Cornish Folktales: The Ghost of Rosewarne

The following is a retelling of a Cornish folktale called the Ghost of Rosewarne  from  Popular Romances of the West of England collected and edited by Robert Hunt.

The Rosewarne Estate

When the De Rosewarnes ran into financial difficulties their own financial advisor, Ezekiel Grosse, gentleman and lawyer, stepped in buying the estate for a pittance. Supposedly, he wanted to save their dignity, but got himself a very good bargain in the process.  Maybe the De Rosewarnes were unlucky, but the feeling was they were more than a little naive as there was more than a hint that Ezekiel, as their financial adviser was less than honest in dealing with the transactions of their estate and it all seemed fall so neatly for him.

Nevertheless, as soon as the Rosewarnes moved out he moved in but he did not find things entirely to his liking.   At night he heard strange noises in some of the rooms and would rush in to see what was there, but there was always nothing to be seen. Sometimes he heard voices talking in the corridor but there was never anyone there. One night as he lay in bed just, as he was dozing off, he heard footsteps approach his bed. Terrified he pulled the covers over his head but he could still hear people whispering to each other. A cold and unearthly atmosphere pervaded the whole house and most people would have fled in terror, but Ezekiel was determined he would not be chased from his ill-gotten estate by fear of the supernatural.

The Ghost

One evening after dusk as he walked in his garden looking at the fullness of the moon he encountered a very old and worn man who approached him but faded into nothing and was gone in an instant.  This happened several times and always in the garden just after dusk. Ezekiel would simply ignore the apparition to begin with but as its appearances increased it also began appearing in the house and became annoying and irritating to him.

One night as Ezekiel was working late in his office the specter appeared and approached him making strange hand signals.  Startled and annoyed. Ezekiel jumped from his seat and confronted the ghost.

“What in the name of God do you want of me!”  he demanded.

“Ezekiel Grosse, I have come to show you where the Rosewarne gold is hidden.  Are you interested?” replied the ghost.

Few people who have walked the Earth have a greater interest in gold than Ezekiel Grosse, yet even he trembled in fear as he faced the ghost listening to its eerie voice.  He looked longingly at the dreadful specter desperately wanting to know the secret of the Rosewarne treasure, but hardly daring to breathe let alone speak.

The ghost stared at him through baleful eyes making Exekiel quail and then lifting a bony finger beckoned him to follow.  Through his fear, Ezekiel was rooted to the spot and could not move, even though he desperately wanted to follow.

“Come, Ezekiel Grosse,” beckoned the specter again, but Ezekiel was paralyzed.

“Gold, silver, jewels, the Rosewarne treasure, come Ezekiel, come!”  whispered the ghost.

“Where, where!” gasped Ezekiel.

“Follow and you will see the treasure of the De Rosewarnes!” but despite his lust Ezekiel was paralyzed with fear and could not move.

“Follow me, I command thee!” shrieked the ghost.

Ezekiel felt his legs move but it was not by his power but that of the ghost and he followed the specter from the house and into the grounds of the house and beyond.

The ghost led him on through the night until they reached a small dell in a distant part of the Rosewarne estate.  In the center of the dell a small cairn had been built using granite boulders and here the ghost stopped, pointed to the stones and said,

“Ezekiel Grosse I know your lust for gold for I too once had it.  I won more gold than you can imagine and it is all buried here underneath these stones.  

Ezekiel Grosse  if you would win this gold  you will glitter with the evil ones of this world and when you are at your happiest then I will visit you again.”

With that,  the ghost disappeared before the fearful, unbelieving eyes of Ezekiel Grosse who stood trembling in a strange mixture of fear and gold lust and the latter won.

“Devil or ghost , I will have the gold” he vowed, but as he spoke an eerie laugh echoed all around him.

Buried Treasure

Ezekiel returned to Rosewarne where he reflected upon all that had happened.  He decided that at the earliest possible opportunity he could go about the task unseen and pry up the stones and dig underneath.

Biding his time, but bubbling with restrained excitement, he waited a few days and then at dusk went down to the cairn carrying a large crow bar and began levering the stones up.   With this done .he dug up the soil where they had lain. The soil was soft and he soon struck something metallic but the dark was coming down fast and he could barely see. Nevertheless working by touch he cleared the soil and feeling around realized it was an urn of some kind but it was now too dark to see and he had not brought a light. He decided he would carefully recover it, replace the stones and make it look as if it had not been disturbed.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself and trying hard to suppress his excitement he waited for two more nights to pass before he returned to the cairn.  This time he was better prepared and quickly moved the stones and dug down to find the urn by the light of lamp he had brought with him. He soon uncovered the urn and found it bigger than he had thought and made of bronze and when he looked inside he saw it was full to the top with gold coins.   He tried to lift it out of the hole but it was far too heavy. Instead he filled his pockets with as many coins as he could and then reburied the urn intending to return for the rest the following night.

Returning home to Rosewarne he acted as calm and as nonchalant as he could so as not to cause his servants suspicion.  He returned to the cairn the following night and the night after that to bring back the rest of the gold pieces. He was so careful and secretive no one not even his servants had any hint of what he was up to.  Indeed, the only noticeable difference that up to yet could be discerned from his activities was that the ghost had ceased to appear and trouble him from the second he had shown the location of the treasure to Ezekiel.

Birds of a Feather

It was with great surprise that the neighbors and nearby gentry looked on in bemusement as Ezekiel spent lavishly of his secret treasure.  He made improvements to Rosewarne and filled it with expensive furniture and fittings and began to develop the estate. He even brought himself fine clothes and gave up practicing law making a great show of his new found wealth to his neighbors and associates.

Of course, people being people are attracted to wealth even though he was well known as a person of dubious, greedy and sly character. They say birds of a feather flock together and it proved to be the case at Rosewarne where a flock of gentrified scoundrels gathered around Ezekiel Grosse.  Thanks to his money he became something of a celebrity in the locality and people would speak admiringly of his long struggle as a lawyer to make it big, forgetting about all the cheating he had employed in the past.

For his part Ezekiel lived up to the part of the gentleman landowner to the full.  He even preached the value of honesty and integrity to his fawning flock and in return received the admiration that is so often given to one who is fabulously rich beyond compare.

