Russian Fairy Tales — 11 - Chapter 2 - Mythological - Part 4 - Koshchei the Deathless

And so they visited, and they feasted; and afterwards they went off to their own realm.

[104] With the Baba Yaga, the feminine counterpart of Koshchei and the Snake, we shall deal presently, and the Waters of Life and Death will find special notice elsewhere.

[105] A magic water, which brings back the dead to life, plays a prominent part in the folk-lore of all lands, but the two waters, each performing one part only of the cure, render very noteworthy the Slavonic stories in which they occur.

The Princess, Marya Morevna, who slaughters whole armies before she is married, and then becomes mild and gentle, belongs to a class of heroines who frequently occur both in the stories and in the "metrical romances," and to whom may be applied the remarks made by Kemble with reference to a similar Amazon.

[106] In one of the variants of the story the representative of Marya Morevna fights the hero before she marries him.

[107] The Bluebeard incident of the forbidden closet is one which often occurs in the Skazkas, as we shall see further on; and the same may be said about the gratitude of the Bird, Bee, and Lioness.

The story of Immortal Koshchei is one of very frequent occurrence, the different versions maintaining a unity of idea, but varying considerably in detail.

In one of them,[108] in which Koshchei's part is played by a Snake, the hero's sisters are carried off by their feathered admirers without his leave being asked--an omission for which a full apology is afterwards made; in another, the history of "Fedor Tugarin and Anastasia the Fair,"[109] the hero's three sisters are wooed and won, not by the Falcon, the Eagle, and the Raven, but by the Wind, the Hail, and the Thunder.

He himself marries the terrible heroine Anastasia the Fair, in the forbidden chamber of whose palace he finds a snake "hung up by one of its ribs."

He gives it a lift and it gets free from its hook and flies away, carrying off Anastasia the Fair.

Fedor eventually finds her, escapes with her on a magic foal which he obtains, thanks to the aid of grateful wolves, bees, and crayfish, and destroys the snake by striking it "on the forehead" with the stone which was destined to be its death.

In a third version of the story,[110] the hero finds in the forbidden chamber "Koshchei the Deathless, in a cauldron amid flames, boiling in pitch."

There he has been, he declares, for fifteen years, having been lured there by the beauty of Anastasia the Fair.

In a fourth,[111] in which the hero's three sisters marry three beggars, who turn out to be snakes with twenty, thirty, and forty heads apiece, Koshchei is found in the forbidden chamber, seated on a horse which is chained to a cauldron.

He begs the hero to unloose the horse, promising, in return, to save him from three deaths.

[Into the mystery of the forbidden chamber I will not enter fully at present.

Suffice to say that there can be little doubt as to its being the same as that in which Bluebeard kept the corpses of his dead wives.

In the Russian, as well as in the Oriental stories, it is generally the curiosity of a man, not of a woman, which leads to the opening of the prohibited room.

In the West of Europe the fatal inquisitiveness is more frequently ascribed to a woman.

For parallels see the German stories of "Marienkind," and "Fitchers Vogel."

(Grimm, _KM.

_, Nos.

3 and 46, also the notes in Bd.

iii.

pp. 8, 76, 324. ) Less familiar than these is, probably, the story of "Die eisernen Stiefel" (Wolf's "Deutsche Hausmaerchen," 1851, No. 19), in which the hero opens a forbidden door--that of a summer-house--and sees "deep down below him the earth, and on the earth his father's palace," and is seized by a sudden longing after his former home.

The Wallachian story of "The Immured Mother" (Schott, No. 2) resembles Grimm's "Marienkind" in many points.

But its forbidden chamber differs from that of the German tale.

In the latter the rash intruder sees "die Dreieinigkeit im Feuer und Glanz sitzen;" in the former, "the Holy Mother of God healing the wounds of her Son, the Lord Christ."

In the Neapolitan story of "Le tre Corune" (Pentamerone, No. 36), the forbidden chamber contains "three maidens, clothed all in gold, sitting and seeming to slumber upon as many thrones" (Liebrecht's translation, ii.

