A Cure for Story-Telling
by Alexander Afanasyev · from Russian Fairy Tales
Original Story
A Cure for Story-Telling
There was once a porter in the world: he had a wife who was passionately
fond of stories, and she would only let people come and visit her who
could tell stories. Well, as you may understand, this was rather costly
to the husband. So he began to think, “How can I cure her of this
undesirable habit?”
Well, one day in the winter, late at night, an old man came in frozen to
atoms, and he asked to be allowed to stop the night. So the husband ran
out to him and said, “Can you tell tales?”
Then the peasant saw that there was no help for it, as he was simply
freezing with cold, and said, “I have an idea: will you tell stories for
a long time?”
“Yes, all night long.”
“Capital: come in!”
So he led the guest in.
Then the husband said, “Now, my wife, here is a peasant who has promised
to tell stories all night long, on the condition that you are not to
make any remarks or interruptions.”
“Yes,” said the guest; “no remarks, or else I shall not open my mouth.”
So they had supper and lay down to sleep, and the peasant began—
“There was an owl flying across a garden, and it sat over a well and
sipped the water.
“There was an owl flying across a garden, and it sat over a well and
sipped the water.
“There was an owl flying across a garden, and it sat over a well and
sipped the water.
“There was an owl flying across a garden, and it sat over a well and
sipped the water.”
And he went on telling the same thing over and over again—
“There was an owl flying across a garden, and it sat over a well and
sipped the water.”
So the mistress went on listening, and at last interrupted: “What sort
of a tale is this? Why, it is a mere repetition.”
“Why do you interrupt me? I told you you must not make any exclamations:
this is the preface of the tale, and there comes another after it.”
Then the man, after hearing this, could not help leaping up from the
bench and whipping his wife.
“You were told not to make any interruptions, and you will not let him
end his story.”
So he set on beating, beating, whipping, slippering, basting her, until
the wife at the end hated stories, and was in despair ever afterwards at
the sound of them.
NOTES
Alyósha Popóvich. One of the great knights at the court of Prince
Vladímir. He was an effeminate kind of person and perhaps one who rather
incited others to effort by his jibes than by his prowess. He is always
given the uncomplimentary soubriquet of the ‘Mocker of Women.’ His
principal heroic episode is told in the prose ballad in this book
entitled ‘Alyósha Popóvich.’
Angey, Tsar. Filuyán is a fabulous city found in the cantations and
mystical rites of the Russian peasants. It is, however, probably derived
from the Greek Θύλη.
Bába Yagá. In Professor Sypherd’s studies on Chaucer’s _House of
Fame_, Chaucer Society, 1904, a most valuable note will be found on
revolving houses. It will be seen that the legend is cognate with magic
wheels that revolve at great speed, or turn on wheels emitting flame and
poison. The nearest analogy quoted is the whirling rampart in the _Mael
Duinn_, but the Russian legend is evidently related and not derived.
Bogatýr. The bogatýr is the Russian Knight, but is absolutely unlike
any Western romantic notion. He is a person of magical power and
gigantic stature and prowess. Some of the bogatyrí are decidedly
demi-gods; others more decisively human; but they all have some
superhuman, it may be said inhuman, touch. The derivation of the word
has been very much in dispute. The characteristic thing to note is that
the word is only found in Russian, and in no other Slavonic language,
and is almost certainly of Tatar origin, the original form being
something like Bagadur. The Sanskrit derivation which is attempted of
Baghadhara seems scarcely probable. Goryáyev’s dictionary states that
the original meaning was a company-commander of the Tatars. If so,
bogatýr is probably a corruption (through bog God and bogat rich)
of the form buĭtur, found in the Slóvo, which is certainly cognate
with the Turanian root buĭ, to command. v. notes in my edition of
Igor.
Bryánsk. Bryánsk in the Province of Orél contains wonderful woods
which were in ancient times impenetrable, and became the legendary home
of magic, and of weird happenings. The Aspen tree is always associated
in Russian folk-lore with magic and wizardry; it is also said that Judas
hanged himself on this tree.
Chernígov. An ancient city of Russia on the Dniepr, a little higher up
than Kíev.
Christ. As, in German folk-lore, the legends of Christ walking the
earth with His disciples are very frequent and characteristic. There is
a touch of friendly familiarity in this presentation which does not
involve the least irreverence, but adds a touch of sarcastic humour
which the Germans lack.
The Brother of Christ. For the punishment of the old man who grumbled
at the good things of earth there is a surprisingly close analogy in
Dante’s Inferno, canto vii.