All his old tricks and dishonesty were forgotten. and he spent lavishly on entertaining his flock.  These entertainments grew increasingly more seductive to those who counted themselves fortunate enough to be among his inner circle of friends. The Lord of Rosewarne, became the Lord of the West who everyone bowed low to – one of the chosen few – who owned more of riches of the Earth than they could ever possibly use, yet still lusted after more.

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve arrived and Ezekiel gathered together his flock at Rosewarne for a very special evening he had prepare.  Their host was relishing being the center of their attention and in the kitchen his servants were all working hard for his pleasure and emulating their superiors in their attitude.  Everything was going splendidly and the guests were thoroughly enjoying themselves.  Ezekiel looked on and saw the influence his wealth had and he was well pleased.

As he reflected upon his pleasure and power the atmosphere in his hall began to grow cold and everyone stopped dancing and shivered as if someone has walked over their graves.  The light became strange and they looked in each other’s faces and saw a deathly paleness and in their eyes the cloud of death.

In the middle of the hall amid the dancers a strange old man appeared with an angry demeanor.  No one saw where he came from – he was not there and then he was. The guests moved back from the specter and made a path from him to Ezekiel.  The old man stared at Ezekiel in cold, stony, silence. Ezekiel stood transfixed to the spot in terror as the terrible apparition pointed at him.  Although it was only for a minute it seemed like an age and then it was gone.

Ezekiel, freed from his paralysis and in an effort to show he was unafraid let out a roar of mocking laughter saying,

“Ha! How do you like my little Christmas play?   Scared you all didn’t it? Ha, you look like terrified rabbits!  Butler pass around the mulled wine. Come, my friends, dance on, be very merry! It was nought but a little play to entertain you all!”

His guests were deeply disconcerted with the appearance of the old man and try as he might Ezekiel couldn’t rouse them to dance, or laughter.  An overpowering atmosphere of unhomeliness remained that made everyone feel uncomfortable. One by one, they made their excuses, bid him him a false Merry Christmas and left well and truly satisfied that all was not well at Rosewarne.

Turning Point

His Christmas Eve party was a turning point in the fortunes and popularity of Ezekiel Grosse.  He put on an air of nonchalance and gaiety as if the incident had never happened but his friends had not forgotten and were convinced of its reality.   He organized more parties and balls but each and every time the same aged old man would appear silently out of nowhere in their midst and staring coldly, point at him.  He never said a word but the sheer aura of power he exuded made everyone dare not to utter a single word, or indeed, hardly breathe.

Ezekiel would make up all manner of lies  to explain the incidents. He would claim the old man was an old friend with a mental impairment that he had represented as a lawyer, who was also deaf and dumb. As he tried to explain, the old man would stand before him, point at him and laugh maniacally and joyfully in his face and then vanish leaving an extremely unpleasant atmosphere of unhomeliness.

His friends made excuses and left despite the earliness of the night and refused to attend his lavish events.  They began to avoid and shun him leaving him all alone. Whereas once he had been the center of their attention, now he was alone despite all of the finery of Rosewarne and his great wealth.  The only friend that remained to him was a man named John Call who was his faithful clerk.

The oppressive  presence of the specter increased more and more and was so strong it did not just remain in the house but followed him outside of it.  Everywhere he went the old man appeared at his side and although he could see it others saw nothing but nevertheless felt its presence.

Shunned

Ezekiel went from being the most sought after and finest gentleman in the county to being completely shunned and avoided by the gentry.   He grew pale and miserable and walked with a drooping back. He became the very personification of misery and being in terror all the time, jumped in alarm at the slightest thing.

Eventually, he began to beg his spectral companion to leave him alone.  To begin with the ghost would not listen seeming content to watch him suffer.   At last the ghost told him that he would set him free on the condition that Ezekiel hand the entire Rosewarne estate and his treasure to the person that he selected and that a proper legal contract would be drawn up to make the deal binding.    Ezekiel readily agreed but when the ghost indicated that it was John Call who would be the benefactor, he began to try to twist and get out of the contract.  The ghost would not allow him to get away with it and shortly the deal was done and John Call became the master of the Rosewarne estate and its treasure.

The Revenge of the De Rosewarnes

After Ezekiel had been legally dispossessed of the estate and treasure the ghost revealed that he was an ancestor of the Rosewarnes and it had been he who had built their fortune.  When he had been a young man he had traveled much and traded in foreign lands and accumulated much wealth, but the lust for gold had got the better of him. Instead of passing it on to his family he had hidden it before he died intending no one else to benefit.

Now he had been sent back to atone for his greed and to punish Ezekiel for fraudulently obtaining the Rosewarne estate and putting its rightful owners into poverty.  The punishment had consisted of the systematic gratifying of his greed, the pampering of his pride until he reached the highest point in society and then causing him to be shunned and avoided.  His status was systematically destroyed making a pitiful exhibition of him for all to see and the estate taken from him and given to a more deserving man.

Ezekiel did not live much longer in misery after that.   He was found dead and it was said that it was a violent death with reports of deep scratches and dark bruising all over his body.  Some even say the specter of Rosewarne was seen leading a group of demons that came and bore away the soul of Ezekiel Grosse. They heard him laugh all through that night having revenged his family and righted a wrong, though whether this freed the soul of the Ghost of Rosewarne from his own doom, we do not know.

© 05/12/2018 zteve t evans

Reference, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright December 5th, 2018 zteve t evans

Sacred TextsPopular Romances of the West of England collected and edited by Robert Hunt

 

 

 

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Vancouver Legends: The Lost Island

 

Legends of Vancouver

Emily Pauline Johnson, also known as Tekahionwake, was a Canadian poet and performer.  Her father was a hereditary Mohawk chief of mixed ancestry, while her mother was an English immigrant.  In 1911, she published a collection of legends and folktales told to her by Chief Joe Capilano, based on the stories and traditions of his people.  She called the collection, “Legends of Vancouver,”  and published under the name E. Pauline Johnson.  In her Author’s Foreword she says,

“These legends (with two or three exceptions) were told to me personally by my honored friend, the late Chief Joe Capilano, of Vancouver, whom I had the privilege of first meeting in London in 1906, when he visited England and was received at Buckingham Palace by their Majesties King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra.