76).

The Esthonian tale of the "Wife-murderer" (Loewe's "Ehstnische Maerchen," No. 20) is remarkably--not to say suspiciously--like that French story of Blue Beard which has so often made our young blood run cold.

Sister Anne is represented, and so are the rescuing brothers, the latter in the person of the heroine's old friend and playmate, Toennis the goose-herd.

Several very curious Gaelic versions of the story are given by Mr. Campbell ("Tales of the West Highlands," No. 41, ii.

265-275).

Two of the three daughters of a poor widow look into a forbidden chamber, find it "full of dead gentlewomen," get stained knee-deep in blood, and refuse to give a drop of milk to a cat which offers its services.

So their heads are chopped off.

The third daughter makes friends with the cat, which licks off the tell-tale blood, so she escapes detection.

In a Greek story (Hahn, ii.

p. 197) the hero discovers in the one-and-fortieth room of a castle belonging to a Drakos, who had given him leave to enter forty only, a magic horse, and before the door of the room he finds a pool of gold in which he becomes gilded.

In another (Hahn, No. 15) a prince finds in the forbidden fortieth a lake in which fairies of the swan-maiden species are bathing.

In a third (No. 45) the fortieth room contains a golden horse and a golden dog which assist their bold releaser.

In a fourth (No. 68) it imprisons "a fair maiden, shining like the sun," whom the demon proprietor of the castle has hung up within it by her hair.

As usual, all these stories are hard to understand.

But one of the most important of their Oriental equivalents is perfectly intelligible.

When Saktideva, in the fifth book of the "Kathasaritsagara," comes after long travel to the Golden City, and is welcomed as her destined husband by its princess, she warns him not to ascend the central terrace of her palace.

Of course he does so, and finds three chambers, in each of which lies the lifeless form of a fair maiden.

After gazing at these seeming corpses, in one of which he recognizes his first love, he approaches a horse which is grazing beside a lake.

The horse kicks him into the water; he sinks deep--and comes up again in his native land.

The whole of the story is, towards its termination, fully explained by one of its principal characters--one of the four maidens whom Saktideva simultaneously marries.

With the version of this romance in the "Arabian Nights" ("History of the Third Royal Mendicant," Lane, i. 160-173), everyone is doubtless acquainted.

A less familiar story is that of Kandarpaketu, in the second book of the "Hitopadesa," who lives happily for a time as the husband of the beautiful semi-divine queen of the Golden City.

At last, contrary to her express commands, he ventures to touch a picture of a Vidyadhari.

In an instant the pictured demigoddess gives him a kick which sends him flying back into his own country.

For an explanation of the myth which lies at the root of all these stories, see Cox's "Mythology of the Aryan Nations," ii.

36, 330. See also Professor de Gubernatis's "Zoological Mythology," i. 168. ] We will now take one of those versions of the story which describe how Koshchei's death is brought about by the destruction of that extraneous object on which his existence depends.

The incident is one which occupies a prominent place in the stories of this class current in all parts of Europe and Asia, and its result is almost always the same.

But the means by which that result is brought about differ considerably in different lands.

In the Russian tales the "death" of the Evil Being with whom the hero contends--the substance, namely, the destruction of which involves his death--is usually the last of a sequence of objects either identical with, or closely resembling, those mentioned in the following story of-- KOSHCHEI THE DEATHLESS.

[112] In a certain country there once lived a king, and he had three sons, all of them grown up.

All of a sudden Koshchei the Deathless carried off their mother.

Then the eldest son craved his father's blessing, that he might go and look for his mother.

His father gave him his blessing, and he went off and disappeared, leaving no trace behind.

The second son waited and waited, then he too obtained his father's blessing--and he also disappeared.

Then the youngest son, Prince Ivan, said to his father, "Father, give me your blessing, and let me go and look for my mother."

