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--------------------------- 1 This simple tale seldom fails to rivet the attention of children, especially if well told. The last two words should be said loudly with a start. It was obtained from oral tradition, and has not, I believe, been printed. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * This story was obtained from oral tradition in the West of England. It is undoubtedly a variation of the "Hans im Glück" of Grimm, which is current in Germany. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * A shorter and very different version of this is given by Mr. Chambers, p.211 ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * "Let us cast away nothing," says Mr. Gifford, "for we know not what use we may have for it." So will every one admit whose reading has been sufficiently extensive to enable him to judge of the value of the simplest traditional tales. The present illustrates a passage in Ben Jonson in a very remarkable manner,—
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--------------------------- * This tale has been traced back fifty years, but it is probably considerably older. --------------------------- |
The cat and the mouse Play'd in the malt-house: |
First she leapt, and then she ran, Till she came to the cow, and thus began,— |
Pray, Cow, give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again. No, said the cow, I will give you no milk, till you go to the farmer and get me some hay.
First she leapt, and then she ran, Till she came to the farmer, and thus began,— |
First she leapt, and then she ran, Till she came to the butcher, and thus began,— |
First she leapt, and then she ran, Till she came to the baker, and thus began,— |
Yes, says the baker, I'll give you some bread, But if you eat my meal, I'll cut off your head. |
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--------------------------- * The present Kentish dialect does not adopt this form, but anciently some of the peculiarities of what is now the western dialect of England extended all over the southern counties. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * From oral tradition in Yorkshire. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * An incident analogous to this occurs in Grimm, Die Goldene Gans. See Edgar Taylor's Gammer Grethel, 1839, p. 5. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * This story is abridged from the old chap-book of the Three Kings of Colchester. The incident of the heads rising out of the well is very similar to one introduced in Peele's Old Wives Tale, 1595, and the verse is also of a similar character. ---------------------------
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Wash me, and comb me, And lay me down softly, And lay me on a bank to dry, That I may look pretty, When somebody comes by. |
"Yes," said she, and putting forth her hand, with a silver comb performed the office, placing it upon a primrose bank. Then came up a second and a third head, making the same request, which she complied with. She then pulled out her provisions and ate her dinner. Then said the heads one to another, "What shall we do for this lady who hath used us so kindly?" The first said, "I will cause such addition to her beauty as shall charm the most powerful prince in the world." The second said, "I will endow her with such perfume, both in body and breath, as shall far exceed the sweetest flowers." The third said, "My gift shall be none of the least, for, as she is a king's daughter, I'll make her so fortunate that she shall become queen to the greatest prince that reigns." This done, at their request she let them down into the well again, and so proceeded on her journey. She had not travelled long before she saw a king hunting in the park with his nobles; she would have avoided him, but the king having caught a sight of her, approached, and what with her beauty and perfumed breath, was so powerfully smitten, that he was not able to subdue his passion, but commenced his courtship immediately, and was so successful that he gained her love, and, conducting her to his palace, he caused her to be clothed in the most magnificent manner.
This being ended, and the king finding that she was the king of Colchester's daughter, ordered some chariots to be got ready, that he might pay the king a visit. The chariot in which the king and queen rode was adorned with rich ornamental gems of gold. The king, her father, was at first astonished that his daughter had been so fortunate as she was, till the young king made him sensible of all that happened. Great was the joy at court amongst all, with the exception of the queen and her club-footed daughter, who were ready to burst with malice, and envied her happiness; and the greater / p.42 / was their madness because she was now above them all. Great rejoicings, with feasting and dancing, continued many days. Then at length, with the dowry her father gave her they returned home.
