Favorite Folktales From Around the World

  That night Liu-lang, looking altogether different now that he was capped and garbed in finery, entered Hsü’s dreams. Expressing his appreciation, Liu-lang said, “For you to come so far to see me moves me to tears, but I am unable to meet you directly because I hold such a trivial position. It saddens me to be so near to the living and yet so far. The people here have some meager presents for you as a token of our past association. Whenever you are to return home, I shall see you off myself.

  Hsü remained in Wu township a few more days before preparing to leave. The people of Wu tried to keep him longer, making earnest appeals and inviting him to daylong feasts with different hosts. But Hsü was set on returning home. The people outdid themselves in generosity, and before the morning passed his bags were filled with gifts. The grey-haired and the young gathered to see him out of the village. And a whirlwind followed him some three or four miles farther. Hsü bowed again and again. “Take care of yourself, Liu-lang,” he said. “Don’t bother coming so far. With your humane and loving heart, you can surely bring good fortune to this township without advice from old friends.” The wind swirled around for a time and then was gone. The villagers, exclaiming in wonder at these events, also went to their homes.

  When Hsü arrived back in his own village, his family’s circumstances had improved so much that he did not return to fishing. Later he saw people from Chauyüan county who told him that the deity was working miracles and had become widely known.

  The Recorder of Things Strange says: To attain the heights of ambition without forgetting the friends one made when poor and lowly—that is what made Wang Liu-lang a god! Nowadays, when do the high and noble in their carriages recognize those still wearing a bamboo hat?

  THE OSTLER AND THE GRAVE ROBBERS

  Scotland

  One dark night, at a wayside inn, a pony and trap drove up, and stopped. There was two men and a woman. The woman was setting between the two men, with a hood on her head, and her face was covered with a veil.

  The men jumped out, and left the woman setting. They went into the pub for a drink.

  The ostlers was busy in the stable, and one looked out, and when he saw the woman setting by herself, he went up to the trap, and said to the woman, “It’s a cauld night the night!” But he got no answer. He spoke again, but still no answer. He had a close look at her, and he saw it was a corpse.

  He got up and got hold of her, and carried her into the stable, and took off her disguise, and put it on himself. Then he got into the trap in the woman’s place, and was setting bolt upright and just like the woman when the men came out, and jumped in, one at either side. They just thought it was the dead woman.

  After traveling some distance along the road, one of the men said to the other, “D’ye ken that body’s getting warm?”

  The other said, “I was just thinking the same.”

  Then the ostler spoke up and said, “If ye had been as lang in Hell as me, ye’d be warm too!”

  That was enough. The men jumped out and ran for their life. The ostler saw no more of them; he just turned the pony and trap, and took it back to the inn.

  It was now his property, as he knew they dare not come back to claim it.

  According to tradition, the Roman emperors rode in their chariots with a slave behind holding the laurel crown over the royal head and whispering, “Remember, thou art mortal” in the royal ear. Just so, these final stories are the folk way of whispering in our own ears about mortality.

  There are many explanations in folklore of how death came into the world in the first place. Often it is by mistake—the woman who “didn’t know anything yet, because she had been walking on earth for just a few hours” in the Blackfoot tale “Woman Chooses Death.” There are also many reminders of mortality and of why death is necessary: the Italian “Jump into My Sack” and its variant from Turkey, “Youth Without Age and Life Without Death,” are prime examples.

  Of course, the fact of death doesn’t stop people from wanting to cheat death, But no one does forever, as the boy finds out in “Godfather Death” and as the miser finds out in the Russian” Death of a Miser.”

  And after death, what then? There are so many different heavens—the Isles of the Blessed, Valhalla, Tir-Nan-Og—and varieties of hell that only a sampling can be given here.