To the fact that I was able to greet Chief Capilano in the Chinook tongue, while we were both many thousands of miles from home, I owe the friendship and the confidence which he so freely gave me when I came to reside on the Pacific coast. These legends he told me from time to time, just as the mood possessed him, and he frequently remarked that they had never been revealed to any other English-speaking person save myself.”

Chief Joe Capilano, was also known as, Su-á-pu-luck, a leader of the Squamish people, indigenous to southwestern British Columbia, Canada.   Presented here is a retelling of one of those folktales called The Island. 

The Island

Su-á-pu-luck spoke saying, “Tekahionwake, our people have lost much over the years.  Our lands are gone, our hunting grounds and our game.  Our religion, language, legends and culture that our ancestors taught us from the beginning are forsaken and forgotten. Many young people do not know them today.

These things are gone and can never return.  The world has turned. Although we may seek them out in the hidden places; the high mountains, the dark forests or the concealed valleys of the world we will not find them.  They are gone forever like the island of the North Arm. Once it was there and now it is gone. Maybe it is somewhere near, but we just cannot see it. Although we paddle our canoes in the sea around the coast we’ll never again find the channel, or the inlet, that  leads to the past days of our people and the lost island.”

Tekahionwake  replied, “You know well there are many islands on the North Arm and many channels and inlets.”

“Yes, but none of  these are the island that our people have sought for many, many years,” Su-á-pu-luck told her sadly shaking his head.

“Perhaps it was never there,” she suggested.

Sighing and shaking his head he said,

“Once it was there.  Both my grandfathers saw it and their fathers saw it.  My father never saw it and neither did I. My father spent many years searching for it.  He searched all the sounds along the coast north and south, but he never found it. In my youth I sought it for many days.  At night I would take my canoe and paddle in the stillness of night. Twice, long ago, I saw its shadow. I saw the shadow of it high cliffs and rocky shores and the shadows of tall pines crowning its mountain summit as I paddled my canoe up the arm one summer night.  The shadow of the island fell across the water, across my canoe, across my face and across my eyes and entered into my head and has stayed. Then, I looked. I turned my canoe around and around and looked but it was gone. There was nothing but the water and the moon reflecting on it, and no, it was not a moon shadow, or a trick of the moon, “  

“Why do you keep searching for it?”  asked Tekahionwake, perhaps thinking of all of the dreams and hopes in her own life she could never attain.

“You see the island has something I want. I shall never stop searching!” he replied and fell silent.  She said nothing because she knew he was thinking and would tell her  a legend from the old days. At last, Su-á-pu-luck spoke,

“I tell you, Tekahionwake, long before the great city of Vancouver appeared when it was but a dream of our god Sagalie Tyee,  before the new people had thought of it, only one medicine man knew that there would be a great camp of new people between False Creek and the inlet.  The dream had come to him from Sagalie Tyee and it had haunted him ever since. When he was among his people laughing and feasting it was there. When he was on his own in the wilds singing his strange songs and beating upon his drum it was there in his mind. Even when enacting the sacred rituals that cured the sick and the dying, it was there.  The dream came to him again and again.

I tell you, Tekahionwake, it stayed with him following him through life wherever he went and he grew old and the dream stayed.   Always he heard the voices that had spoken to him in the days of his youth. They told him, ‘ There will come many, many, people who have crossed the sea and crossed the land. They will be as the leaves in the forest and they will built a great camp between the two strips of salt water.  Their arrival will bring the end of the great war dances. The end of wars with other people. The end of courage, the end of confidence. Our people will be dispossessed of our ways, of our tradition, of our land and who we are. Our people will learn the ways of the newcomers and our ways will be forgotten and we will no longer know ourselves.’

I knew the old man hated the words – hated the dream.  He was the strongest man, the most potent medicine man on the North Pacific Coast but even he could not stop it,  could not defeat it.

I tell you, Tekahionwake, he was a tall man, strong and mighty.  His endurance was like Leloo the timber wolf.  He did not need to eat for many days and could kill the mountain lion with his bare hands.  He could wrestle and defeat the grizzly bear. He could paddle his canoe through the wildest sea and the strongest wind riding upon the crest of the highest waves.

No warrior could stand against him, he could defeat whole tribes.  He had the strength and courage of a giant and feared nothing on land, sea, sky or in the forest, he was completely fearless.  The only thing he could not defeat – could not kill – was the dream of the coming of the newcomers. It haunted him! It was the only thing in life he had faced that he could not defeat.

I tell you, Tekahionwake, It obsessed him.  The obsession drove him from the village.  He left his people, the dancing, the story telling, he left his home village by the water’s edge where the salmon gathered and the deer quenched their thirst.  Chanting wild, wild songs he climbed through the trailess forest to the summit that the newcomers call Grouse Mountain.

On top of the world on Grouse Mountain he ate nothing and drank no water and fasted for days.  He chanted his medicine songs day and night. Below him, beneath the mountain, lay the strip of land between the two salt waters and in that high place  the Sagalie Tyee – the god of our people – gave him the gift of seeing into the future. As he looked out from the mountain over the strip of land his eyes saw across one hundred years.  

He looked over what is called the inlet and saw great lodges built close together in straight lines.  Some were tall and vast being built of wood and stone. He saw the strait trails the newcomers made between the lodges and saw crowds of newcomers swarming up and down them.  

He saw the great canoes of the newcomers and how they moved without paddles.  He saw the trading posts of the newcomers and how they multiplied. He saw the never ending stream of newcomers pouring steadily on to the strip of land and watched as they multiplied among themselves.  

gambierislandsilhouette

By Kyle Pearce from Vancouver, Canada (Gambier’s Distinct Shape) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

At last the vision faded and he saw the world in his own time and was afraid.  He called out to the Sagalie Tyee, ‘I have not much longer on this earth. Soon I shall meet my ancestors in the place prepared.  I pray to you not to let my strength and endurance die. I pray to you not to let my courage and fearlessness die. I pray to you not to let my wisdom and knowledge die.  Take them, keep them safe for my people that they may be strong and wise enough to endure the rule of the newcomers and remember who they are. Take these things from me and hide them where the newcomers cannot find them, but where someone from my people one day will.’

