ANTHROPOLOGICAL PAPERS
OF
THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY
VOL. XX, PART I
TALES OF YUKAGHIR, LAMUT, AND RUSSIANIZED NATIVES OF EASTERN SIBERIA
ВY
WALDEMAR BOGORAS
NEW YORK
PUBLISHED BY ORDER OF THE TRUSTEES
1918
The following tales were collected among Russianized natives of the Kolyma and the Anadyr country, and also among Russian Creoles, who, indeed, lead the same kind of life as the Russianized natives. I have ex-eluded a large number of those tales which treat of kings, young heroes on horseback, etc., and which, on the whole, clearly show their Russian or Turko-Mongol provenience, and have given only those that represent elements of native life. The narrators ascribe quite a number of the tales given here to the Lamut, Yukaghir, or Chuvantzi, but, so far as I am able to judge, most of those coming from the Kolyma indicate a Yukaghir provenience, and those from the Anadyr would seem to be of Chuvantzi origin. Nothing more definite than this is known. Most of the tales were taken down by myself, a large part by Mrs. Sophie Bogoras, and a few by a couple of Russian Creoles who could read and write after a fashion.
The majority have titles corresponding to their context, which must be due to Russian influence, as the same stories in native languages rarely have titles.
As to the transcription of proper names and such words as are said to belong to native languages, I have used, for the more or less Russianized words, the usual English alphabet, and for native words not Russianized, the special alphabet which I have used in the Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. 7. {Bogoras, ‘The Chukchee,’ 10.}
Some of the tales are composed in part of rhymed prose. Some of these prose rhymes, though quite local and native as to contents, are arranged in the form of the ancient Russian lays. For most of these I give the Russian text with English translation. Notes signed W. B. are by the author. A few comparative notes have been added by Franz Boas and signed with hi’ initials.
INTRODUCTION
I. TALES OF THE TUNDRA YUKAGHIR
1. (The Girl and the Evil Spirit)
2. (A Tale about the Wood-Master)
3. (Tale about the Sea-Spirit)
4. (The Sly Young Man)
5. (Creation Story)
6. (The Shaman who Turned into a Fox)
7. (Tale about Three Storks)
8. (Reindeer-Born)
II. TALES OF THE LAMUT
1. Chaun Story
2. A Tale op the Chuxchee Invasion
3. (Story about Cannibals)
4. (A Tale about Stingy Reindeer-Owners)
5. Story of an Arctic Fox
6. (Wolves and Men)
7. Bear, Wolverene, and Wolf Story
8. (A Lamut Man turned into Stone)
9. (A Shaman and a Boy)
10. (The Lamut and the Russian)
III. KOLYMA TALES
1. One-Side
2. A Yukaghir Tale
3. Raven Tale
4. Yukaghir Tale
5. A Bear Tale
6. Grass-Blade Girl
7. The Alder-Block
8. Yukaphir Tale
9. Tale about Cu’mo
10. Yukaghir Tale
11. The She-Monster
12. The Monster with Iron Teeth
13. The Girl from the Grave-Box
14. Small-Pox, a Yukaghir Tale
15. Tale of a Shaman
16. Tale of a Shaman
17. A Hunting Tale
18. Story about the Bad Merchant
19. Stepmother and Stepdaughter
21. Sea-Wanderers
22. The Tale of La’la (Kolyma Version)
23. The Tale of La’la (Anadyr Version)
24. The Woman’s Head
25. The Big Pike
26. Story of the Fish-Woman
27. Yukaghir Manners
28. A Story of Machekur
29. The Mouse and the Snow-Bunting
30. A Christmas Story
31. Story of a Foolish Woman
32. Story of the Forest Demon
33. Story of Transformed Bears
IV. CHILDREN’S STORIES
1. Story of an Old Woman and Her Three Daughters
2. Story of Kundarik
3. Story about Yaghishna
4. Story of Hungry Children
5. Story of Five Brothers
6. Story about a Crazy Old Man
7. Story about Two Girls
8. Story of the Том-Cat and the Cook
9. Story of Elk’s Head
10. Story of a Small Girl
11. Story about Yaghishna
V. MARKOVA TALES
1. Lamut Tale
2. A Lamut Tale
3. Yukaghir Tale
4. A Markova Tale
5. A Markova Tale
6. A Markova Tale
7. Sister and Brother Married
8. A Lamut Tale
9. A Yukaghir Tale
VI. ANADYR TALES
10. A Chuvantzi Tale (Anadyr Version)
11. Lay of E6ndandi (Kolyma Version)
12. Story about Kundirik
13. A Markova Tale
14. Story of a Stepmother and her Stepdaughters
15. Story of Magus
16. Story of Gege-Woman
17. Story of Heretics with Iron Teeth
18. Story of the Fox and the Wolf
The following alphabet is used in transcribing native words: —
a, e, i, u have their continental sounds (in Chukchee and Koryak always long).