  But this section ends—and the book ends—with a story about the end of the world and what keeps Armageddon at bay. It is, according to the White River Sioux, the task of an old, old lady, “so old that her face looks like a shriveled-up walnut.” And if she reminds us somewhat of the Greek Fates or of Penelope at her loom or the master weaver creating all the patterns of the world, that is how it should be. Stories lean on stories, and what the old woman is weaving, after all, is Story. It is the story of the world. And when that story is finally at an end, so too ends the world.

  THE DURATION OF LIFE

  Germany

  When God created the world and was about to fix the length of each creature’s life, the ass came and asked, “Lord, how long shall I live?”

  “Thirty years,” replied God. “Does that content you?”

  “Ah, Lord,” answered the ass, “that is a long time. Think of my painful existence! To carry heavy burdens from morning to night, to drag sacks of corn to the mill that others may eat bread, to be cheered and refreshed with nothing but blows and kicks. Relieve me of a portion of this long time.” Then God had pity on him and relieved him of eighteen years, and the ass went away comforted.

  Then the dog appeared. “How long would you like to live?” said God to him. “Thirty years are too many for the ass, but you will be satisfied with that.”

  “Lord,” answered the dog, “is that Thy will? Consider how I shall have to run, my feet will never hold out so long, and when I have once lost my voice for barking, and my teeth for biting, what will be left for me to do but run from one corner to another and growl?” God saw was that he was right, and released him from twelve years of life.

  Then came the monkey. “You will certainly live thirty years willingly?” said the Lord to him. “You have no need to work as the ass and the dog have to, and will always enjoy yourself.”

  “Ah, Lord,” he answered, “it may seem as if that were the case, but it is quite different. When it rains millet porridge I have no spoon. I am always to play merry pranks, and make faces which force people to laugh, and if they give me an apple, and I bite into it, why, it is sour! How often sadness hides itself behind mirth! I shall never be able to hold out for thirty years.” God was gracious and took off ten.

  At last man appeared, joyous, healthy and vigorous, and begged God to appoint his time for him.

  “Thirty years shall you live,” said the Lord. “Is that enough for you?”

  “What a short time,” cried man, “when I have built my house and my fire burns on my own hearth; when I have planted trees which blossom and bear fruit, and am just intending to enjoy my life, I am to die! O Lord, lengthen my time.”

  “I will add to it the ass’s eighteen years,” said God.

  “That is not enough,” replied the man.

  “You shall also have the dog’s twelve years.”

  “Still too little!”

  “Well, then,” said God, “I will give you the monkey’s ten years also, but more you shall not have.” The man went away, but was not satisfied.

  So man lives seventy years. The first thirty are his human years, which are soon gone; then is he healthy, merry, works with pleasure, and is glad of his life. Then follow the ass’s eighteen years, when one burden after another is laid on him: he has to carry the corn which feeds others, and blows and kicks are the reward of his faithful services. Then come the dog’s twelve years, when he lies in the corner, and growls and has no longer any teeth to bite with, and when this time is over the monkey’s ten years form the end. Then man is weak-headed and foolish, does silly things, and becomes the jest of children.

  WOMAN CHOOSES DEATH

  American Indi
an (Blackfoot)

  Old Man decided that something was missing in the world he had made. He thought it would be a good thing to create a woman and a child. He didn’t quite know how they should look, but he took some clay and mud and for four days tried out different shapes. At first he didn’t like the looks of the beings he formed. On the fourth day, however, he shaped a woman in a pleasing form, round and nice, with everything in front and back, above and below, just right.

  “This is good,” Old Man said, “this the kind of woman I like to have in my world.” Then he made a little child resembling the woman. “Well,” said Old Man, “this is just what I wanted, but they’re not alive yet.”

  Old Man covered them up for four days. On the first day he looked under the cover and saw a faint trembling. On the second day the figures could raise their heads. On the third day they moved their arms and legs. “Soon they will be ready,” said Old Man. And on the fourth day he looked underneath the cover and saw his figures crawling around. “They’re ready now to walk upon my world,” thought Old Man. He took the cover off and told the woman and the child, “Walk upright like human beings.” The woman and the child stood up. They began to walk, and they were perfect.

