University of Virginia Library

GREAT RUSSIAN STORIES.

HERE I have but little to remark that has not already
been noticed by Mr. Ralston. In No. 33 I have
given a pretty variant of Grimm's `Fisherman's Wife.' In
this story, which is from the Government of Moscow, there
is a curious confusion between `king' (korol), and `emperor'
(tzar). The peasant asks to be made karol `king,' but is
answered that an `emperor' (tzar) is chosen by God. The
King of Poland was formerly the mighty potentate west of
Moscow, which emerged from Tartar bondage under a
grand-duke, or grand-prince. This confusion may possibly
imply that the story was crystallized in its present form not
long after the assumption of the imperial dignity by the
ruler of Muscovy.

As to No. 34, Mr. Ralston, in his `Songs of the Russian
People,' gives an account of the manner in which Ilya of
Murom obtained a vast accession of strength from the still
mightier hero Svyatozor (pp. 58-63). By his exploits, however,
in the story which I have given, Ilya appears to have
already possessed strength enough for most purposes.

XXXIII.—THE LIME-TREE.

One evening Vanyusha (Johnny) was sitting with his grandfather,
and asked his grandfather: `Whence comes it that
bears' paws are like our hands and feet?' His grandfather
replied: `Listen, Johnny. I will tell you what I have
myself heard from ancient people. Ancient people said

bears were like human beings, like us orthodox Christians.
In a certain village there lived a poor cottager. His cottage
was wretched; he had no pony; a cow he never even
thought of; he had no firewood. Winter came, and it was
cold in his unwarmed room. The cottager took his axe,
and went with it into the wood. An enchanted tree—a
lime-tree—presented itself to his sight. He struck it with
his axe, and now to cut it down; but the lime-tree addressed
him in human speech: "I will give you all that you want.
If you have no riches, if you have no wife, I will give you
all." The peasant said: "Very good, mother, if you make
me richer than any of the peasants. But I have no pony,
no cow, and my cottage is wretched." The lime-tree said:
"Go home; all shall be yours." The peasant went. A new
house was his: fences of stout boards, horses that were
ready to fly, and store-rooms full of corn. The cottager was
not satisfied, because his wife was not handsomer. What
was to be done? "I'll go off quick to Mother Lime-tree."
He took his axe, and went off into the wood.

`He went into the wood to the lime-tree, and struck it
with his axe. "What do you want?" "Mother Lime-tree,
among mankind there are wives and wives, but mine is such
a disagreeable one. Do me a service: give me a handsome
wife." The lime-tree said: "Go home." The peasant went.
His wife came to meet him—such a beauty—blood and
milk, and store-rooms full of everything good. Well, the
cottager began to live comfortably with his young wife, and
thought: "It is a fine thing for us to live possessed of
riches, but we're under a superior authority. Is it impossible
for me to be the superior authority myself?" He
thought it over with his wife. He went again to the enchanted
lime-tree.

`He went into the wood, he struck it with his axe. "What
do you want, peasant?" "What, indeed, Mother Lime-tree!
It's a fine thing for us to live in possession of riches; but

we're under a superior authority. Is it impossible for me to
be head-borough myself?" "Very well: go home; all shall
be yours." No sooner had the cottager got home, when a
letter came for him—"The cottager was to be head-borough."
The cottager got used to living as head-borough, and
thought to himself: "It's a fine thing to be head-borough,
but all is under the control of the lord of the manor. Is it
impossible for me to be the lord myself?" He considered
the matter with his wife, they consulted together, and he
went off again to the lime-tree.

`He went up to it, and struck it with his axe. The tree
asked him: "What do you want?" "Thanks to you, mother,
for all; but how not to doff my cap before the lord, to
become the lord myself?" "What is to be done with you?
Go home; it shall all be yours." Scarcely had he got home,
when up drove the lord-lieutenant, and brought him a letter
from the king, that "he was to be a gentleman." It was
advantageous to be a gentleman. He began to give entertainments
and banquets. "It's a fine thing to be a gentleman,
but without an official position! Was it impossible for
him to become an official?" They thought and talked
it over. He went off to the lime-tree and struck it
with his axe. "What do you want, peasant?" "I thank
you, mother, for all; but is it impossible for me to be an
official?" "Well, then, go home!" No sooner had he got
home, when a royal letter arrived—he was invested with
orders. "It's a fine thing to be decorated, but all is under
the control of the lord-lieutenant. Is it impossible for me to be
lord-lieutenant myself?" He thought it over with his wife,
went off into the wood to the enchanted tree, the lime-tree.

`He came to the lime-tree and struck it with his axe. It
said: "What do you want, peasant? With what are you
discontented?" "I thank you, mother, for everything; but
is it impossible for me to be lord-lieutenant myself, and to
have a rich patrimony?" "It is difficult to effect this. But

what is to be done with you? Go home!" The cottager
had scarcely got home, when a letter arrived—the cottager
was to be lord-lieutenant, and was presented with an estate
of inheritance. The cottager became used to living as lord-lieutenant—indeed,
by descent, he was not a peasant. "It's
a fine thing for me to live as lord-lieutenant, but all is under
the control of the king." He considered; he went off into
the wood to the enchanted tree, the lime-tree.