“Fitti nel limo dicon; Tristi fummo
Nell’ aer dolce che dal sol s’allegra,
Portando dentro accidioso fummo:
Or c’ attristiam nella belletta negra.”
“Sunk in the slime they utter: ‘Loth were we,
In sweet air sullen, which the sun makes glad,
Our souls besmirched with dull reluctancy:
Now in this black morass, our hearts are sad.’”
Chufil-Filyushka. Both these names are adaptations of the Greek
Θεόφιλος.
THE CRYSTAL APPLE AND THE SILVER SAUCER
There is a strong Celtic flavour about this episode. Cf. The Twa Sisters
o’ Binnorie.
Ho’s ta’en three locks o’ her yellow hair
(Binnorie, oh Binnorie),
And wi’ them strung his harp sae rare
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.
And sune the harp sang loud and clear
(Binnorie, oh Binnorie),
Fareweel my father, and mother dear!
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.
And then, as plain as plain could be,
(Binnorie, oh Binnorie),
There sits my sister wha drowned me!
By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie.
In this story the Russian of the words sung by the piper is also in
Russian ballad metre.
Danílo the Unfortunate. This is a prose version of a ballad and
contains a very full account of this legend. The old hag whom Danílo
meets on the way is elsewhere called the Wise Woman of Kíev, an old
witch with the ugly qualities generally assigned.
Death. Death is feminine in Russian and occurs all through the
folk-lore as the visible figure of a skeleton whom they met by the way
on the roadsides, and who may be cheated of her prey or dealt with like
any other demon.
Dobrýnya Nikítich. One of the great figures at the legendary court of
Prince Vladímir. He was a dragon-slayer, but his principal employment
was as ambassador.
THE DREAM. NOTES
The izbá, or hut, always has a dvor or courtyard, access to which is
gained through double gates as well as through a postern. Often the hut
is raised by a flight of steps from the level of the courtyard.
The izbá may have a cooling room in which to rest, so as to avoid the
sudden change of air from the heated inner room; it is also a living
room in the summer. Outside the dvor against the fence there is a
bench (lávka), on which the family sits in the summer. The hut is made
of logs, the fence of boards.
Between the rafters and the sloped roof is the loft (cherdák), into
which a ladder leads.
Inside the hut is that essential and central feature of Russian peasant
life, the stove, which occupies one side of a wall. In front against it
three long implements stand, the poker, broom and shovel. The oven rests
on a brick or tile foundation, about eighteen inches high, with a
semicircular hollow space below. The top of the stove is used for a
sleeping bench (poláty) for the old folk or the honoured guest. In
larger houses there may be a lezhán’ka or heating stove, used as a
sleeping sofa.
The bath-house is separate from the hut, and contains a flight of steps
for different degrees of heat, obtained from white-hot stones on which
water is flung. This is only found in better-class houses. In villages
there is a general bath-house to which the peasants go once a week.
Every corner in the izbá has its particular name. There is the _great
corner_, where the Ikon stands, the upper corner near the door, and
the stove corner opposite to the doors of the stove.
The fence is made of boards or sticks or stumps.
Long thin laths are stuck on to an iron spike, and lit; a pail of water
is placed below into which the cinders fall; these lamps must be renewed
as they burn down, and the charred ends swept up.
Up to very recent times, patriarchal usages obtained through Russia, and
married sons resided in the father’s house.
This particular story portrays some of the personifications and
allegorizings of the common acts of life; all of which have their
appropriate blessing or grace. There are a number of tales of the curse
attendant on the neglect of these duties, e.g. _The Devil in the
Dough-pan_.
An example of the invocations is given in a note to _The Midnight
Dance_.
Duke. i.e. a translation of voyevodá, which is again a translation
of the High-German Herzog, which again is derived from the Latin
Dux, meaning the leader of an army, not a mere title.
Egóri Khrábry. Egori the Brave. Is the Russian counterpart for St.
George the Dragon-slayer.
Elijah the Prophet and St. Nicholas. Perún was the God of Thunder in
pagan Slavdom, and his attributes have been transferred to Elijah who is
represented as driven up to Heaven in a fiery chariot darting fiery
rays, drawn by four winged horses, and surrounded by clouds and flames;
a tale which copied the biblical account of Elijah’s end. On earth the
noise of the wheels is called thunder. In Nóvgorod there were one or two
churches to St. Elijah of the Drought, and St. Elijah of the Rain, to be
consulted as occasion required. The name-days of these saints are
December 6th and July 20th.