Finishing his prayer he went down from the top  of Grouse Mountain singing his songs of power to where he kept his canoe.  Launching it he paddled far up the North Arm, through the colors of the setting sun and long into the night.  At last he came to an island surrounded by high grey cliffs, where a mountain soared in its center crowned with pine trees.  As he drew near he could feel all of his courage, his bravery, his fearlessness and his great strength float from him as wisps of mist that wrapped themselves around the high cliffs and mountain shrouding the island from view.

With all his strength gone he barely managed to paddle back to the village.  When he arrived he called the people together and told them they must search for ‘The island’  where they would find all of his strength and courage still alive forever to help them with their dealings with the newcomers.  That night he drifted into sleep and in the morning he did not wake up.

Ever since our men, young and old, have sought for the island.  Somewhere, in some lost channel, some hidden inlet along the coast, it awaits us but we cannot find it.  The great medicine man told them one day we will find it and when we do we will get back his power along with all his strength, all his courage, all of the wisdom of our forefathers, because such things do not die but live on through our children and grandchildren and their children.”

His voice quivered and ceased and her heart went out to him as she thought of all of the of courage and strength he possessed. She said,

“Su-á-pu-luck, you say the shadow of this island has fallen upon you!”

“That is true, Tekahionwake,” he answered mournfully, “but only the shadow!”

© 31/10/2018 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright October 31st, 2018 zteve t evans

 

Breton Fairy Tales: The Secret of the Resurrection of La Rose

The Magic Rose

Breton fairy tales are often a mixture of Roman Catholic, Celtic and other pagan elements that blend together providing  mystery and romance with more than a hint of danger and darkness. The story presented here is a retelling of a Breton folktale called The Magic Rose from Legends and Romance of Brittany by Lewis Spence (1) and tells the rather sombre tale of the transition through life of its protagonist, La Rose.  In many ways it appears to be a traditional fairy tale and like many fairy tales it is not quite what it seems for there is a hidden secret.

La Rose

The story begins in Brittany where an aging married couple had two sons.  The older son had a more adventurous and outgoing personality and went off to Paris to find his fortune.   The younger son, whose name was La Rose, had a more cautious and shy personality and remained at home,  preferring to live with his parents much to their discontent. His mother and father were beginning to feel their age and began to worry about their son.  They wanted him to take a wife to ease the burden on them.

To begin with he would not listen to their appeals but eventually he gave in and found a young woman he loved greatly and they married.  To begin with all was well but after few months sadly his wife fell sick and died. La Rose was heartbroken and every evening he would visit the cemetery and weep beside her grave into the night.

The Spectre and the Magic Rose

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Image by PublicDomainPicturesPixabay – CC0 Creative Commons

One evening while he knelt at his wife’s grave he became aware of a tall dark spectral figure standing before him as he wept.  Looking up in shock at the ghastly figure which pointed at him and said in a rasping voice, “Tell me!  Why do you weep?”

“I weep for my dead wife!” answered La Rose.

“Would you have her alive again?” asked the spectre.

“Indeed, I would!  I would do anything to have her back again!”

“Then listen now!” said the spectre, “Come back to this place tomorrow at the same time. Bring a pick-axe and some clothes for your wife and you may see your heart’s desire.”  With that the dark spectre dissolved into the night.

The next evening at the same time La Rose went to his wife’s grave at the cemetery with a pick-axe and clothes, just as the spectre had said and knelt and wept over her grave.  As he wept he became aware of the dark spectre looking down at him. “Strike the grave with the pick-axe and you will see the earth peal aside to reveal the body of your wife wrapped in her shroud,”  said the spectre.

He then handed La Rose a small silver casket saying, “This contains a rose.  When your wife is free of earth pass this under her nose three times.  She will then awaken as if from a long and deep slumber.”

La Rose watched in awe as the spectre dissolved into the night.  Quickly he struck the pick-axe into his wife’s grave and immediately the earth peeled back and revealed her lying in her shroud.  Following the spectre’s instructions he took the rose from the silver casket and passed it under her nose three times. Just as the spectre had told him and to his astonishment and absolute joy, his wife sighed, sat up and said, “Why I seem to have had such a long deep sleep!”

La Rose gave his wife the clothes he had brought and she quickly dressed and they returned home.  His parents were overjoyed to see their daughter-in-law whole and well again.

The Passing of his Parents

His father was not a well man and he had reached a great age and sadly he fell ill and passed away.  His mother was heart broken. She too was of a great age and the grief of her husband’s passing was too much for her and she too expired.  La Rose wrote to his brother informing him of the sad news and requesting him to return home to receive his share of the family inheritance.  Unfortunately his brother wrote back saying he could not return to Brittany but would give no reason. Reluctantly, La Rose decided to travel to Paris to sort out the family affairs with his brother.

Broken promises

His wife did not want him to go and he was reluctant to leave but feeling he had no choice he told her he must go and promised that he would write to her everyday.  When he arrived he found his brother to be seriously ill and in need of intensive nursing which he delivered himself day and night. Because of the seriousness and intensity of this he forgot to write to his wife as he had promised and she had no news whatsoever of events in Paris and his brother’s health.

Days passed and weeks turned into months and still La Rose forgot to write to his wife. All this time she remained in Brittany worrying and fretting. She had no idea what could be wrong and she dreaded that some courier should appear on her doorstep with bad news.  Every day she took to sitting by her window weeping while looking out hoping to either see him coming down the road, or the dreaded sight of a courier.

The False Captain

It so happened that a regiment of soldiers were posted to the town and the captain was lodged in the inn directly over the road from the home of La Rose and his wife.  The captain was a handsome young man whose curiosity was aroused by the sight of a woman weeping through the window. He was saddened and intrigued by the sight of such a beautiful woman in such grief and set about to learn more about her.  The more he learned and the more he saw her weeping in the window the more he desired her.