о like о in nor.
a obscure vowel (long).
like a in make.
a, E, i obscure vowels (short).
like e in bell, but prolonged.
ei a dipththong with an accent on t. It always has a laryngeal intonation, уi8.
between о and u long.
mouth in i position, lips in u position (short),
w, у as in English.
Very long and very short vowels are indicated by the macron and breve respectively.
The diphthongs are formed by combining any of the vowels with t and u. Thus: — ai like i in hide.
ei like ei in vein.
oi like oi in choice.
au like ow in how.
l as in German.
l pronounced with the tip of the tongue touching the palate a little
above the alveoli of the upper jaw, the back of the tongue free.
l posterior palatal l, surd and exploded (affricative), the tip of the tongue pressed against the hard palate.
L posterior palatal l, sonant.
as in French.
f dental with slight trill.
r velar.
m as in English.
n as in English
n nasal n sound.
palatized n (similar to ny).
b, p as in English.
b’, p’, d’, t’, g’, k’ have a spirant added (gehauchter Absatz of Sievers).
v bilabial.
g like g in good.
h as in English.
x like ch in German Bach.
x’ like ch in German ich.
q velar к.
k as in English.
g velar g.
d, t as in English.
d., t. palatized (similar to dy and ty).
s as in English.
s. palatized (similar to sy).
palatized German z.
с like English sh.
like English ch.
j like j in French jour.
j like j in joy.
c. strongly palatized с
j. strongly palatized j.
! designates increased stress of articulation.
3 a very deep laryngeal intonation.
‘ a full pause between two vowels: yine’a.
I. TALES OF THE TUNDRA YUKAGHIR.1
1 These tales were collected among the Tundra Yukaghir on the western tundra of the Kolyma country. The Tundra Yukaghir have a mixture of Tungus blood, and call themselves ‘Tungus’ in the Russian and in the Yakut languages. Though the language of the tales is Yukaghir they were written down mostly without the original text. Conversation with the narrators was carried on in the Chukchee language and partly also in Russian. The tales often include well-known episodes of Old World folklore, borrowed from the Yakut or from Russian neighbors. Most of them had no titles. The titles have been Introduced by me according to the contents of the tales.
1. (The Girl and the Evil-Spirit.)
There lived a girl who knew no man. Nor could she tell who were her parents. She was rich in reindeer and other property. So she walked about, singing lustily. She never went to watch over her reindeer. When the reindeer strayed away too far, she would merely sing one of her songs, and they would come back of their own will. She sang and sang, and when she came back to her home, she would find the fire burning, the food cooked, and everything ready. Thus she lived on without work, care, or trouble.
One day she saw that half the sky was darkened. This darkness approached nearer and nearer. It was the evil spirit. One of his lips touched the sky, the other dragged along the ground. {Altai-Katunja (W. Radloff. Proben der Volkslitteratur der Trkischen Stmme Sub-Sibiriene. vol. 1, 39, 73), Ainu (B. Pilsudski. Materials for the Study of the Ainu Language and Folklore (Cracow, 1912], 205. 240).— F. B.} Between was an open mouth, ready to swallow up whatever came in its way. ‘Ah!’ said the girl,’ my death is coming. What shall I do?’ She took her iron-tipped staff and fled.
The evil spirit gave chase, and was gaining on her. She drew from her pocket a small comb of ivory and threw it back over her shoulder. {Bolte und Polivka, Anmerkungen zu den Kinder-u. Hausmrehen der Brler Grimm, vol. 2. 140.— F. B.} The comb turned into a dense forest. The girl ran onward. When the evil spirit reached the forest he swallowed it, chewed it, and gulped it down. He digested it and then defecated. The dense forest turned again into a small ivory comb. After that he continued his pursuit and was gaining on her, as before. She loosened from her waist a red handkerchief, which became a fire extending from heaven to earth. The evil spirit reached the fire. He went to a river and drank it completely dry. Then he came back to the fire, and poured the water upon it. The fire was extinguished. Only a red handkerchief lay on the ground, quite small, and dripping wet.
After that he gave chase again, and gained steadily on the girl. She struck the ground with her iron-tipped staff, and all at once she turned into an arctic fox. In this form she sped on, swifter than ever. The big mouth, however, followed after, wide open, and ready to swallow her. She struck the ground with her iron-tipped staff, turned into a wolverene and fled swifter than ever, but the evil mouth followed after. She struck the ground with her iron-tipped staff and turned into a wolf and sped away swifter than ever. She struck the ground with her iron-pointed staff and turned into a bear, with a copper bell in each ear. She ran off swifter than ever, but the big mouth followed and gained on her steadily. Finally, it came very near, and was going to swallow her.
Then she saw a Lamut tent covered with white skins. She summoned all her strength, and rushed on toward that tent. She stumbled at the entrance and fell down, exhausted and senseless. After a while, she came to herself and looked about. On each side of her stood a young man, their caps adorned with large silver plates. She looked backward, and saw the evil spirit who had turned into a handsome youth, fairer than the sun. He was combing and parting his hair, making it smooth and fine. The girl rose to her feet.