Hawk. The hawk is one of the most common references in Russian
folk-lore, and the reference to the clear-eyed hawk is one of the
strongest metaphors. The crow is equally common, but is generally used
as a malign being. In Russian folk-tale there is nothing incongruous in
a man having as his sons a boy, a crow and a hawk or an eagle: or as in
‘Márya Morévna,’ where the marriage of Iván with a beautiful princess
and of his two sisters with the eagle and the crow are all of them
equally plausible.
Ídolishche. One of the symbols of paganism in the early ballads of
Russia. He is generally represented as a gluttonous monster; but in the
ballad of the Realms of Copper, Silver, and Gold his name has been given
too as a goblin. Goblins are very rare in Russian folk-lore; fairies
seem to be non-existent.
Ilyá Múromets. Ilyá Múromets is one of the heroes of the Kíev cycle;
he derives his strength from mystical sources of Mother Earth, and his
great feat is the slaying of the Nightingale Robber. He is intermediate
between the ‘elder bogatyri,’ the earth-born Tirans, and the human
champions of the legendary Court of Vladímir. He is always of popular
origin and, as such, at variance with the semi-Scandinavian Court.
Iván Vasíl’evich. The Tsar Iván Vasíl’evich is a very popular figure
in the Russian ballads; there are two of this name: Iván III. 1462–1505,
and Iván the Terrible, 1533–1584. Both were very energetic rulers who
enlarged the domain of Moscow and curbed the power of the territorial
nobility.
MIDNIGHT DANCE. GENERAL NOTES TO THIS STORY
The underworld is the home of magic. This charm, to be said by a soldier
going to the wars, may be of interest.
“Beneath the sea, the sea of Khvalýnsk [the Caspian], there stands a
house of bronze, and in that house of bronze the fiery serpent is
enchained, and under the fiery serpent lies the seven pud key from the
castle of the Prince, the Prince Vladímir, and in the princely castle,
the castle of Vladímir, are laid the knightly trappings of the knights
of Nóvgorod, of the youthful war-men.
“On the broad Volga, on the steep-set banks, the princely swan swims
from the Prince’s courtyard. I will capture that swan, I will seize it,
I will grasp it. (I will say) ‘Thou, oh swan, fly to the sea of
Khvalýnsk, peck the fiery snake to death, gain the seven pud key, the
key from the earth of Prince Vladímir.’ In my power it is not to fly to
the sea of Khvalýnsk; in my power it is not to peck to death the fiery
snake; nor with my legs may I reach the seven pud key. There is on the
sea, on the ocean, on the island of Buyán, the eldest brother of all the
crows, and he will fly to the sea of Khvalýnsk, he will peck to death
the fiery snake, he will gain the seven pud key; but the crow is held
back by the evil witch of Kíev. In the standing wood, in the grey-clad
forest, stands a little hut, not thatched, not wattled; and, in the
little hut, lies the evil witch of Kíev. I will go to the standing
forest, the dreamy wood, I will enter in at the hut of the evil witch of
Kíev.
“Thou, oh evil witch of Kíev, bid thy crow fly over the sea of
Khvalýnsk, to the house of bronze; bid him peck the fiery snake, bid him
gain the seven pud key. She was grim, and she clove to her crow, the
evil witch of Kíev. In my old age I cannot roam to the sea, to the
ocean, to the isle of Buyán, to the Black Crow. Do thou bid, by my
enchanting words, the crow gain me the seven pud key.
“The crow has smitten the house of bronze, has pecked the fiery snake to
death, has gained the seven pud key.
“With that key I will unlock the princely castle, the castle of
Vladímir, I will gain the knightly gear, the trappings of the knights of
Nóvgorod, of the youthful war-men; and in that gear the arquebus cannot
fell me, the shots cannot hit me, the warriors and champions, the hosts
of Tatary and Kazán cannot hurt me.
“I invoke the servant, a man, a fighter, in the host, who goeth to war
with these my potent words.
“My words die down,
My deeds they crown.”
[Kazán was the last stronghold of the Tatars. It was stormed in 1549.]
Buyán is a kind of fairy hill like the Tír n’an óg of the Irish
folk-tales, the land of youth, and cannot probably be assigned to any
physical geography. Most probably the mythical Isle of Buyán is the
reminiscence of the Isle of Rügen. The whole of the Pomeranian coast
from Lübeck to the Memel was, prior to its conquest by the Saxons and
the Brandenburgers, a Slavonic district, and the Isle of Rügen, in
especial, the promontory of Arcona, a seat of the most highly developed
Slavonic pagan ritual: Saxo Grammaticus has conserved us full details.