The deformed daughter perceiving that her sister had been so happy in seeking her fortune, would needs do the same; so disclosing her mind to her mother, all preparations were made, and she was furnished not only with rich apparel, but sweetmeats, sugar, almonds, &c., in great quantities, and a large bottle of Malaga sack. Thus provided, she went the same road as her sister, and coming near the cave, the old man said, "Young woman, whither so fast?" "What is that to you," said she. "Then," said he, "what have you in your bag and bottle?" She answered, "Good things, which you shall not be troubled with." "Won't you give me some?" said he. "No, not a bit, nor a drop, unless it would choke you." The old man frowned, saying, "Evil fortune attend thee." Going on, she came to the hedge, through which she espied a gap, and thought to pass through it, but, going in, the hedge closed, and the thorns run into her flesh, so that it was with great difficulty that she got out. Being now in a painful condition, she searched for water to wash herself, and, looking round, she saw the well; she sat down on the brink of it, and one of the heads came up, saying "Wash me, comb me, and lay me down softly, &c." but she banged it with her bottle, saying, "Take this for your washing." So the second and third heads came up, and met with no better treatment than the first; whereupon the heads consulted among themselves what evils to plague her with for such usage. The first said, "Let her be struck with leprosy in her face." The second, "Let an additional smell be added to her breath." The third bestowed on her a husband, though but a poor country cobler. This done, she goes on till she came to a town, and it being market day, the people / p.43 / looked at her, and seeing such an evil face fled out of her sight, all but a poor cobler (who not long before had mended the shoes of an old hermit, who having no money, gave him a box of ointment for the cure of the leprosy, and a bottle of spirits for a stinking breath.) Now the cobler having a mind to do an act of charity, was induced to go up to her and ask her who she was. "I am," said she, "the king of Colchester's daughter-in-law." "Well," said the cobler, "if I restore you to your natural complexion, and make a sound cure both in face and breath, will you in reward take me for a husband?" "Yes, friend," replied she, "with all my heart." With this the cobler applied the remedies, and they worked the effect in a few weeks, and then they were married, and after a few days they set forward for the court at Colchester. When the queen understood she had married a poor cobler, she fell into distraction, and hanged herself for vexation. The death of the queen was not a source of sorrow to the king, who had only married her for her fortune, and bore her no affection; and shortly afterwards he gave the cobler a hundred pounds to take the daughter to a remote part of the kingdom, where he lived many years mending shoes, while his wife assisted the housekeeping by spinning, and selling the results of her labours at the country market.
--------------------------- * This tale of the frog-lover is known in every part of Germany, and is alluded to by several old writers of that country. It is the tale "Der Froschkönig, oder der Eiserne Heinrich," in Grimm. "These enchanted frogs," says Sir W. Scott, "have migrated from afar, and we suspect that they were originally crocodiles; we trace them in a tale forming part of a series of stories entitled the Relations of Ssidi Kur, extant amongst the Calmuck Tartars." Mr. Chambers has given a Scotch version of the tale, under the title of "The well o' the warld's end," in his Popular Rhymes, / p.44 / p.236. The rhymes in the copy given above were obtained from the North of England, without, however, any reference to the story to which they evidently belong. The application, however, is so obvious to any one acquainted with the German and Scotch tale, that the framework I have ventured to give them cannot be considered incongruous; although I need not add how very desirable it would be to procure the traditional tale as related by the English peasantry. Perhaps some of our readers may be enabled to supply it. ---------------------------
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Many years ago there lived on the brow of a mountain, in the North of England, an old woman and her / p.44 / daughter. They were very poor, and obliged to work very hard for their living, and the old woman's temper was not very good, so that the maiden, who was very beautiful, led but an ill life with her. The girl, indeed, was compelled to do the hardest work, for her mother got their principal means of subsistence by travelling to places in the neighbourhood with small articles for sale, and when she came home in the afternoon she was not able to do much more work. Nearly the whole domestic labour of the cottage devolved therefore on the daughter, the most wearisome part of which consisted in the necessity of fetching all the water they required from a well on the other side of the hill, there being no river or spring near their own cottage.
It happened one morning that the daughter had the misfortune, in going to the well, to break the only pitcher they possessed, and having no other utensil she could use for the purpose, she was obliged to go home without bringing any water. When her mother returned she was unfortunately troubled with excessive thirst, and the girl, though trembling for the consequences of her misfortune, told her exactly the circumstance that had occurred. The old woman was furiously angry, and so far from making any allowances for her daughter, pointed to a sieve which happened to be on the table, and told her to go at once to the well and bring her some water in that, or never venture to appear again in her sight.