But his father would not let him go, saying, "Your brothers are no more; if you likewise go away, I shall die of grief."

"Not so, father.

But if you bless me I shall go; and if you do not bless me I shall go."

So his father gave him his blessing.

Prince Ivan went to choose a steed, but every one that he laid his hand upon gave way under it.

He could not find a steed to suit him, so he wandered with drooping brow along the road and about the town.

Suddenly there appeared an old woman, who asked: "Why hangs your brow so low, Prince Ivan?"

"Be off, old crone," he replied.

"If I put you on one of my hands, and give it a slap with the other, there'll be a little wet left, that's all."

[113] The old woman ran down a by-street, came to meet him a second time, and said: "Good day, Prince Ivan!

why hangs your brow so low?"

Then he thought: "Why does this old woman ask me?

Mightn't she be of use to me?"

--and he replied: "Well, mother!

because I cannot get myself a good steed."

"Silly fellow!"

she cried, "to suffer, and not to ask the old woman's help!

Come along with me."

She took him to a hill, showed him a certain spot, and said: "Dig up that piece of ground."

Prince Ivan dug it up and saw an iron plate with twelve padlocks on it.

He immediately broke off the padlocks, tore open a door, and followed a path leading underground.

There, fastened with twelve chains, stood a heroic steed which evidently heard the approaching steps of a rider worthy to mount it, and so began to neigh and to struggle, until it broke all twelve of its chains.

Then Prince Ivan put on armor fit for a hero, and bridled the horse, and saddled it with a Circassian saddle.

And he gave the old woman money, and said to her: "Forgive me, mother, and bless me!"

then he mounted his steed and rode away.

Long time did he ride; at last he came to a mountain--a tremendously high mountain, and so steep that it was utterly impossible to get up it.

Presently his brothers came that way.

They all greeted each other, and rode on together, till they came to an iron rock[114] a hundred and fifty poods in weight, and on it was this inscription, "Whosoever will fling this rock against the mountain, to him will a way be opened."

The two elder brothers were unable to lift the rock, but Prince Ivan at the first try flung it against the mountain--and immediately there appeared a ladder leading up the mountain side.

Prince Ivan dismounted, let some drops of blood run from his little finger into a glass, gave it to his brothers, and said: "If the blood in this glass turns black, tarry here no longer: that will mean that I am about to die."

Then he took leave of them and went his way.

He mounted the hill.

What did not he see there?

All sorts of trees were there, all sorts of fruits, all sorts of birds!

Long did Prince Ivan walk on; at last he came to a house, a huge house!

In it lived a king's daughter who had been carried off by Koshchei the Deathless.

Prince Ivan walked round the enclosure, but could not see any doors.

The king's daughter saw there was some one there, came on to the balcony, and called out to him, "See, there is a chink in the enclosure; touch it with your little finger, and it will become a door."

What she said turned out to be true.

Prince Ivan went into the house, and the maiden received him kindly, gave him to eat and to drink, and then began to question him.

He told her how he had come to rescue his mother from Koshchei the Deathless.

Then the maiden said: "It will be difficult for you to get at your mother, Prince Ivan.

You see, Koshchei is not mortal: he will kill you.

He often comes here to see me.

There is his sword, fifty poods in weight.

Can you lift it?

If so, you may venture to go."

Not only did Prince Ivan lift the sword, but he tossed it high in the air.

So he went on his way again.

By-and-by he came to a second house.

He knew now where to look for the door, and he entered in.

There was his mother.

With tears did they embrace each other.

Here also did he try his strength, heaving aloft a ball which weighed some fifteen hundred poods.

The time came for Koshchei the Deathless to arrive.

The mother hid away her son.

Suddenly Koshchei the Deathless entered the house and cried out, "Phou, Phou!

A Russian bone[115] one usen't to hear with one's ears, or see with one's eyes, but now a Russian bone has come to the house!

Who has been with you?

Wasn't it your son?"

"What are you talking about, God bless you!