Considering the intimate association of the mysterious stone Alátyr
(probably meaning amber) with Buyán: and the fact that Buyán is a Slav
translation of the Old Slav name Ruyán, the wind-swept isle [cf. English
rough, German rauh, etc.]; also taken the specific references in the
magic charms in connection with the facts recorded by the Scandinavian
chroniclers, there seems to be little doubt that the Isle of Buyán is a
folk-tale shadow of the old place of Pagan pilgrimage, contaminated, of
course, with other fantastic elements.
Katomá. This is one of the marvellous servants whom fortunate princes
possess in folk-lore. In Russian folk-tales they have magical
attributes, and are often described by their caps, e.g. oaken-cap,
blue-cap, etc.
Koshchéy the Deathless. The meaning of this name is very hard to
determine. There are at least three disparate ideas involved. First of
all the most ancient is that which occurs in the Word of Igor’s
Armament, in which the word Koshchéy is used for a warrior of the
hostile Pólovtsy; and, when Igor is said to be put on a Koshchéy saddle,
it means he is taken into captivity. Hence the word koshchéy came to
be used in Russian as meaning a slave, or a groom, originally a captive
slave from the Pólovtsy who fought the Russians for over two hundred
years. Consequently the word has a meaning in Russian folk-lore which
has a widespread Aryan notion, that of a fearful Enchanter who lives in
a mountain fastness far removed; runs away with the beautiful princess,
and can only be slain by the valiant lover, going through unfordable
streams, impenetrable forests and unpassable mountains, so as to catch
hold of his soul which is contained in a casket, or in some other manner
is always terribly enclosed. He takes this soul, which is as a rule
lastly contained in an egg, up to the Monster’s palace, scrunches it in
his hand, and the monster dies. Thirdly, the word became confused with
kost’, bone, and so came to mean a skeleton or miser, and a wandering
Jew. The epithet ‘deathless’ does not mean indestructible, but that he
can only be slain in an extraordinary manner and will not die in a
natural way.
Kutúzovo. The Kutúzovy are one of the most ancient of Russian
families; this particular village from which they derive their name must
be somewhere on the trade route of the Dniepr.
Kvas. A liquid made from various kinds of flour and fermented with
sour milk to which is added malt or yeast.
Name-day. The day of the patron Saint. In Russia Saints’ days are kept
in place of birthdays.
Na-úm. In this Russian name the two vowels are to be sounded
separately, Na-úm.
Nightingale Robber. His patronymics are Rakhmánovich, Odikhmantovich,
Rakhmánya, all of them very difficult of definition or explanation.
Nightingale Robber. Ilyá Múromet’s conquest of the Nightingale Robber
is his most notable feat. He is a very difficult figure to explain. He
is a gigantic bird who has been explained on the one hand as a highway
robber who was a great bard, for the Russian solovéy (nightingale) is
applied to a minstrel. But it is more probable that there is a confusion
of two other words in this one, and that the word solovéy, which has
come to mean nightingale, is either derived from sláva, meaning fame,
or from the same root as the hostile power whom Ilyá Múromets, in some
of the ballads, fights, namely Solóvnik the Grey One. Be this as it may,
the version which has come down is that the Nightingale Robber was an
enormous bird, whose nest spread over seven oaks, who had needed no
other weapon than his dreadful beast-like, lion-like, or dragon-like
whistle on which every wall and every beast and every man fell down in
sheer terror. The rest of this story may be gathered from the one which
has been selected for this book.
The Pike. The pike plays a peculiar part in Russian folk-lore.
Potán’ka. The name of Potán’ka [in which the ‘n’ and ‘k’ are to be
sounded separately as in pin-case], is also found in the Nóvgorod
ballads where Potán’ka the Lame is one of the boon companions of Vasíli
Busláyevich.
Prískazka. Many of the tales begin with a conventional introduction
which has no relation to the story. Such an instance may be found in
‘The Wolf and the Tailor.’ Also in ‘A Cure for Story-telling.’ And the
tale of ‘The Dun Cow,’ ‘Princess to be Kissed at a Charge,’ etc.
The Realm of Stone. For the episodes in this story of the kingdom
turned to stone there seems strong evidence of adaptation or loan from
the Arabian Nights. Cf. The Tale of the Young King of the Black Islands,
and the Tale of the City of Brass, but the development is very
different.
