by Jane Yolen
Such is the origin of the saying “Between Hannah and Bannah, vanished are our beards.”
THE OLD MAN AND HIS GRANDSON
Germany
There was once a very old man, whose eyes had become dim, his ears dull of hearing, his knees trembled, and when he sat at table he could hardly hold the spoon, and spilled the broth upon the tablecloth or let it run out of his mouth. His son and his son’s wife were disgusted at this, so the old grandfather at last had to sit in the corner behind the stove, and they gave him his food in an earthenware bowl, and not even enough of it. And he used to look towards the table with his eyes full of tears. Once, too, his trembling hands could not hold the bowl, and it fell to the ground and broke. The young wife scolded him, but he said nothing and only sighed. Then they bought him a wooden bowl for a few halfpence, out of which he had to eat.
They were once sitting thus when the little grandson of four years old began to gather together some bits of wood upon the ground. “What are you doing there?” asked the father. “I am making a little trough,” answered the child, “for Father and Mother to eat out of when I am big.”
The man and his wife looked at each other for a while, and presently began to cry. Then they took the old grandfather to the table, and henceforth always let him eat with them, and likewise said nothing if he did spill a little of anything.
HALF A BLANKET
Ireland
This son was married and he had a young son himself in the cradle, and the old grandfather, the son’s father, was knocking about, not much good then for anything, only eating and smoking. So the son of the old fellow said the old man would have to go; leave—that was the word: take the broad road for it.
Well, his own son, the child was in the cradle. And the wife was pleading with her husband for to give the old man a chance but he wouldn’t listen. So she pleaded with her husband to give the old fellow a blanket when he was ready to go.
“Give him a whole blanket,” says she.
The son was for giving him half a blanket but he says, “All right. I’ll give a whole blanket.”
“Do no such’n a thing,” says the child in the cradle. “Give him only half a blanket and keep the other half safely by. For I’ll need it when I have to give it to you when it’s my turn to put you out to the world.”
That was from the child that couldn’t talk. So the old fellow was let stay, he wouldn’t get leave then to go at all, when the son heard what his own child had in store for himself.
Love stories in folklore tend to be stark. The audience is told that there is a great love between the man and the woman: “When he entered and saw the maiden he lost consciousness. But he revived and fell in love.” The fact of love is simply stated. It is the consequences of that love that are explored in folktales.
In the literary tradition the reasons for love or passion are detailed. In folklore only the simplest and most artless reasons are offered. Sometimes it is physical: “This was a maiden of indescribable beauty.” Sometimes it is recalled action: “But of them all, the bravest and most gallant was a Mr. Fox.” Sometimes it is the homely virtues that are extolled: “She is quiet and chaste as a dove.” But the reasons are never long nor is there usually any development beyond the statement.
In this section fifteen different kinds of love stories appear. Some are tales of magical wooings, as in “The Little Old Woman with Five Cows.” Some are stories of long-delayed weddings, as in the Chinese “The Waiting Maid’s Parrot.” Some are replete with terrifying suitors, as in the Bluebeard variant “Mr. Fox.” A few have to do with animal brides or bridegrooms: a cat or a toad. The tales in which a man or woman falls in love with or marries someone from the faerie world often end unhappily. The human partner is left with a longing that no one else can satisfy, and the ache is palpable to the story listener.
No section on true loves can be complete without a few stories about husbands and wives faithful even after death, though more stories about this phenomenon—and the Orphic motif of the underworld search—can also be found in the final two sections of the book, “Ghosts and Revenants” and “Death and the World’s End.”
HOW MEN AND WOMEN GOT TOGETHER
American Indian (Blood-Piegan)
Old Man had made the world and everything on it. He had done everything well, except that he had put the men in one place and the women in another, quite a distance away. So they lived separately for a while.