Learning about her husband’s absence in Paris he wrote a letter falsely informing her that her husband had died and had it delivered by courier to her.  On reading it she was grief stricken. In this vulnerable state the captain wasted no time in insinuating himself into her affections. After an appropriate period of mourning he proposed marriage to her and she accepted.  The wedding went ahead and they became man and wife. Shortly after the regiment was sent to another town and she accompanied her new husband there.

La Rose Returns

Shortly, after her marriage, the brother of La Rose recovered from his life threatening illness.  Now being free of the burden of providing his nursing care La Rose remembered his wife and his promise to her.  At last, able to complete his family business with his brother he rushed back to Brittany eager to see his wife again.  Can you imagine the shock he had when he discovered the door of his home locked and barred and the house empty? He went to see his neighbours who told him about how his wife had grieved for him.  They told him of how a courier had arrived with a letter informing her of his death and her subsequent marriage to the captain. La Rose was devastated and spent many days moping and weeping for his wife. Eventually he pulled himself together and resolved to go after her and so enlisted in the same regiment as the false captain in the hope it would place him near to her.

The Regiment

He was a talented scribe and soon the quality and finesse of his handwriting brought him to the attention of one of the lieutenants who made him his secretary.  Although he had hoped to catch a glimpse of his wife he was yet to do so to his disappointment. Then one day the captain who had married his wife visited the lieutenant on regiment business.   He noticed the quality of the handwriting of La Rose who was working at his desk and asked if he could borrow him for a few days to help him with paperwork and correspondence.

A False Accusation

It so happened that while assisting the false captain he saw his wife but she did not recognise him at all.  La Rose of course knew her and now he knew who her new husband was. Nevertheless, he refused to let it show and kept his identity from them.  The captain was delighted with the service La Rose had given and as a reward invited him to dine with him and his wife one evening.

The false captain had a servant who was dishonest and had stolen a silver dish.  Fearing the theft was about to be discovered he secreted the dish into one of La Rose’s pockets.  When the silver dish was missed the servant then accused La Rose who was searched and the stolen item found.   Although La Rose protested his innocence he was court marshaled and sentenced to be shot and taken to prison to await his execution.

Père La Chique

As you will understand La Rose was feeling miserable and despondent at the way of the world.  An old veteran of the regiment named Père La Chique would bring him his meals and seemed friendly and kindly towards him.  This cheered and encouraged La Rose greatly and he made friends with him. One day, knowing his execution would be soon he said to La Chique,  “Père, my friend I have two thousand francs that I am sure you could use to the good.  If you will promise to do something for me when I am gone you can have them!”

Père was a man who liked his liquor and was always short of money so he readily agreed.  La Rose reached into his pocket and pulled out the little silver casket that the spectre had given him so long ago.  Handing it to Père he said, “After I have been shot and they have buried me bring a pick-axe and strike it in the ground over my grave.  The earth will peel back and you will see me lying there in my burial shroud, dead. Pass the rose under my nose three times and I will wake as if I have been in a very deep slumber.  Make sure you bring me some clothes to wear.”

Père agreed and took the money and the rose.  Soon after La Rose was taken out and shot. Père now with a pocketful of money set about his favorite pastime in style.  He went from one inn to another drinking and merrymaking with his friends. Now and then he remembered his promise to La Rose but only for a short time.  However, after a few more drinks he either forgot again, or thought to himself that La Rose was surely better off dead than suffering the grief and weariness of the world and carried on with his drinking.

Of course with so much money in his pocket many of his old friends appeared and he found himself surrounded by new ones whom he spent his money on.  When all of the money was gone they all disappeared and left him to reflect on his behaviour. Feeling ashamed he again remembered his promise to La Rose.

Resurrection

Finding himself a pick-axe and some clothes for his dead friend he went to the cemetery to carry out his promise.  Striking the earth with the pickaxe the earth peeled back, just as he had been told. When he looked in the grave and saw his dead friend wrapped in his shroud his nerve failed him and he ran off.  After a stiff drink he summoned the courage to return. Taking the rose from the silver casket he passed it under the nose of La Rose three times. La Rose sat up and yawned as if he had been in a deep slumber just like he said he would.  Hastily, he took the casket and the rose back and dressed himself and the two of them left the cemetery.

After his resurrection, without money and no roof over his head, La Rose was obliged to look for ways to earn a living.  He took many menial, low-paid jobs to make ends meet and one day while wandering the streets looking for work he heard the beating of a drum.  He followed it to the town square where the Town Crier stood on the steps of the town hall about to make an announcement.

The Crier told the crowd that had gathered that the King was looking for men to act as guards for three nights  at the local chapel and was prepared to pay handsomely for suitable recruits. Naturally, this piqued the attention of La Rose thinking it sounded too good to be true.  Indeed it was for the Crier went on to explain that the King’s daughter had been transformed into some kind of terrible monster and was imprisoned there.

Nevertheless, La Rose was desperate and decided he would apply, which he did and was accepted.  The captain of the guard then warned him that all those who had guarded the chapel between eleven o’clock in the evening and midnight had never been seen again and no trace of them had ever been found.  Naturally, La Rose was dismayed and thought about quitting the post but decided he would give it a try anyway as life to him at this time seemed not worth living.

The First Night

The guard duties were duly allotted to the new recruits and it fell to La Rose that he take the third turn at guarding the chapel.  The first guard went on duty on the first night and was never found in the morning. On the second night it was the same with the second guard.  The third night came and La Rose fearfully took up his post in the sentry box at the chapel. As time wore on he could feel fear creeping up on him and again he thought of running.  He was about to do so when terrible voice called him by his name. He froze to the spot as the voice cried, “La Rose! La Rose! Where in the world are you now, La Rose?”

“Who is it that is calling my name?” answered La Rose trembling .

“Listen to me carefully and you will come to no harm!  Very soon the most terrible beast will leap out of the chapel and it will look to kill you.  At the stroke of eleven place your musket against the sentry box and climb on top of the box and the beast will not harm you.”

When he heard the chapel clock strike eleven he placed his musket against the sentry box and climbed on top.  Just as he had done so he heard a terrible howling and the most fearsome beast leapt out of the chapel with flames issuing from its mouth and nostrils, crying, “Sentry, sentry, sentry, where are you, sentry? I will devour you when I find you!”  