Sebezh. A city in the Vitebsk Province bordering on Poland.
Shemyák. The judge. Shemyákin Sud, the court of Shemyák, is a
proverbial expression for arbitrary judgments. He was a prince of
Galicia of the time of Vasíli II, 1425–62. He was also a leader of the
unruly nobles of that time. This may be partly the reason that the name
of the family has been given this unfortunate significance.
The Shovel. Shovels are used to insert loaves and pots deep into the
Russian stove, for which use see the long note on the ‘Dream.’
The Sister of the Sun. The Russian commentator in the compilation,
from which these stories are drawn, states that this is the expression
for the dawn.
Sorrow. This picture of Sorrow as an ancient hag who pursues mankind
throughout life is peculiarly Russian and is the theme of very many
beautiful ballads. She is described as a lovely beggar woman, with a
pale face, low stature, and hare’s blood in her veins, and her cheeks of
poppy red, and she entices men to drink their sorrow away in the
public-houses, and is frequently turned into a moral lesson against
over-indulgence. But this particular application of the myth, the
picture of her as a wandering devil who attaches herself to unfortunate
heroes but can be cheated into non-existence, much like the ordinary
devil of folk-lore, is a feature, as has been said, probably peculiar to
Russia.
St. Nicholas. In Russia St. Nicholas is the most popular miracle
worker amongst all the saints. In the story of St. Nicholas and St.
Elias his beneficent character is clearly shown.
In the story of St. Nicholas the Wonder-Worker, I have taken the story
as I found it, and have not attempted to fill up the obvious gaps.
The Sun, and how it was made by Divine Will. This story is of literary
and ancient origin; the language is very antique.
Svyatogór. Svyatogór in this story may be eponymous of geography. The
word standing for svyátyya góry, the sacred mountains. Múrom is an
ancient Russian settlement in the province of Vladímir, by the river
Oka, and the village of Karacharovo is not far off.
As to Svyatogór’s bride, there is another story which tells how he
acquired her. One day Svyatogór was walking on the earth and laid hold
of a wallet which an old man whom he met wandering by held. He could not
lift it however, for it was rooted in the earth. He went on from there
to a smith, something like Wayland Smith (the whole tale has a curious
Norse tang), who forged his fortune, told him he would have to go to the
Kingdom by the Sea, and there he would find his wife who for thirty
years had been lying in the dung. He proceeds to the Kingdom by the Sea,
finds the miserable hut, enters it, and sees the maiden lying in the
dung. And her body was as dark as a pine. So Svyatogór purchases her
freedom by taking out five hundred roubles, laying it on the table, and
then snatching up his sharp sword out of his sheath smote her on her
white breasts and so left her. Then the maiden woke up, and the skin of
age-long filth had been broken; she went and traded with the five
hundred roubles, came to the Holy Mountains, and presented herself there
in all her maiden beauty. Svyatogór the Knight also came to look on her,
fell in love and wooed her for his wife. He then recognised her by the
scar on her white breasts.
The Swan Maiden. This is one of the most baffling figures in Russian
mythology. She corresponds to the Siren of Greece, and the Lorelei of
Germany, but is very distinct in all her characteristics. She is also
called in the Russian Devítsa (maiden), which may be a corruption of
Dívitsa, the feminine of Div, one of the ancient pagan deities of
Russia. Like the Lorelei, she is said to sit on the rocks and draw
sailors down into the depths, but her more human characteristics are
stated in this story.
Thoughtless Word. The devil in this story is the popular myth of the
water-gods or sprites, elsewhere called the vodyanóy or vódyánik.
The point of detail, that after the rescue of the maiden the boy has to
walk backwards until he reaches the high road, is rather similar to the
Celtic notion of Widdershins, the superstition that anyone who walked
round the churchyard contrary to the direction of the sun would be
captured by the fairies.
Túgarin Zmyéyevich. Túgarin Zmyéyevich, the strong man, the Serpent’s
Son.
Vazúza and Vólga. Similar stories are told of other rivers. The old
Russian ballads give names and patronymics to their rivers such as the
people use for themselves, e.g. Dněpr Slovútich Don Iványch.
The Vazúza is a short stream crossing the borders of the provinces of
Tver and Smolensk, meeting a great bend of the Vólga at Zubtsóv (in the
province of Tver).