You've been flying through Russia, and got the air up your nostrils, that's why you fancy it's here," answered Prince Ivan's mother, and then she drew nigh to Koshchei, addressed him in terms of affection, asked him about one thing and another, and at last said: "Whereabouts is your death, O Koshchei?"

"My death," he replied, "is in such a place.

There stands an oak, and under the oak is a casket, and in the casket is a hare, and in the hare is a duck, and in the duck is an egg, and in the egg is my death."

Having thus spoken, Koshchei the Deathless tarried there a little longer, and then flew away.

The time came--Prince Ivan received his mother's blessing, and went to look for Koshchei's death.

He went on his way a long time without eating or drinking; at last he felt mortally hungry, and thought, "If only something would come my way!"

Suddenly there appeared a young wolf; he determined to kill it.

But out from a hole sprang the she wolf, and said, "Don't hurt my little one; I'll do you a good turn."

Very good!

Prince Ivan let the young wolf go.

On he went and saw a crow.

"Stop a bit," he thought, "here I shall get a mouthful."

He loaded his gun and was going to shoot, but the crow exclaimed, "Don't hurt me; I'll do you a good turn."

Prince Ivan thought the matter over and spared the crow.

Then he went farther, and came to a sea and stood still on the shore.

At that moment a young pike suddenly jumped out of the water and fell on the strand.

He caught hold of it, and thought--for he was half dead with hunger--"Now I shall have something to eat."

All of a sudden appeared a pike and said, "Don't hurt my little one, Prince Ivan; I'll do you a good turn."

And so he spared the little pike also.

But how was he to cross the sea?

He sat down on the shore and meditated.

But the pike knew quite well what he was thinking about, and laid herself right across the sea.

Prince Ivan walked along her back, as if he were going over a bridge, and came to the oak where Koshchei's death was.

There he found the casket and opened it--out jumped the hare and ran away.

How was the hare to be stopped?

Prince Ivan was terribly frightened at having let the hare escape, and gave himself up to gloomy thoughts; but a wolf, the one he had refrained from killing, rushed after the hare, caught it, and brought it to Prince Ivan.

With great delight he seized the hare, cut it open--and had such a fright!

Out popped the duck and flew away.

He fired after it, but shot all on one side, so again he gave himself up to his thoughts.

Suddenly there appeared the crow with her little crows, and set off after the duck, and caught it, and brought it to Prince Ivan.

The Prince was greatly pleased and got hold of the egg.

Then he went on his way.

But when he came to the sea, he began washing the egg, and let it drop into the water.

However was he to get it out of the water?

an immeasurable depth!

Again the Prince gave himself up to dejection.

Suddenly the sea became violently agitated, and the pike brought him the egg.

Moreover it stretched itself across the sea.

Prince Ivan walked along it to the other side, and then he set out again for his mother's. When he got there, they greeted each other lovingly, and then she hid him again as before.

Presently in flew Koshchei the Deathless and said: "Phoo, Phoo!

No Russian bone can the ear hear nor the eye see, but there's a smell of Russia here!"

"What are you talking about, Koshchei?

There's no one with me," replied Prince Ivan's mother.

A second time spake Koshchei and said, "I feel rather unwell."

Then Prince Ivan began squeezing the egg, and thereupon Koshchei the Deathless bent double.

At last Prince Ivan came out from his hiding-place, held up the egg and said, "There is your death, O Koshchei the Deathless!"

Then Koshchei fell on his knees before him, saying, "Don't kill me, Prince Ivan!

Let's be friends!

All the world will lie at our feet."

But these words had no weight with Prince Ivan.

He smashed the egg, and Koshchei the Deathless died.

Ivan and his mother took all they wanted and started homewards.

On their way they came to where the King's daughter was whom Ivan had seen on his way, and they took her with them too.

They went further, and came to the hill where Ivan's brothers were still waiting for him.

Then the maiden said, "Prince Ivan!

do go back to my house.