As it cried out it seized the musket in its teeth and tore it into a thousand pieces and then vanished.  La Rose looked down from the top of the sentry box terrified. When the beast had gone he climbed down to look at the crumbled remains of his musket.

He was the only sentinel who had ever survived one night guarding the chapel.  When the news was given to the king he was delighted and full of hope. He knew that to break the spell that held his daughter the same sentry must survive three consecutive nights at the chapel between the eleven and twelve o’clock at night.

The Second Night

The next night La Rose took up his station at the chapel equipped with a new musket.  Time passed and again he heard the same voice he had heard the night before. This time it told him to place his musket against the door of the chapel and hide behind the sentry box.  La Rose did exactly as he was told. At the stroke of eleven the beast leapt screaming from the chapel and grabbed his musket and bit it into thousands of pieces and then quickly returned to the chapel leaving him unharmed.

The Third Night

The third night came and once again La Rose heard the voice.  This time it told him that when the beast issued from the chapel he should run to the back of the building.  There he would see a leaden tomb which he should hide behind. Behind the tomb he would find a small bottle.   When the beast came for him he was to throw the contents of this over the head of the beast.

When the clock struck eleven he heard the dreadful scream of the beast as it burst through the chapel door.  Standing to one side La Rose waited until it was clear of the doorway then darted behind it through the door and ran to the back of the chapel.  Just as the voice had advised him he found a leaden tomb which he hid behind and behind the tomb he found a small bottle and pulled out its stopper.

The beast quickly turned and gave chase and was about to leap over the tomb when La Rose stood up to face it and threw the contents of the bottle over its head.  The beast howled horribly and thrashed and writhed on the floor. The chapel shook but eventually everything calmed down and stood before him was the most beautiful princess.

The King’s Daughter

La Rose then took the princess to the Old King who was delighted to have his daughter back.  He was so grateful that he begged him to marry his daughter which La Rose was also pleased to agree to.  So La Rose married the Old King’s daughter and a little while later the Old King decided he would retire and abdicated making his son-in-law the new King.

The New King

It came to pass that one day as the new king it was his duty to inspect the regiments of his army.  As he inspected the regiment that he had served in he found it was the false captain standing at the head of the lines of  soldiers who were all stood to attention in his honour. As he inspected the lines of soldiers he told the Colonel that he thought someone was missing. The Colonel admitted that there was indeed one man missing but told him that the missing man was an old veteran who really was not much use for anything.  It was thought he lowered the tone of the regiment so he had been left behind to clean the barracks. La Rose told the Colonel that he would like to see him and Père La Chique was brought before him trembling. He then ordered the false captain to step forward and ripped the epaulettes from his shoulders and placed them on the shoulders of Père La Chique making him the new captain.

Then he ordered that a great fire was to be set around two stakes.  Then he ordered the false Captain and his wife who he deemed had so easily forgotten him to be tied to the stakes and they were burned alive together. Perhaps this may seem a rather harsh treatment for his first wife who La Rose had once loved, resurrected and then forgot about and indeed, maybe it was, but it is not what it seems.  Nevertheless, La Rose as the King and together with his Queen, lived a long and happy life thereafter.

The Secret

You see the thing about the world of  fairy tales is that there maybe magic and there may be love but the world inside the tale grotesquely mirrors the world outside which also has magic and love.  It also has pain and grief and injustice and somehow we all have to deal with what the world gives us, face our demons and rise again, which is also mirrored in the folktale, but that is not the secret. You see, only the reader can find that and it is a powerful secret to know once it is understood.

© 23/10/2018 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright October 23rd, 2018 zteve t evans

(1)  CHAPTER VI: BRETON FOLK-TALES – The Magic Rose – Legends and Romances of Brittany – by Lewis Spence – [1917]

Azorean Folktales: The Gift of Fruitful Words

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By Prianxi [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, from Wikimedia Commons

The following is a retelling of a folktale from the Azores from The Islands of Magic, by Elsie Spicer Eells called The Silent Cavalier – The Story of the Peach Tree.

The Silent Cavalier – The Story of the Peach Tree

There was once a young Flemish cavalier of the order of St. George of Borgonha, by the name of Jesus Maria.  One day he was told by an old wise monk that his destiny was inextricably linked to the sea saying, “The name your were given when you were baptised is Iesvs Maria, but if those letters are transposed they say in Latin, Maris es via.”

The young cavalier thought a lot about this.  When he heard that a new group of islands called the Azores had been discovered and people were being sought to sail over the sea and settle on them he decided he would join them.  Therefore, he boarded a ship that was bound for one of the new islands called Fayal.

When he arrived he soon fell in love with the rugged, rocky coastline and the ravine where a stream of gurgling water ran through.  He was inspired by the ancient crater lake and the view across the sea to where the snowy peak of Mount Pico sat in majestic serenity on the island opposite his.  For these reasons he thought himself very lucky because he saw the island as his destined home.

Love

When he had arrived on the island he had found there were already some Portuguese settlers there and in one family there was a beautiful daughter named Ida.  In the eyes of the young cavalier she was the fairest maiden that had ever lived and he fell head over heels in love with her.

Sadly, this posed a problem that he could not see an answer to.  To be a cavalier of the order of St. George of Borgonha required each member to give a solemn vow of chastity and remain unmarried for life.  Jesus Maria, despite his love for Ida, could not break these solemn vows and yet he could not keep from his mind her pretty face and sparkling eyes, or the feelings they induced.  With breaking heart he decided that the best thing for him to do was leave the island he loved and return to his homeland of Flanders. Thinking back he recalled how at the words of the wise monk he had set off across the sea and how he had come to the island and made it his home and how happy he had once been and decided he could not return to Flanders either.

Mount Pico

Dismayed and unhappy and not knowing what to do he gazed around in despair until his eyes fell upon the snow-clad peak of Mount Pico across the sea on the opposite island.  He admired its majestic, silent dignity and stillness and he gained strength from it and said to himself, “I will be like the mountain silent, strong and magnificent in my dignity. From this moment on I will not speak another word to another soul and then I will not be tempted to break my vows and tell Ida of my love for her. “  

Ida never knew the special place he kept in his heart for her.  As the days went by the young cavalier found it harder and harder not to speak. Whenever he saw her he wanted to pour out his feelings to her.  At last feeling he could not go on like this much longer he decided he would make his home on the main island just over the sea so that he would no longer be tempted.