The Sea of Khvalýnsk is the Caspian, so called from an ancient people
(the Khvalísi) of the eleventh and tenth centuries, who lived at the
mouth of the Vólga in the Caspian. There is also a town called Khvalýnsk
on the Vólga in the province of Sarátov, above the city of Sarátov.
This particular story is probably a poetization of a geographical fact,
but in all the Russian folk-lore the river-gods play a very great part.
Thus Igor in The Word of Igor’s Armament, on the occasion of his defeat,
has a very beautiful colloquy with the Donéts. At least two of the
heroes of the ballad cycle, Don Ivánovich and Sukhán Odikhmántevich, are
in some aspects direct personifications of the rivers, whilst the
river-gods exercise a direct and vital influence over the fortunes of
several others, such as Vasíli Buslávich and Dobrýnya Nikítich.
Many Russian rivers have been rendered almost into human characters. The
ordinary speech is still of Mother Vólga. In the Nóvgorod ballads there
is a mention of Father Volkhov, much as we speak of Father Thames, and
there were very great possibilities of the development of a river
mythology which did not succeed. It is worth observing that in one
ballad dealing with Vasíli Buslávich, the hero of Nóvgorod, this
semi-comic figure is twitted by the men of Nóvgorod that he will one day
turn the Volkhov into Kvas (q.v.): i.e. he will one day set the Thames
on fire. [Rybnikov, I, 336].
The Wood Sprite. Léshi is a peculiar feature in Russian folk-lore.
He is somewhat similar to Pan, but is also represented as having copper
arms, and an iron body, terms which refer to colour rather than to
material. Sometimes he has claws for hands.
Yagá-Búra. This is the same as Bába Yagá, but is specific reference to
the Witch who raises the Wind.
GLOSSARY
Aspen. Always associated with magic. Its trembling leaves give it a
weird appearance.
Bába Yagá. Russian witch, also Yagá-Búra.
Bábushka. The grandmother.
Bárkhat. This word also means velvet.
Bátyushka. Father in a general sense, meaning anybody older. Otéts
is father, meaning the relationship of father and son.
Birds’ milk. The Russian folk-tale expression for asking for the moon.
Boyárs. This may be translated earls, but in the Russian social scale
it only meant the bigger men, the seigneurs.
Boyárynyi. Countesses, feminine plural of boyár.
Chúdo-Yúda. The Old Man of the Sea. This is a very clear loan from the
Homeric Proteus.
Dyádka. Uncle. A term of respect.
Egórushko Zalyót. Means George the Bold Flier.
Fatá. A long silken glove.
Gúsli. A musical instrument, something like a zither with seven
strings.
Iváshko Zapéchnik. Iván, who is always sitting behind the stove.
Iváshechko. A diminutive form of Iván.
Iváshko. A diminutive form of Iván.
Izbá. Hut.
Kaftán. A peasant’s overcoat, made very long.
Khvalýnsk. The old name of the Caspian. Vide Vazúza and Vólga.
Korolévich. King’s son. Koról, king.
Korolévna. King’s wife.
Ksálavy. Mythical birds, the meaning of which is entirely unknown.
Mikháilo Ivánovich. The popular name for the bear.
Mísha Kosolápy. Dmítri, the Bandy-legged.
Morévna. Of the sea.
Nikíta. From the Greek Νικήτης, conquer.
Pope. Village priest.
Pud. A Russian weight. Thirty-six pounds avoirdupois.
Sarafán. A short sleeveless jacket, generally embroidered, worn over
the bodice or the blouse.
Sazhén. A length of seven feet.
Sebézh. A city in the Vítebsk province, bordering on Poland. The Poles
and the Mussulmen are all called infidels, Saracens or Busormany.
Shúba. A fur mantle.
Stárosta. Mayor of a town.
Teléga. A peasant’s cart without springs.
Tsarévich. Tsar’s son.
Tyátya. Daddy.
Tzarévna. Tsar’s wife.
Ukaz. Imperial edict.
Ványa. A diminutive form of Iván.
Vertodúb. The oak-turner, a gigantic figure.
Vertogór. The mountain-turner; a gigantic figure.
Vóron Vóronovich. Crow Crowson.
Zamorýshek. This name is freely translated Benjamin, the last-born son
of an old man.
Footnote 1:
Hut.
Footnote 2:
Hut.
Footnote 3:
The Mayor.
Footnote 4:
Hut.
Footnote 5:
Hut.
Footnote 6:
Ten kopeks.
Footnote 7:
Fur mantle.