Men and women did everything in exactly the same way. Both had buffalo jumps—steep cliffs over which they chased buffalo herds so that the animals fell to their death at the foot of the cliff. Then both the men and the women butchered the dead animals. This meat was their only food; they had not yet discovered other things that were good to eat.
After a while the men learned how to make bows and arrows. The women learned how to tan buffalo hides and make tipis and beautiful robes decorated with porcupine quills.
One day Old Man said to himself, “I think I did everything well, but I made one bad mistake, putting women and men in different places. There’s no joy or pleasure in that. Men and women are different from each other, and these different things must be made to unite so that there will be more people. I must make men mate with women. I will put some pleasure, some good feeling into it; otherwise the men won’t be keen to do what is necessary. I myself must set an example.”
Old Man went over to where the women were living. He traveled for four days and four nights before he saw the women in their camp. He was hiding behind some trees, watching. He said to himself, “Ho, what a good life they’re having! They have these fine tipis made of tanned buffalo hide, while we men have only brush shelters or raw, stinking, green hides to cover us. And look what fine clothes they wear, while we have to go around with a few pelts around our loins! Really, I made a mistake putting the women so far away from us. They must live with us and make fine tents and beautiful clothes for us also. I’ll go back and ask the other men how they feel about this.”
So Old Man went back to his camp and told the men what he had seen. When they heard about all the useful and beautiful things the women had, the men said, “Let’s go over there and get together with these different human beings.”
“It’s not only those things that are worth having,” said Old Man. “There’s something else—a very pleasurable thing I plan on creating.”
Now, while this was going on in the men’s camp, the chief of the women’s village had discovered the tracks Old Man had made while prowling around. She sent a young woman to follow them and report back. The young woman arrived near the men’s camp, hid herself, and watched for a short while. Then she hurried back to the women as fast as she could and told everybody, “There’s a camp over there with human beings living in it. They seem different from us, taller and stronger. Oh, sisters, these beings live very well, better than us. They have a thing shooting sharp sticks, and with these they kill many kinds of game—food that we don’t have. They are never hungry.”
When they heard this, all the women said, “How we wish that these strange human beings would come here and kill all kinds of food for us!” When the women were finishing their meeting, the men were already over the hill toward them. The women looked at the men and saw how shabbily dressed they were, with just a little bit of rawhide around their loins. They looked at the men’s matted hair, smelled the strong smell coming from their unwashed bodies. They looked at their dirty skin. They said to each other, “These beings called men don’t know how to live. They have no proper clothes. They’re dirty; they smell. We don’t want people like these.” The woman chief hurled a rock at Old Man, shouting “Go away!” Then all the women threw rocks and shouted “Go away!”
Old Man said, “It was no mistake putting these creatures far away from us. Women are dangerous. I shouldn’t have created them.” Then Old Man and all the men went back to their own place.
After the men left, the woman chief had second thoughts. “These poor men,” sh
e said, “they don’t know any better, but we could teach them. We could make clothes for them. Instead of shaming them, maybe we could get them to come back if we dress as poorly as they do, just with a piece of hide or fur around our waist.
And in the men’s camp, Old Man said, “Maybe we should try to meet these women creatures once more. Yes, we should give it another chance. See what I did on the sly.” He opened his traveling bundle in which he kept his jerk meat and other supplies, and out of it took a resplendent white buckskin outfit. “I managed to steal this when those women weren’t looking. It’s too small for me, but I’ll add on a little buffalo hide here and a little bear fur there, and put a shield over here, where it doesn’t come together over my belly. And I’ll make myself a feather headdress and paint my face. Then maybe this woman chief will look at me with new eyes. Let me go alone to speak with the women creatures first. You stay back a little and hide until I have straightened things out.”
So Old Man dressed up as best he could. He even purified himself in a sweat bath which he thought up for this purpose. He looked at his reflection in the lake waters and exclaimed, “Oh, how beautiful I am! I never knew I was that good-looking! Now that woman chief will surely like me.”