Therefore, he packed his few belongings into a little boat and sailed across to the island of Pico.  At the foot of the beautiful, silent mountain he built himself a small cabin and there he lived never returning to the island of Fayal and never again setting eyes upon his secret love, Ida.   He never again spoke a word to anyone, but the people called him the good hermit of Pico.

The Gift of Fruitful Words

Nobody ever knew his secret and when he died a peach tree grew from his grave – the symbol of silence.  The leaf of the peach tree is shaped like a human tongue and inside the fruit is the heart shaped stone.  Inside this stone is the seed which planted in the ground will produce a new tree and it is said,

“Words which bear fruit, spring from the heart and it is in silence we learn the gift of fruitful words.”

© 26/09/2018 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright September 26th, 2018 zteve t evans

Brazilian Folktales: Domingo’s Cat

 

Magical Animal Helpers and Tricksters

Humans have always had a long and beneficial association with animals and animal helpers appear in many fairy tales from around the world.  Sometimes they are tricksters as in this story and sometimes they are teachers or guides that take the hero through difficult situations and very often they are magical.  Presented below is a retelling of a Brazilian fairy tale from Tales of Giants from Brazil, by Elsie Spicer Eells, illustrated by Helen M. Barton, called Domingo’s Cat and has much in common with Charles Perrault’s “The Master Cat, or Puss in Boots, from the 17th century.”

The Story of Domingo’s Cat

The story begins with a man named Domingo who fell upon hard times and had to sell everything he owned just to buy enough food to keep from starving.   After all his possessions had finally been sold he had nothing left in the world except his cat which he loved dearly.  He vowed that come what may he would never sell his cat and that he would rather starve before he let any harm come to it. As it sat upon his lap he told it,  “Have no fear my only friend, I will never let you go or let harm come to you, I will die of starvation first.”

The cat rubbed its head against him and replied, “My good master Domingo, while you have me I will never let you starve.  I am going to go out into the wide world and find both our fortunes. You must put your trust in me.”

Treasure for the King

With that Domingo’s cat jumped down from his master’s lap and ran off into the jungle.  Presently, he stopped and began digging a hole in the ground with his fore paws. He dug furiously throwing up the earth all around and mixed in with the earth were many silver pieces. He gathered some of these up and took them home and gave them to Domingo to buy food.  Then he went back to the jungle collecting the remaining silver pieces and took them to the king.

The next day the cat went out into the jungle and began digging more holes  and this time mixed in with the dirt were pieces of gold. He gathered these up and took them to the king who again was very pleaded with it.   The following day the cat went out into the jungle and again began digging a hole but this time the earth was mixed with many shiny diamonds which he took along to the king.  Again, the king was surprised and very happy with the cat and asked him where he was getting all these riches from.

“It is not me, it is Domingo my master,”  replied the cat.

The Wedding

The king was very impressed and thought that Domingo must be very rich.  Indeed, he thought he must probably be richest man in all his kingdom and therefore just the man to marry his beautiful daughter whom he had been looking for a suitable husband for. Therefore, he suggested to the cat that his master may like to marry her. The cat took the news back to Domingo who agreed he would like to marry the king’s daughter but pointed out that he did not have any clothes anywhere near fine enough to wear to a wedding let alone as the bridegroom to the king’s daughter.

“Don’t worry about that or anything else,”  the cat told him, ” I will take care of everything and make all the necessary arrangements.  Just leave it all to me.” 

The Wedding Suit

The cat ran back to the king and said,  “Your Majesty, I have bad news.  A terrible fire broke out in the tailor’s shop where my master, Domingo was having his wedding suit made and the tailor and his assistants were all burnt to death.  Now everything in the shop is nothing but ashes including Domingo’s wedding suit. I wonder if perhaps you could find him something suitable for such a grand wedding from your own wardrobe.”

The king readily agreed and himself chose the finest clothes and sent them with a servant to Domingo.   After Domingo had put the clothes on he looked very smart and perfectly dressed for such an important wedding but he realized there was a problem.

“I look very fine but I have no splendid palace to take my wife home to after we are married,”  he told his cat.

“Leave it to me,” said his cat, “I will see to it at once.”   and ran off into the jungle until he came to a huge and magnificent castle where a great giant lived.  He banged on the door until the giant came and answered it and then said, “Great giant, will you lend your castle to my master Domingo, please, just for a while?”

The giant snorted and shouted angrily “What me lend my castle to that pauper Domingo? Certainly not!  Go away!”

“I will not go away and I will have your castle,” said the cat and in the blinking of an eye changed the giant into a mouse and pounced upon it and ate it.

The Giant’s Castle

The giant’s  castle was indeed very wonderful and had a beautiful and stately palace. There were rooms marvelously decorated with wonderful words of art and adorned with gold, silver, diamonds, emeralds and rubies and much, much more.  Outside the palace, inside the castle walls, was a beautiful garden filled with wonderful flowers and singing birds and it was indeed a most fitting place for Domingo to bring his new bride home to.

After the wedding a stately carriage took Domingo and his wife to the caste and when they arrived they saw his cat sitting in the window watching for them, but that was the last they ever saw of him because he disappeared into the jungle to look for another kind, penniless master to make rich.  Maybe one day he may find you and then – well, who knows?

© 22/8/2018 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright August 22nd, 2018 zteve t evans

Azorean Folktales: Peter of the Pigs

This article was first published in Enchanted Conversation Magazine titled Peter of the Pigs on 2nd August 2018, written by zteve t evans.  Big thanks to Leigh W. Smith for her encouragement.

PETER OF THE PIGS

The story of a sharp lad who met someone sharper…
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There was once a very sharp and very clever boy name Peter whose job was looking after the pigs of his master and because of this he was known by all the local people as Peter-of-the-pigs. One day he was visited by a man who asked him to sell him seven pigs.  Peter being very sharp and very clever saw a way he could profit from this so he said,  “I must keep one but I can sell you the remaining six, but only if you chop off their ears and their tails and give them to me.”  The man agreed to the deal and cut of the tails and ears of the six pigs and as he drove them away Peter gleefully put the money in his pocket.