  They followed Old Man down to the river, where he gave them the power of speech. At once the woman asked, “What is that state we are in, walking, moving, breathing, eating?”

  “That is life,” said Old Man. “Before, you were just lumps of mud. Now, you live.”

  “When we were lumps of mud, were we alive then?” asked the woman.

  “No, said Old Man, “you were not alive.”

  “What do you call the state we were in then?” asked the woman.

  “It is called death,” answered Old Man. “When you are not alive, then you are dead.”

  “Will we be alive always?” asked the woman. “Will we go on living forever, or shall we be dead again at some time?”

  Old Man pondered. He said, “I didn’t think about that at all. Let’s decide it right now. Here’s a buffalo chip. If it floats, then people will die and come back to life four days later.”

  “No,” said the woman. “This buffalo chip will dissolve in the water. I’ll throw in this stone. If it floats, we’ll live forever and there will be no death. If it sinks, then we’ll die.” The woman didn’t know anything yet, because she had been walking on earth for just a few hours. She didn’t know about stones and water, so she threw the stone into the river and it sank.

  “You made a choice there,” said Old Man. “Now nothing can be done about it. Now people will die.”

  JUMP INTO MY SACK

  Italy

  Many, many years ago, in the barren mountains of Niolo, lived a father with twelve sons. A famine was raging, and the father said, “My sons, I have no more bread to give you. Go out into the world, where you will certainly fare better than here at home.”

  The eleven older boys were getting ready to leave, when the twelfth and youngest, who was lame, started weeping. “And what will a cripple like me do to earn his bread?”

  “My child,” said his father, “don’t cry. Go with your brothers, and what they earn will be yours as well.”

  So the twelve promised to stay together always and departed. They walked a whole day, then a second, and the little lame boy fell constantly behind. On the third day, the oldest brother said, “Our little brother Francis, who’s always lagging, is nothing but a nuisance! Let’s walk off and leave him on the road. That will be best for him too, for some kind-hearted soul will come along and take pity on him.”

  So they stopped no more to wait for him to catch up, but walked on, asking alms of everyone they met, all the way to Bonifacio.

  In Bonifacio they saw a boat moored at the dock. “What if we climbed in and sailed to Sardinia?” said the oldest boy. “Maybe there’s less hunger there than in our land.”

  The brothers got into the boat and set sail. When they were halfway across the straits, a fierce storm arose and the boat was dashed to pieces on the reefs, and all eleven brothers drowned.

  Meanwhile the little cripple Francis, exhausted and frantic when he missed his brothers, screamed and cried and then fell asleep by the roadside. The fairy guardian of that particular spot had seen and heard everything from a treetop. As soon as Francis was asleep, she came down the tree, picked certain special herbs, and prepared a plaster, which she smoothed on the lame leg; immediately the leg became sound. Then she disguised herself as a poor little old woman and sat down on a bundle of firewood to wait for Francis to wake up.

  Francis awakened, got up, prepared to limp off, and then realized he was no longer lame but could walk like everyone else. He saw the little old woman sitting there, and asked, “Madam, have you by chance seen a doctor around here?”

  “A doctor? What do you want with a doctor?”

  “I want to thank him. A great doctor must certainly have come by while I was sleeping and cured my lame leg.”

  “I am the one who cured your lame leg,” replied the little old woman, “since I know all about herbs, including the one that heals lame legs.”

  As pleased as Punch, Francis threw his arms around the little old woman and kissed her on both cheeks. “How can I thank you, ma’am? Here, let me carry your bundle of wood for you.”

  He bent over to pick up the bundle, but when he stood up, he faced not the old woman, but the most beautiful maiden imaginable, all radiant with diamonds and blond hair down to her waist; she wore a deep blue dress embroidered with gold, and two stars of precious stones sparkled on her ankle-boots. Dumbfounded, Francis fell at the fairy’s feet.