`He came to it, and struck it with his axe. The tree
inquired: "What do you want?" "All is excellent; I
thank you for all; but is it impossible for me to be king
myself?' The lime-tree began to try to persuade him.
"Foolish man, for what are you asking? Consider what
you were, and what you have become. From a cottager you
have become a man of high rank and everything; but an
emperor[4] is chosen by God." The lime-tree endeavoured
to persuade him with all manner of arguments that he had
better not make the request, but all in vain. The cottager
would not budge, but insisted that it should make him
emperor. The lime-tree said to him: "It is impossible to
effect this, and it will not be done; you will lose, too, what
you have already obtained!" But the cottager still insisted.
The lime-tree said: "Become a bear, and your wife a she-bear!"
And he became a bear, and she a she-bear. They
went off bears.'

The grandson inquired: `Grandfather, can this be a true
story?' `In reality 'tis a fable. Do not desire what is impossible;
be content with a little. If you desire much, you
will lose what you have obtained.'

XXXIV.—ILYA OF MUROM AND NIGHTINGALE THE
ROBBER.

In the famous city of Murom, in the village of Karatcharof,
lived a peasant, Ivan Timofeewitch. He had an

only child, Ilya Murometz. He sat as children do for
thirty years, and when thirty years had passed, he began to
walk firmly on his feet, became conscious of vast strength,
made himself a warrior's equipment and a steel spear, and
saddled a good horse, worthy of a hero. He went to his
father and mother, and begged their blessing. `My
honoured father and mother, let me go to the famous city
of Kief to perform my devotions to God, and to kneel to the
Prince of Kief.' His father and mother gave him their
blessing, laid upon him serious injunctions, and spoke to
this effect: `Ride straight to the city of Kief, straight to the
city of Chernigof, and on your road do no injury, shed no
Christian blood causelessly.' Ivan Murometz received the
blessing of his father and mother, prayed to God, took
leave of his father and mother, and started on his journey.

He travelled far on into the gloomy forest, until he came
to a robbers' camp. The robbers espied Ilya Murometz,
and their robber hearts burned for his heroic horse, and
they began to talk together about taking his horse from him,
for they were not wont to see such horses anywhere, and
now an unknown man was riding on so good a horse.
And they arose to assail Ilya Murometz by tens and twenties.
Ilya Murometz halted his heroic horse, and took out of his
quiver an arrow of guelder-rosewood, and placed it on his
tough bow. He shot the arrow of guelder-rosewood along
the ground, and it penetrated to the distance of a fathom
slanting. Seeing this, the robbers were terrified, collected
into an orb, fell on their knees, and said: `You are our lord
and father, valiant and good youth! We are guilty before
you; take for such a fault as ours as much as you please of
coloured raiment and herds of horses.' Ilya smiled and
said: `I've nowhere to put it; but if you wish to live, don't
venture any further!' and rode on his way to the famous city
of Kief.

He rode on to the city of Chernigof, and under that city

of Chernigof were standing armies of heathen innumerable,
and they were besieging the city of Chernigof, and wanted
to destroy it and ravage the churches of God therein, and
to take into captivity the Prince and Duke of Chernigof
himself. Ilya Murometz was terrified at this great force;
nevertheless, he committed himself to the Lord God, his
Creator, and determined to risk his head for the Christian
faith. Ilya Murometz began to slaughter the heathen forces
with his steel spear, and defeated all the pagan power, and
took captive the heathen prince, and led him into the city
of Chernigof. The citizens came out of the city of
Chernigof to meet him with honour; the Prince and Duke
of Chernigof came himself. They received the good youth
with honour, and gave thanks to the Lord God, because the
Lord unexpectedly sent deliverance to the city, and caused
them not all to perish in vain at the hands of such a heathen
host. They received him into their houses, made him a
great entertainment, and let him proceed on his journey.

Ilya Murometz rode off towards the city of Kief by the
direct road from Chernigof, which had been beset for full
thirty years by Nightingale the robber, who allowed neither
horseman nor foot-traveller to pass, and slew them not by
any weapon, but by his robber whistling. Out rode Ilya
Murometz into the open country, and espied the tracks of
horses, and rode on upon them, and arrived at the Branskian
forest, at the muddy swamps, at the bridges of guelder-rosewood,
and at the river Smorodinka. Nightingale the
robber forboded his end and a great misfortune, and before
Ilya Murometz approached within twenty versts, began to
whistle vigorously with his robber whistling; but the hero's
heart was not terrified. Then, before he approached within
ten versts, he began to whistle still more violently, and from
this whistling Ilya Murometz's horse tottered under him.
Ilya Murometz rode up to the nest itself, which was constructed
upon twelve oaks. Nightingale the robber espied

the hero of Holy Russia, whistled with all his might, and
wanted to smite Ilya Murometz to death.