The young maiden, frightened almost out of her wits by her mother's fury, speedily took the sieve, and though / p.45 / she considered the task a hopeless one to accomplish, almost unconsciously hastened to the well. When she arrived there, beginning to reflect on the painful situation in which she was placed, and the utter impossibility of her obtaining a living by herself, she threw herself down on the brink of the well in an agony of despair. Whilst she was in this condition, a large frog came up to the top of the water, and asked her for what she was crying so bitterly. She was somewhat surprised at this, but not being the least frightened, told him the whole story, and that she was crying because she could not carry away water in the sieve. "Is that all?" said the frog; "cheer up, my hinny! for if you will only let me sleep with you for two nights, and then chop off my head, I will tell you how to do it." The maiden thought the frog could not be in earnest, but she was too impatient to consider much about it, and at once made the required promise. The frog then instructed her in the following words,—
Stop with fog (moss), And daub with clay; And that will carry The water away. |
Open the door, my hinny, my heart, Open the door, my own darling; Remember the words you spoke to me In the meadow by the well-spring. |
She was now dreadfully frightened, and hurriedly explained the matter to her mother, who was also so much alarmed at the circumstance, that she dared not refuse admittance to the frog, who, when the door was opened, leapt into the room, exclaiming:
Go wi' me to bed, my hinny, my heart, Go wi' me to bed, my own darling; Remember the words you spoke to me, In the meadow by the well-spring. |
Go wi' me to bed, my hinny, my heart, Go wi' me to bed, my own darling; Remember the words you spoke to me, In the meadow by the well-spring. |
Chop off my head, my hinny, my heart, Chop off my head, my own darling; Remember the words you spoke to me, In the meadow by the well-spring. |
--------------------------- * A simple, but very curious tale, of considerable antiquity. It is alluded to by Shakespeare, and was contributed to the variorum edition by Blakeway. Part of this story will recall to the reader's memory the enchanted chamber of Britomart. ---------------------------
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Be bold, be bold, but not too bold. |
Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, Lest that your heart's blood should run cold! |
It is not so, nor it was not so, And God forbid it should be so! |
It is not so, nor it was not so, And God forbid it should be so! |
But it is so, and it was so, And here the hand I have to show! |
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--------------------------- * Obtained in Oxfordshire from tradition. ---------------------------
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One moonshiny night, as I sat high, Waiting for one to come by, The boughs did bend; my heart did ache To see what hole the fox did make. |
As I went out in a moonlight night, I set my back against the moon, I looked for one, and saw two come: The boughs did bend, the leaves did shake, I saw the hole the Fox did make. |
--------------------------- * This little tale was most likely copied from the commencement of the original edition of Jack the Giant-killer, where similar incidents are related of that renowned hero. ---------------------------
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Johnny Reed! Johnny Reed! Tell Madam Momfort That Mally Dixon's dead. |
Hör du Plat, Süg til din cat At Knurre-Murre er död.
Hear thou, Platt, |
--------------------------- * This analysis of the Danish tale is taken from an article in the Quarterly Review, xxi. 98. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- † This is a modern version, taken down from recitation, of the very old tale of the Black Bull of Norroway, mentioned in the Complaynt of Scotland, 1548. It is here taken, by the author's kind permission, from the Popular Rhymes of Scotland, by Mr. Robert Chambers, the most delightful book of the kind ever published. ---------------------------
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To wilder measures next they turn: The black black bull of Norroway! Sudden the tapers cease to burn, The minstrels cease to play! |
Far hae I sought ye, near am I brought to ye; Dear Duke o' Norroway, will ye no turn and speak to me? |
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--------------------------- * One of the tales of Perrault, 1697. The plot was taken from the first novel of the eleventh night of Straparola. Its moral is that talents are equivalent to fortune. We have inserted this in our collection, although generally remembered, as a specimen of the simple tales founded by Perrault on older stories, and which soon became popular in this country. The others, as Blue Beard, and Little Riding Hood, are vanishing from the nursery, but are so universally known that reprints of them would be superfluous. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * The last is also found in the second relation of Ssidi Kur, a Calmuck romance. ---------------------------
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Snouk but, snouk ben, I find the smell of earthly men; |
--------------------------- * Bandoleers were little wooden cases covered with leather, each of them containing the charge of powder for a musket, and fastened to a broad band of leather, which the person who was to use them put round his neck. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * An old jocular term for a prison, or any place of confinement. ---------------------------
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Here's the right valiant Cornish man, Who slew the giant Cormelian. [in pen: Cormoran] |