  “Get up,” she said. “I am well aware that you are grateful, and I shall help you. Make two wishes, and I will grant them at once. I am the queen of the fairies of Lake Creno, mind you.”

  The boy thought a bit, then replied, “I desire a sack that will suck in whatever I name.”

  “And just such a sack shall you have. Now make one more wish.”

  “I desire a stick that will do whatever I command.”

  “And just such a stick shall you have,” replied the fairy, and vanished. At Francis’s feet lay a sack and a stick.

  Overjoyed, the boy decided to try them out. Being hungry, he cried, “A roasted partridge into my sack!” Zoom! A partridge fully roasted flew into the sack. “Along with bread!” Zoom! A loaf of bread came sailing into the sack. “Also a bottle of wine!” Zoom! There was the bottle of wine. Francis ate a first-rate meal.

  Then he set out again, limping no longer, and the next day he found himself in Mariana, where the most famous gamblers of Corsica and the Continent were meeting. Francis didn’t have a cent to his name, so he ordered, “One hundred thousand crowns into my sack!” and the sack filled with crowns. The news spread like wildfire through Mariana that the fabulously wealthy prince of Santo Francesco had arrived.

  At that particular time, mind you, the Devil was especially partial to the city of Mariana. Disguised as a handsome young man, he beat everybody at cards, and when the players ran out of money, he would purchase their souls. Hearing of this rich foreigner who went by the name of prince of Santo Francesco, the Devil in disguise approached him without delay. “Noble prince, pardon my boldness in coming to you, but your fame as a gambler is so great that I couldn’t resist calling on you.”

  “You put me to shame,” replied Francis. “To tell the truth, I don’t know how to play any game at all, nor have I ever had a deck of cards in my hand. However, I would be happy to play a hand with you, just for the sake of learning the game, and I’m sure that with you as a teacher I’ll be an expert in no time.”

  The Devil was so gratified by the visit that upon taking leave and bowing goodbye, he negligently stretched out a leg and showed his cloven hoof. “Oh, me!” said Francis to himself. “So this is old Satan himself who has honored me with a visit. Very well, he will meet his match.” Once more alone, he commanded of the sack a fine dinner.

  The next day Francis went to th
e casino. There was a great turmoil, with all the people crowded around one particular spot. Francis pushed through and saw, on the ground, the body of a young man with a blood-stained chest. “He was a gambler,” someone explained, “who lost his entire fortune and thrust a dagger into his heart, not a minute ago.”

  All the gamblers were sad-faced. But one, noted Francis, stood in their midst laughing up his sleeve; it was the Devil who had paid Francis a visit.

  “Quick!” said the Devil, “Let’s take this unfortunate man out, and get on with the game!” And they all picked up their cards once more.

  Francis, who didn’t even know how to hold the cards in his hand, lost everything he had with him that day. By the second day he knew a little bit about the game, but lost still more than the day before. By the third day he was an expert, and lost so much that everyone was sure he was ruined. But the loss did not trouble him in the least, since there was his sack he could command and then find inside all the money he needed.

  He lost so much that the Devil thought to himself, He might have been the richest man in existence to start with, but he’s surely about to end up now with nothing to his name. “Noble prince,” he said, taking him aside, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am over the misfortune that has befallen you. But I have good news for you: heed my words and you will recover half of what you lost!”

  “How?”

  The Devil looked around, then whispered, “Sell me your soul!”

  “Ah!” cried Francis. “So that’s your advice to me, Satan? Go on, jump into my sack!”

  The Devil smirked and aimed to flee, but there was no escape: he flew head-first into the yawning sack, which Francis closed, then addressed the stick, “Now pound him for all you’re worth!”

  Blows rained fast and furious. Inside, the Devil writhed, cried, cursed. “Let me out! Let me out! Stop, or you’ll kill me!”