Ilya Murometz took down his tough bow, placed on it an
arrow of guelder-rosewood, shot it at Nightingale's nest,
struck his right eye and knocked it out. Nightingale the
robber tumbled down like a sack of oats. Ilya Murometz
took Nightingale the robber, bound him fast to his steel
stirrup, and rode on towards the famous city of Kief. On
the way stood a mansion belonging to Nightingale the
robber, and when Ilya Murometz came opposite the
robber's mansion, the windows thereof were open, and at
these windows the robber's three daughters were looking
out. The youngest daughter saw him, and cried to her
sisters: `There's our father outside coming with booty, and
leading to us a man bound to his steel stirrup.' But the
eldest daughter looked, and began to weep bitterly. `That
isn't our father coming: it's an unknown man coming,
and leading our father.' They began to scream to their
husbands: `Our dear husbands! ride and meet the man,
and take our father from him; do not let our family be put
to such contempt.' Their husbands, strong heroes, rode
against the hero of Holy Russia; their horses were good,
their spears were sharp, and they were about to receive Ilya
on their spears. Nightingale the robber espied this, and
said to them: `My dear sons-in-law, do not cause yourselves
to be put to shame, and do not provoke so mighty a hero;
rather with humility entreat him to drink a cup of green
wine in my house.' At the request of the sons-in-law, Ilya
turned into the house, not knowing their villainy. The
eldest daughter raised on chains an iron slab, which was
placed over the door, in order to crush him. But Ilya
observed her at the door, struck her with his spear, and
smote her to death.

When Ilya Murometz arrived at Kief city, he rode straight
to the prince's palace, and entered the house, which was of

white stone, prayed to God, and knelt to the prince. The
Prince of Kief asked him: `Tell me, good youth, how men
name you, and of what city you are a native?' Ilya
Murometz made reply: `My lord, men call me Little Ilya,
but by my father's family I am an Ivanof; a native of the
city of Murom, of the village of Karatcharof.' The prince
inquired: `By what road did you ride from Murom?' `By
that of Chernigof, and under the walls of Chernigof I
defeated an innumerable heathen host, and delivered the
city of Chernigof. Thence I proceeded by the direct road,
and took captive the mighty hero, Nightingale the robber,
and led him hither with me bound to my steel stirrup.'
The prince, becoming angry, said: `What a lie you are
telling!' When the heroes, Alesha Popovitch and Dobrynya
Nikititch, heard this, they flew to look, and assured the
prince that it really was so. The prince ordered a cup of
green wine to be brought to the good youth. The prince
had a wish to listen to the robber's whistling. Ilya enveloped
the prince and princess in a sable mantle, placed
them beneath his arms, summoned Nightingale, and commanded
him to give the Nightingale whistle with half
strength. But Nightingale the robber whistled with his full
robber whistle, and deafened the heroes, so that they fell on
the floor. For this Ilya Murometz slew him.

Ilya Murometz made a brotherhood with Dobrynya Nikititch.
They saddled their good steeds, and rode into the
open country to seek adventures; and they rode full three
months without finding any adversary. But they rode on in
the open country; there came a wandering beggar: the
ragged dress upon his back weighed fifty poods, his hat
nine poods, his staff was ten fathoms long. Ilya Murometz
began to urge his horse toward him, and was about to
match his heroic strength with him. The wandering beggar
recognised Ilya Murometz, and said: `Oh! you are Ilya
Murometz. If you remember, we learnt to read and write

together at one school, and now you are urging your horse
against a poor cripple like me, as against an enemy. But
this you don't know, that in the famous city of Kief a great
misfortune has happened. An infidel, a mighty hero, the
unclean Idolishtcha, has arrived. His head is as big as a
beer caldron, his shoulders are a fathom broad, the distance
between his eyebrows is a span, that between his ears is an
arrow of guelder-rosewood; he eats an ox at a time, and
drinks a caldron at a draught; and the Prince of Kief is
very grieved about you, because you have left him in such
perplexity.' Clothing himself in the beggar's dress, Ilya
Murometz went straight to the prince's court, and cried with
heroic voice: `Oh, is it you, Prince of Kief? Send me an
alms, wandering beggar that I am.' The prince saw him,
and spake as follows: `Come into the palace to me, beggar;
I will give you your fill of food and drink, and gold for your
journey.' And the beggar entered the palace and stood by
the stove; he looked on at what was occurring. Idolishtcha
asked for something to eat. They brought him a whole
ox roasted, and he ate it up, bones and all. Idolishtcha
asked for something to drink. They brought him a caldron
of beer, carried by twenty men; he took it up by the
handles, and drank it all up. Ilya Murometz said: `My
father had a greedy mare; she over-ate herself and died.'
Idolishtcha didn't stand that, and said: `Oh, it's you,
wandering beggar! Why do you insult me? It's nothing
to me to take you up in my hands. Nay, what are you?
If such an one as Ilya Murometz was among you, I'd make
a fight of it even with him.' `Then here's such an one as
he,' said Ilya Murometz, and, taking off his hat, struck him
gently on the head with it.—But he broke through the wall
of the house, took the corpse of Idolishtcha, and threw it
out by the rent. For this the prince honoured Ilya
Murometz with great commendations, and placed him on
the list of mighty heroes.