Do what you can to get away, Or you'll become the giant's prey; He's gone to fetch his brother, who Will kill, and likewise torture you. |
[This is corrected in ink to the following:] Haste valiant stranger, haste away, Or you'll become the giant's prey; On his return, he'll bring another Still more savage than his brother. A horrid, cruel, monster, who Before he kills, will torture you. |
Though here you lodge with me this night, You shall not see the morning light: My club shall dash your brains out quite! |
--------------------------- * The foregoing portion of this wonderful history is that most generally known; but the incidents now become more complicated, and after the introduction of Arthur's son upon the scene, we arrive at particulars which have long been banished from the nursery library ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * An attendant spirit. ---------------------------
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We were in sad distress you see, Under the giant's fierce command, But gain'd our lives and liberty By valiant Jack's victorious hand. |
Fi, fee, fo, fum!* I smell the blood of an English man! Be he alive or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make me bread! |
--------------------------- * These lines are quoted by Edgar in the tragedy of King Lear. ---------------------------
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"Say you so," said Jack; "then you are a monstrous miller indeed." The giant, deeply incensed, replied, "Art thou that villain who killed my kinsman? then I will tear thee with my teeth, and grind thy bones to powder." "But," says Jack, still provoking him, "you must catch me first, if you please:" so putting aside his invisible coat, so that the giant might see him, and putting on his wonderful shoes, he enticed him into a chase by just approaching near enough to give him an apparent chance of capture. The giant, we are told, "followed like a walking castle, so that the very foundations of the earth seemed to shake at every step." Jack led him a good distance, in order that the wondering guests at the castle might see him to advantage, but at last, to end the matter, he ran over the drawbridge, the giant pursuing him with his club; but coming to the place where the bridge was cut, the giant's great weight burst it asunder, and he was precipitated into the moat, where he rolled about, says the author, "like a vast whale." While the monster was in this condition, Jack sadly bantered him about the boast he had made of grinding his bones to powder, but at length, having teased him sufficiently, a cart-rope was cast over the two heads of the giant, and he was drawn ashore by a team of horses, where Jack served him as he had done his relatives, cut off his heads, and sent them to King Arthur.
It would seem that the giant-killer rested a short time after this adventure, but he was soon tired of inactivity, and again went in search of another giant, the last whose head he was destined to chop off. After passing a long distance, he came at length to a large mountain, at the foot of which was a very lonely house. Knocking at the door, it was opened by "an ancient* man, with a head as white as snow,"
--------------------------- * An old man. ---------------------------
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Whoever doth this trumpet blow,* Shall soon the giant overthrow, And break the black enchantment straight, So all shall be in happy state. |
--------------------------- * Variations of this incident are found in romances of all nations. ---------------------------
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Jack at once accepted the challenge, and putting the trumpet to his mouth, gave a blast that made the hills re-echo. The castle trembled to its foundations, and the giant and conjuror were overstricken with fear, knowing that the reign of their enchantments was at an end. The former was speedily slain by Jack, but the conjuror, mounting up into the air, was carried away in a whirlwind, and never heard of more. The enchantments were immediately broken, and all the lords and ladies, who had so long been cruelly transformed, were standing on the native earth in their natural shapes, the castle having vanished with the conjuror.
The only relic of the giant which was left was the head, which Jack cut off in the first instance, and which we must suppose rolled away from the influence of the enchanted castle, or it would have "vanished into thin air" with the body. It was fortunate that it did so, for it proved an inestimable trophy at the court of King Arthur, where Jack the Giant-killer was shortly afterwards united to the duke's daughter whom he had freed from enchantment, "not only to the joy of the court, but of all the kingdom." To complete his happiness, he was endowed with a noble house and estates, and his penchant for giant-killing having subsided, or, what is more probable, no more monsters appearing to interrupt his tranquillity, he accomplished the usual conclusion to these romantic narratives, by passing the remainder of his life in the enjoyment of every domestic felicity.
[I have alluded to the quotation from this primitive romance made by Shakespeare in King Lear, but if the story of Rowland, published by Mr. Jamieson, is to be trusted, it would seem that the great dramatist was indebted to a ballad of the time. This position would, however, compel us to adopt the belief that the words of the giant are also taken from the ballad; a supposition to which I am most unwilling to assent. In fact, I / p.78 / believe that Edgar quotes from two different compositions, the first line from a ballad on Rowland, the second from Jack and the Giants. "And Rowland into the castle came" is a line in the second ballad of Rosmer Hafmand, or the Merman Rosmer, in the Danish Kœmpe Viser, p. 165. The story alluded to above may be briefly given as follows.