Then Old Man led the way back to the women’s camp. There was one woman on the lookout, and even though the men were staying back in hiding, she saw them coming. Then she spotted Old Man standing alone on a hilltop overlooking the camp. She hurried to tell the woman chief, who was butchering with most of the other women at the buffalo jump. For this job they wore their poorest outfits: just pieces of rawhide with a hole for the head, or maybe only a strap of rawhide around the waist. What little they had on was stiff with blood and reeked of freshly slaughtered carcasses. Even their faces and hands were streaked with blood.
“We’ll meet these men just as we are,” said the woman chief. “They will appreciate our being dressed like them.”
So the woman chief went up to the hill on which Old Man was standing, and the other women followed her. When he saw the woman chief standing there in her butchering clothes, her flint skinning knife still in her hand, her hair matted and unkempt, he exclaimed, “Hah! Hrumph! This woman chief is ugly. She’s dressed in rags covered with blood. She stinks. I want nothing to do with a creature like this. And those other women are just like her. No, I made no mistake putting these beings far away from us men!” And having said this, he turned around and went back the way he had come, with all his men following him.
“It seems we can’t do anything right,” said the woman chief. “Whatever it is, those male beings misunderstand it. But I still think we should unite with them. I think they have something we haven’t got, and we have something they haven’t got, and these things must come together. We’ll try one last time to get them to understand us. Let’s make ourselves beautiful.”
The women went into the river and bathed. They washed and combed their hair, braided it, and attached hair strings of bone pipes and shell beads. They put on their finest robes of well-tanned, dazzling white doeskin covered with wonderful designs of porcupine quills more colorful than the rainbow. They placed bone and shell chokers around their necks and shell bracelets around their wrists. On their feet they put full quilled moccasins. Finally the women painted their cheeks with sacred red face paint. Thus wonderfully decked out, they started on their journey to the men’s camp.
In the village of male creatures, Old Man was cross and ill-humored. Nothing pleased him. Nothing he ate tasted good. He slept fitfully. He got angry over nothing. And so it was with all the men. “I don’t know what’s the matter,” said Old Man. “I wish women were beautiful instead of ugly, sweet-smelling instead of malodorous, good-tempered instead of coming at us with stones or bloody knives in their hands.”
“We wish it too,” said all the other men.
Then a lookout came running, telling Old Man, “The women beings are marching over here to our camp. Probably they’re coming to kill us. Quick everybody, get your bows and arrows!”
“No, wait!” said Old Man. “Quick! Go to the river. Clean yourselves. Anoint and rub your bodies with fat. Arrange your hair pleasingly. Smoke yourselves up with cedar. Put on your best fur garments. Paint your faces with sacred red paint. Put bright feathers on your heads.” Old Man himself dressed in the quilled robe stolen from the women’s camp which he had made into a war shirt. He wore his great chief’s headdress. He put on his necklace of bear claws. Thus arrayed, the men assembled at the entrance of their camp, awaiting the women’s coming.
The women came. They were singing. Their white quilled robes dazzled the men’s eyes. Their bodies were fragrant with the good smell of sweet grass. Their cheeks shone with sacred red face paint.
Old Man exclaimed, “Why, these women beings are beautiful! They delight my eyes! Their singing is wonderfully pleasing to my ears. Their bodies are sweet-smelling and alluring!”
“They make our hearts leap,” said the other men.
“I’ll go talk to their woman chief,” said Old Man. “I’ll fix things up with her.”
The woman chief in the meantime remarked to the other women, “Why, these men beings are really not as uncouth as we thought. Their rawness is a sort of strength. The sight of their arm muscles pleases my eyes, the sound of their deep voices thrills my ears. They are not altogether bad, these men.”
Old Man went up to the woman chief and said, “Let’s you and I go someplace and talk.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” answered the woman chief. They went someplace. The woman chief looked at Old Man and liked what she saw. Old Man looked at the woman chief and his heart pounded with joy. “Let’s try one thing that has never been tried before,” he said to the woman chief.
