep-dog and the cat sought for the doc.u.ment, they could not find it, for the mice had nibbled it away.

The cats were so angry with the mice that they began to kill and eat them, and have done so ever since; but the dogs likewise became enemies of the cats, as they are at present.

The sheep-dog did not venture to return to his fellows without the license. They waited for him in vain, and at last followed him, and sought for him everywhere, but could not find him. So whenever a dog sees another he runs to ask him whether he has not got the missing doc.u.ment with him.

THE ORIGIN OF THE SWALLOW.

The wife of a drunkard was sitting weaving with her child on her lap.

She wore a black cloth on her head, a red neckerchief, a white s.h.i.+ft, and a coal-black petticoat. When her husband came home, he pushed his wife away, and destroyed the loom with an axe. Then he killed the child with a blow of his fist, and beat his wife till she fell senseless. But Ukko took pity on her, and changed her into a swallow. As she was trying to escape, the man struck at her with a knife, but only cleft her tail.

Since that time she flies about twittering her misfortunes, and does not shun men like other birds, but builds her nest against their houses.