Footnote 8:
Grandmother.
Footnote 9:
Another variant, “the Fearsome Swan.”
Footnote 10:
Little Father.
Footnote 11:
Hut.
Footnote 12:
This is a simple instance of the prískazka or preface to a story.
Footnote 13:
A sazhén is seven feet.
Footnote 14:
Benjamin.
Footnote 15:
Father.
Footnote 16:
The Devil in this story is the popular myth of the water-god or
spirit, The Vodyanóy.
Footnote 17:
Countesses.
Footnote 18:
Village priest.
Footnote 19:
Death is feminine in Russian.
Footnote 20:
Ilyá Múromets is one of the heroes of the Byliny: his great feat is
the slaying of the Nightingale Robber. This tale may be eponymous of
geography; Svyatogór (Svyáty Góry, Sacred Mountains) Múrom is on the
river Oka, in the Province of Vladímir, one of the oldest cities in
Russia; the village of Karachárovo is not far off.
Footnote 21:
Affectionate term for old servant, equivalent to uncle.
Footnote 22:
The word means velvet.
Footnote 23:
Hut.
Footnote 24:
Cf. Dante, Inf.
Fitti nel limo dicon; ‘Tristi fummo.
Nel dolce mondo che dal sol s’allegra....
Or c’attristiam’ nella belletta negra.
Footnote 25:
This is a prose version of a bylína: Alyósha Popóvich is one of the
Kíev cycle.
Footnote 26:
The strong man, the Serpent’s son.
Footnote 27:
Hut.
Footnote 28:
Koról’ king: hence princess.
Footnote 29:
I have taken this story as it stands. There are obvious gaps I have
not ventured to fill up.
Footnote 30:
A mythical city, very probably derived from Θύλε.
Footnote 31:
Earls.
Footnote 32:
Diminutive of Iván; so too Ványa.
Footnote 33:
Hut.
Footnote 34:
A bold flier.
Footnote 35:
Bandy-legged.
Footnote 36:
Sitting behind the stove.
Footnote 37:
Ídolishche, i.e. Big idol.
Footnote 38:
Θεόφιλος.
Footnote 39:
An equivalent to the Bába Yagá.
Footnote 40:
Father.
Footnote 41:
Hut.
Footnote 42:
Hut.
Footnote 43:
Hut.
Footnote 44:
Hut.
Footnote 45:
A mock patronymic for the Bull.
Footnote 46:
Hut.
Footnote 47:
v. note to p. 125.
Footnote 48:
A great forest in Central Russia, once impenetrable and always
legendary.
Footnote 49:
Grandmother.
Footnote 50:
Father.
Footnote 51:
Father.
Footnote 52:
Hut.
Footnote 53:
Hut.
Footnote 54:
Hut.
Footnote 55:
Shovels are used to insert loaves and pots deep into the oven.
Footnote 56:
“n” and “k” to be sounded distinct as in pin-case.
Footnote 57:
Uncle: term of affection.
Footnote 58:
Princesses.
Footnote 59:
Earls.
Footnote 60:
Hut.
PRINTED BY
WM. BRENDON AND SON, LTD.
PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
P. 168, changed “And Alyósha set out into the open field. And
Alyósha set out into the open field” to “And Alyósha set out into
the open field”.
Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.
Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together
at the end of the last chapter.
Enclosed italics font in underscores.
Story DNA
Moral
Unchecked desires can lead to undesirable outcomes, and sometimes extreme measures are taken to curb them.
Plot Summary
A porter's wife is so obsessed with stories that she only entertains storytellers, which is expensive for her husband. Determined to cure her, the husband invites a freezing old man to stay, but only if he can tell stories all night without interruption from the wife. The old man agrees and proceeds to tell the same monotonous sentence repeatedly. When the wife finally interrupts, the husband uses it as an excuse to beat her severely, effectively curing her of her love for stories.
Themes
Emotional Arc
annoyance to frustration to triumph (for the husband) / desire to aversion (for the wife)
Writing Style
Narrative Elements
Cultural Context
The story reflects a historical period where domestic violence was not only common but sometimes presented as a justifiable means of control or 'correction' within marriage. The extensive notes and glossary provided in the original text (though omitted here) indicate a rich tradition of Russian folklore and specific cultural references that are not directly present in this short tale itself, but frame its origin.
Plot Beats (11)
- A porter has a wife who loves stories so much she only entertains storytellers, costing him money.
- The husband resolves to cure her of this habit.