“I always like to try out new, useful things,” she answered.
“Maybe one should lie down, trying this,” said Old Man.
“Maybe one should,” agreed the woman chief. They lay down.
After a while Old Man said, “This is surely the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. I couldn’t ever imagine such a wonderful thing.”
“And I,” said the woman chief, “I never dreamed I could feel so good. This is much better, even, than eating buffalo tongues. It’s too good to be properly described.”
“Let’s go and tell the others about it,” said Old Man.
When Old Man and the woman chief got back to the camp, they found nobody there. All the male creatures and the women beings had already paired off and gone someplace, each pair to their own spot. They didn’t need to be told about this new thing; they had already found out.
When the men and women came back from wherever they had gone, they were smiling. Their eyes were smiling. Their mouths were smiling, their whole bodies were smiling, so it seemed.
Then the women moved in with the men. They brought all their things, all their skills to the men’s village. Then the women quilled and tanned for the men. Then the men hunted for the women. Then there was love. Then there was happiness. Then there was marriage. Then there were children.
THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN WITH FIVE COWS
Siberia (Yakut)
One morning a little old woman got up and went to the field containing her five cows. She took from the earth a herb with five sprouts and, without breaking either root or branch, carried it home and wrapped it in a blanket and placed it on her pillow. Then she went out again and sat down to milk her cows. Suddenly she heard tambourine bells jingle and scissors fall, on account of which noise she upset the milk. Having run home and looked, she found that the plant was uninjured. Again she issued forth to milk the cows, and again thought she heard the tambourine bells jingle and scissors fall, and once more she spilled her milk.
Returning to the house, she looked into the bedchamber. There sat a maiden with eyes of chalcedony and lips of dark stone, with a face of light-colored stone and with eyebrows like two dark sables stretching their forefeet toward each other. Her body was visible through her dress; he
r bones were visible through her body; her nerves spreading this way and that, like mercury, were visible through her bones. The plant had become this maiden of indescribable beauty.
Soon afterwards Kharjit-Bergen, son of the meritorious Khan Khara, went into the dark forest. He saw a grey squirrel sitting on a curved twig, near the house of the little old woman with five cows, and he began to shoot, but as the light was bad, for the sun was already setting, he did not at once succeed in his purpose. At this time one of his arrows fell into the chimney. “Old woman! take the arrow and bring it me!” he cried, but received no answer. His cheeks and forehead grew flushed and he became angry; a wave of arrogance sprang from the back of his neck, and he rushed into the house.
When he entered and saw the maiden, he lost consciousness. But he revived and fell in love. Then he went out and, jumping on his horse, raced home at full gallop. “Parents!” said he, “there is such a beautiful maiden at the house of a little old woman with five cows! Get hold of this maiden and give her to me!”
The father sent nine servants on horseback, and they galloped at full speed ot the hosue of the little old woman with five cows. All the servants became unconscious when they beheld the maiden’s beauty. However, they recovered, and all went away except the best one of them. “Little old woman!” said he, “give this girl to the son of the meritorious Khan Khara!” “I will give her,” was the answer. They spoke to the maiden. “I will go,” she announced. “Now, as the bridegroom’s wedding gift,” said the old woman, “drive up cattle, and fill my open fields with horses and horned stock!” Immediately the request was uttered and before the agreement was concluded, the man gave an order to collect and drive up the animals as the bridegroom’s gift. “Take the maiden and depart!” said the old woman, when the stock of horses and cattle had been given as arranged. The maiden was quickly adorned, and a finely speckled horse that spoke like a human being was led up to her skillfully. They put on it a silver halter, saddled it with a silver saddle, which was placed over an upper silver saddle cloth and a lower silver saddle cloth, and they attached a little silver whip. Then the son-in-law led the bride from the mother’s side by the whip, mounted his horse, and took the bride home.