I have forgotten a marriage robe, a diamond ring, and a pair of seamless shoes."

He consented to do so, but in the mean time he let his mother go down the ladder, as well as the Princess--whom it had been settled he was to marry when they got home.

They were received by his brothers, who then set to work and cut away the ladder, so that he himself would not be able to get down.

And they used such threats to his mother and the Princess, that they made them promise not to tell about Prince Ivan when they got home.

And after a time they reached their native country.

Their father was delighted at seeing his wife and his two sons, but still he was grieved about the other one, Prince Ivan.

But Prince Ivan returned to the home of his betrothed, and got the wedding dress, and the ring, and the seamless shoes.

Then he came back to the mountain and tossed the ring from one hand to the other.

Immediately there appeared twelve strong youths, who said: "What are your commands?"

"Carry me down from this hill."

The youths immediately carried him down.

Prince Ivan put the ring on his finger--they disappeared.

Then he went on to his own country, and arrived at the city in which his father and brothers lived.

There he took up his quarters in the house of an old woman, and asked her: "What news is there, mother, in your country?"

"What news, lad?

You see our queen was kept in prison by Koshchei the Deathless.

Her three sons went to look for her, and two of them found her and came back, but the third, Prince Ivan, has disappeared, and no one knows where he is.

The King is very unhappy about him.

And those two Princes and their mother brought a certain Princess back with them;

and the eldest son wants to marry her, but she declares he must fetch her her betrothal ring first, or get one made just as she wants it.

But although they have made a public proclamation about it, no one has been found to do it yet."

"Well, mother, go and tell the King that you will make one.

I'll manage it for you," said Prince Ivan.

So the old woman immediately dressed herself, and hastened to the King, and said: "Please, your Majesty, I will make the wedding ring."

"Make it, then, make it, mother!

Such people as you are welcome," said the king.

"But if you don't make it, off goes your head!"

The old woman was dreadfully frightened; she ran home, and told Prince Ivan to set to work at the ring.

But Ivan lay down to sleep, troubling himself very little about it.

The ring was there all the time.

So he only laughed at the old woman, but she was trembling all over, and crying, and scolding him.

"As for you," she said, "you're out of the scrape; but you've done for me, fool that I was!"

The old woman cried and cried until she fell asleep.

Early in the morning Prince Ivan got up and awakened her, saying: "Get up, mother, and go out!

take them the ring, and mind, don't accept more than one ducat for it.

If anyone asks who made the ring, say you made it yourself; don't say a word about me."

The old woman was overjoyed and carried off the ring.

The bride was delighted with it.

"Just what I wanted," she said.

So they gave the old woman a dish full of gold, but she took only one ducat.

"Why do you take so little?"

said the king.

"What good would a lot do me, your Majesty?

if I want some more afterwards, you'll give it me."

Having said this the old woman went away.

Time passed, and the news spread abroad that the bride had told her lover to fetch her her wedding-dress or else to get one made, just such a one as she wanted.

Well, the old woman, thanks to Prince Ivan's aid, succeeded in this matter too, and took her the wedding-dress.

And afterwards she took her the seamless shoes also, and would only accept one ducat each time and always said that she had made the things herself.

Well, the people heard that there would be a wedding at the palace on such-and-such a day.

And the day they all anxiously awaited came at last.

Then Prince Ivan said to the old woman: "Look here, mother!

when the bride is just going to be married, let me know."

The old woman didn't let the time go by unheeded.

Then Ivan immediately put on his princely raiment, and went out of the house.

"See, mother, this is what I'm really like!"

says he.

The old woman fell at his feet.

"Pray forgive me for scolding you," said she.

"God be with you," said he.

[116] So he went into the church and, finding his brothers had not yet arrived, he stood up alongside of the bride and got married to her.

Then he and she were escorted back to the palace, and as they went along, the proper bridegroom, his eldest brother, met them.

But when he saw that his bride and Prince Ivan were being escorted home together, he turned back again ignominiously.