- One winter night, a freezing old man arrives, seeking shelter.
- The husband asks if the old man can tell stories, and the old man agrees to tell them all night.
- The husband brings the old man in, telling his wife that the guest will tell stories all night, but she must not interrupt.
- The old man confirms the no-interruption rule, stating he won't speak otherwise.
- After supper, the old man begins a story, repeating the exact same phrase about an owl sipping water from a well, over and over.
- The wife listens for a long time but eventually interrupts, asking what kind of tale it is and calling it mere repetition.
- The old man chastises her for interrupting, reminding her of the condition and claiming it was just the preface.
- The husband, hearing this, leaps up and begins to beat his wife for breaking the rule and preventing the story's end.
- He continues beating her until she despises stories and is cured of her passion.
Characters
The Porter ★ protagonist
None explicitly mentioned, likely a man of common stature and build for his profession.
Attire: None explicitly mentioned, likely simple, durable clothing suitable for a porter in winter, such as a kaftan.
Resourceful, cunning, determined to solve his problem.
Image Prompt & Upload
A teenage protagonist, around sixteen years old, with a determined expression and a resilient posture. He has messy chestnut hair, warm brown eyes, and a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He wears a simple, slightly too-large tunic of rough-spun brown fabric, belted at the waist with a leather cord, patched trousers, and sturdy worn boots. A large, well-used canvas backpack is slung over his shoulders, and he leans slightly on a sturdy walking stick. He stands on a misty forest path at dawn, looking forward with hope. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Porter's Wife ⚔ antagonist
None explicitly mentioned.
Attire: None explicitly mentioned, likely simple, traditional Russian peasant dress.
Passionately fond of stories, demanding, easily bored, eventually despairing.
Image Prompt & Upload
A stern-faced woman in her late 40s with a sharp nose, thin lips, and cold, calculating eyes. Her graying hair is pulled back in a severe, tight bun. She wears a drab, high-collared dress of dark brown wool, cinched with a plain leather belt. Her posture is rigid and upright, her hands clasped tightly before her, conveying an air of disapproval and authority. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
The Old Man (Guest) ◆ supporting
Frozen to atoms upon arrival, suggesting frailty from cold.
Attire: None explicitly mentioned, likely simple, worn peasant clothing, possibly a shuba (fur mantle) for winter.
Resourceful, persistent, clever, willing to endure discomfort for shelter.
Image Prompt & Upload
An elderly man in his late seventies with deep wrinkles and kind, watery blue eyes. He has thin, wispy white hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wears a simple, faded brown wool tunic over dark trousers, and worn leather boots. His posture is slightly stooped, leaning on a gnarled wooden walking stick. He has a gentle, thoughtful expression, looking slightly off-camera as if listening. Plain white background, full body visible head to toe, single figure, no watermark, no text, no signature.
Locations
Porter's Home
A home where a porter lives with his wife, who is passionately fond of stories. It is a place where guests are welcomed if they can tell tales.
Mood: initially welcoming and expectant, later tense and violent
The peasant guest tells his repetitive story, leading to the wife's interruption and subsequent beating.
Image Prompt & Upload
A cozy, humble cottage at twilight, nestled at the edge of an autumn forest. The thatched roof glows warmly under the deepening blue sky, with soft golden light spilling from mullioned windows and a lantern beside the sturdy wooden door. A winding dirt path leads to the welcoming entrance, flanked by pumpkins and a worn wooden bench. Smoke curls gently from the stone chimney, blending with the misty evening air. The surrounding trees are ablaze with fiery orange and red leaves, some drifting onto the mossy ground. A sense of quiet welcome and untold stories hangs in the serene, cool atmosphere. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.
Garden with a Well
A garden containing a well, where an owl repeatedly flies and sips water.
Mood: monotonous, repetitive, mundane
This is the setting of the peasant's endlessly repeated story, which serves as a 'preface' to a tale that is never fully told.
Image Prompt & Upload
Twilight descends upon an ancient, walled garden. A moss-covered stone well, its dark mouth ringed with damp ferns, sits at the center. Soft, ethereal light from the setting sun filters through gnarled apple trees, casting long, gentle shadows. The air is still and humid, glowing with the faint light of early fireflies. Around the well, moonflowers begin to unfurl, their pale petals luminous against the deepening blue of dusk. Dew glistens on thick ivy that climbs the crumbling garden walls. The scene is serene, magical, and hushed, awaiting the night. no border, no frame, no watermark, no text, no signature, edge-to-edge illustration.