Of course this was all very clever business but how was he going to explain the missing pigs to his master?  Well, this is what he did. He took the remaining pig to a sand pit and half buried it in the sand. Then he carefully placed the ears and tails of the six mutilated pigs so that part of them poked out of the sand. Next he ran as fast as he could to his master crying, “Help, help, help, the pigs are stuck in the sand, come quick and help me get them out!”

 

Indonesian Folktales: The Soul in the Wild Mountain Rice

Presented here is a retelling of folktale from Indonesia called The Soul in the Mountain Rice, from Indonesian Legends and Folktales, told by Adele de Leeuw.

The Goddess, Tisna Wati

In the abode in the sky where the gods lived there was once a most charming and beautiful young goddess named Tisna Wati.  Although she lived in this divine place she was not really very happy there. She would often look down to the Earth and watch all the people busily going about their everyday tasks.  It fascinated her to see what all the mortals were doing; how they lived, how they worked and all of the many different things they did together. It was the “togetherness” she really liked because she was often alone and she would sigh and say, “I wish I could be like a mortal on Earth and do things with others instead of being all alone!”

Her father would often leave her alone while he went and battled with demons of the air and giants and she would be sad and lonely yearning to go with him.  When he returned she would show her displeasure by sulking and pouting but it made no difference.

Marriage

One day his father returned after battling a particularly nasty giant and found her in an exceptional surly and unpleasant frame of mind.  He grew angry with her and said, “I have had enough of your sulking and bad humor and wish I could send you down to earth to live among the mortals.  However, I cannot do this because you have drunk of the water of life and are therefore immortal. It is a shame, but I have thought of something else for you.  You will marry one of the gods and your husband will teach you how to improve your demeanor.”

“Marriage!”she cried, “I know just who I want for a husband, there!”  she cried happily.

“What?,” cried her father, “Who can that be?  Not one of those vile demons of the air. I forbid it!  Not one of those awful giants! I will not allow it!”

The Young Man

“No father, look he is there!” she said, pointing down to earth where a handsome young man was hard at work ploughing a rice field on the hillside.

“But that is the son of a man,”  growled her father furiously.  “He is but a mortal and you are the daughter of a god, I will not agree to this, you can never marry him!”

“I will marry him, or no one else!” shouted Tisna Wati,  “He will be my husband and I will be his wife, no one else will do, if I am to leave here!”

“Daughter, I tell you I will never let you marry a mortal man.  I will turn you into a wild rice stalk first. Understand and accept that I will choose your husband for you. He will be a son of one of the other gods and that is the end of the matter.  Be quiet and accept it!” growled her father angrily.

When Tisna Wati  saw his rage she grew afraid that her father would inseed turn her into a rice stalk as happened to the beautiful wife of Vishnu, Dewi Sri who had disobeyed her husband, leaving her deathless spirit to inhabit the fields of rice.

Tisna Wati was adamant that she would never allow herself to be turned into a rice stalk and she definitely would not marry one of the sons of the gods.  Her heart was set on marrying the handsome young man she had seen ploughing on the hillside and now for her no one else would do.

Without another word her father stormed off to find his wayward daughter a husband. Suddenly, word came to him that the demons of the air and the giants were threatening the Heaven of the gods once again.  Therefore he had to put off finding a husband for his daughter to fight them, but he shouted back at her, “I will return with your husband, be ready!”

Tisna Wati Goes to Earth

“So it shall be father,” she said meekly, “so it shall be!”  as if accepting her fate.  As soon as he had gone she leapt  on the wings of the wind and rode it safely down to earth where it kindly set her close to the hillside where the handsome young man was ploughing.

Tisna Wati was very excited and said to herself, “Now I see him close up and he looks better than I ever imagined!” and sat herself down to watch him and wait for him to notice her.

She watched as he ploughed, but he being intent on his work he did not notice her until he came to the end of the furrow and had to turn to begin another row.  Then he saw her and thought she was the most beautiful maiden he had ever seen and went over to talk to her.

“May I ask what you are looking for?” he said.

“Ha! I am looking for my husband.” she answered laughing.

The young man was surprised at her answer but her laughter made him laugh.  They laughed and they laughed because they were so happy. As they laughed together they fell deeply in love and they laughed and they laughed and they laughed. Their laughter rang out from the Earth up to Heaven where her father was fighting demons and giants and he broke off from the battle to listen.  Realizing it was his daughter’s voice he looked across to Earth and saw her sitting with the young man and the both of them laughing happily together.  Their joyful laughter rang out across the heavens drowning out the noise of battle and he erupted into rage and flew from the battle down to earth to where his daughter and the young man sat laughing together.

“Come with me immediately!” he commanded, “You are going home.”

Despite her father’s rage Tisna Wati had other ideas.  She was in love with the young man and wanted to stay with him and her love was stronger than her fear of her father’s wrath.

“No, father, I will not go back with you.  I am in love and would rather become a mortal and stay with my beloved,” she firmly replied.

The Soul in the Wild Mountain  Rice

“So be it you shall stay, but not as a daughter of a god, or as a mortal.  You shall become a rice stalk and your soul shall become one with the wild rice!” cried her father.   The young man looked on in shock and horror as Tisna Wati changed into a slender stalk of wild rice that bent gracefully towards him.

Her father saw this and he was filled with sorrow for what he had done.   “I could have let them be together, but now it is to late.  I cannot change her back and she must now remain a rice stalk for ever and her soul will enter the wild rice.  I will change him into a rice stalk too,” and after he did this he saw how the two stalks bent towards each other as lovers do.  He watched for a while and then shaking his head, flew back to the Heaven of the gods.

Ever since then the soul of Tisna Wati has been in the wild mountain rice, but where the soul of the young man went no one knows.  Some say that when the breeze passes through the wild mountain rice stalks their laughter can still be heard by those who are in love.

What do you think?

© 01/08/2018 zteve t evans

References, Attributions and Further Reading

Copyright August 1st, 2018 zteve t evans