The sons of King Arthur were playing at ball in the merry town of Carlisle, and their sister, "Burd* Ellen" was in the midst of them.
--------------------------- * It is almost unnecessary to observe that burd was an ancient term for lady. ---------------------------
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They sought her east, they sought her west, They sought her up and down; And wae were the hearts in merry Carlisle, For she was nae gait found. |
--------------------------- * The contrary way to the course of the sun. ---------------------------
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And hear ye this, my youngest brither, Why badena ye not at hame? Had ye a hunder and thousand lives, Ye canna brook ane o' them. |
With, Fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of a Christian man! Be he dead, be he living, wi' my brand I'll clash his harns frae his harn-pan!* |
--------------------------- * Literally, "I will dash his brains from his skull with my sword." ---------------------------
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The author of the renowned History of Tom Hickathrift prefaces his narrative with the following consolatory exordium:—
And if thou dost buy this book, Be sure that you do on it look, And read it o'er, then thou wilt say Thy money is not thrown away. |
--------------------------- * In the original it is lent the giant, the term lent being old English or Saxon for gave. The expression sufficiently proves the antiquity of the version. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * The author is not very particular in his similes, but this appears to be quite peculiar to this history. ---------------------------
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--------------------------- * This incident has been slightly altered, the original narrative being of a nature that will not bear an exact transcription. ---------------------------
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I am the naughty Stumbelup, Who tried to steal the silver cup. |
--------------------------- * In the heading of the chapter in the original it is East Angles, now called the Isle of Thanet, an error which favours the supposition of the story having been adapted from a much older original. ---------------------------
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My friends, while I have strength to stand, Most manfully I will pursue All dangers, till I clear this land Of lions, bears, and tigers, too.
This you'll find true, or I'm to blame, |
I had a little husband No bigger than my thumb: I put him in a pint-pot, And there I bid him drum. |
In the merry days of good King Arthur, there lived in one of the counties of England a ploughman and his wife. They were poor, but as the husband was a strong workman, and his partner an able assistant in all matters pertaining to the farmhouse, the dairy, and poultry, they managed to make a very good living, and would have been contented and happy, had Nature blessed them with any offspring. But although they had been married several years, no olive branch had yet appeared, and the worthy couple sadly lamented their hard lot.
There lived at this period, at the court of Arthur, a celebrated conjuror and magician, whose name was Merlin, the astonishment of the whole world, for he knew the past, present, and future, and nothing appeared impossible to him. Persons of all classes solicited his assistance and advice, and he was perfectly accessible to the humblest applicant. Aware of this, the ploughman, after a long consultation with his "better half," determined to consult him, and, for this purpose, travelled to the court, and, with tears in his eyes, beseeched Merlin that he might have a child, "even though it should be no bigger than his thumb."
Now Merlin had a strange knack of taking people exactly at their words, and without waiting for any more explicit declaration of the ploughman's wishes, at once / p.96 / granted his request. What was the poor countryman's astonishment to find, when he reached home, that his wife had given birth to a gentleman so diminutive, that it required a strong exercise of the vision to see him. His growth was equally wonderful, for—
In four minutes he grew so fast, That he became as tall As was the ploughman's thumb in length, And so she did him call. |
But, being missed, his mother went, Calling him everywhere: Where art thou, Tom? where art thou, Tom? Quoth he, Here, mother, here!
Within the red cow's stomach, here |
Long time he liv'd in jollity, Belov'd of the court, And none like Tom was so esteem'd Amongst the better sort. |
And so away goes lusty Tom With threepence at his back, A heavy burthen, which did make His very bones to crack. |
Thus he at tilt and tournament Was entertained so, That all the rest of Arthur's knights Did him much pleasure show.
And good Sir Launcelot du Lake, |
Amongst the rest the steward came, Who would the salmon buy, And other fish that he did name, But he would not comply.
The steward said, You are so stout,
At this they began to stare,
So the steward made no more ado, |