The three young men came to her and asked her to enter the tent. The one who had appeared in the form of the evil spirit said, ‘We are three brothers, and I am the eldest one. I wanted to bring you to my tent. Now you must tell us which of us you will choose for your husband.’ She chose the eldest, and married him, and they lived together. The end.
Told by John Korkin, a Tundra Yukaghir man, on the western tundra of the Kolyma, spring of 1895.
2. (A Tale about the Wood-Master.)1
1) This tale is Tundra Yukaghir, though the hero is called a Lamut. For Masters and Owners, cf. Bogoras, ‘The Chukchee’ (Publicatiotu of the Jcsup North Pacific Expedition, vol. 7), 285.
There lived a man who was very poor. He used to walk along a small river near his house, constructing deadfalls for hares. Sometimes he would catch one hare, another time he would catch two. With these he fed his family. One time he said to himself, ‘What does the Wood-Master look like? I should like to see him.’ The whole day long he walked about, and thought of the Wood-Master. The next morning he set off to examine his deadfalls and all at once there came a heavy snowstorm. He lost his way and struggled on not knowing where he went.
At last he felt very tired, so he found a cavity under a steep bank of the river. Then he made a fire and crouched before it, waiting for better weather. All at once, not far off, he saw a huge iron sledge. An iron reindeer-buck just as big was attached to the sledge, and a black-faced man as tall as a larch tree was walking along with enormous strides. He asked himself, ‘What are these? I wanted to see the Wood-Master. Goodness! Is this not the Wood-Master himself, with his appurtenances?’ He was so frightened that he cried aloud, ‘God help me!’ In a moment the iron sledge broke into a number of small pieces, and the iron buck was scattered to ashes. The tall man, however, did not fall at all. He looked at the man, and called angrily, ‘You, man! come here!’ So the man went to the Wood-Master and awaited his words. ‘What have you done to my property?’ cried the Wood-Master. ‘You have broken my sledge, you have destroyed my driving-reindeer, and you have even frightened me. I was frightened no less than you. And now you want me to walk on foot! I will not. You must repair my sledge, and restore to life my driving reindeer-duck. This is the task that you must perform.’ — ‘How can I perform a task like that?’ said the man. ‘Ah!’ said the Wood-Master, ‘why have you been thinking about me so steadily? You were calling me in your mind, so I came. Now you must make good your evil action.’ — ‘ Ah, sorrows!’ said the Lamut, ‘I will try my best, but then you must let me walk alone. I cannot achieve anything in the presence of another being, be it man, forest-owner, or evil spirit’ — ‘All right,’ said the Wood-Master, ‘you may walk alone.’
Then the black giant set off. The Lamut walked around some small bushes, saying ‘Sledge, О sledge! be whole again! Buck, О buck! be whole again!’ And, indeed, the sledge and the buck were whole, as before. Then he touched the reindeer-buck with his right hand. ‘Buck, О buck! come to life!’ But the buck remained without life and motion. He touched the buck with his left hand, and said likewise, ‘Buck, О buck, come to life again!’ And, indeed, the reindeer-buck, gave a start, and came to life. ‘Ah, ah!’ said the Lamut, ‘where are you, black giant, Forest-Owner?’ At once the black giant appeared. ‘Oh, it is all right! What do you want me to pay you for this? I can give you immense wealth.’ — ‘I do not wish any wealth at all. I want plenty of food for all of my life.’ — ‘ All right, go home! You shall have as much food as you want. Have no care. Go home and sleep! Tomorrow morning go into the forest, and set there five large self-acting bows. They shall’ give you ample food.’
The Lamut went home. His wife said to him, ‘О husband! I thought you would never come. It is several days since I saw you last.’ — ‘I was caught in a heavy snowstorm, so I sat crouching under the steep bank, before a small fire.’ — ‘What snowstorm?’ asked the old woman in great wonder. ‘We have not had the slightest trace of any storm.’
The next morning the Lamut went into the woods and set five self-acting bows, and that very night five big elks were killed. He took them home. After that, he would catch five elks every time. He collected a great mass of meat and a number of skins, and so became very rich. He lived in plenty until his death.
Told by John Korkin, a Tundra Yukaghir, on the western tundra of the Kolyma country, spring of 1895.
3. (Tale about the Sea-Spirit.)1
1 This story represents a Tundra Yukaghir version of the well-known tale of the dragon and the young princess.— W. B.— Bolte und Pollvka. l. c., vol. 1. 547, E. Cosquin, Contes populaires de Lorraine, vol. 1, 66. and vol. 2, 260.— F. B.
There was a small river that flowed into the sea. Some Tungus lived at the mouth of the river, and caught fish. One time they came to the sea and saw a sea-spirit as big as a whale coming up from under the water. The sea-spirit said, ‘O people! you are* here.* I want to devour you.’ They prayed to him to let them live. ‘ All right,’ said the spirit, ‘ I will devour only one man now, and the others may go home, but every day you must give me one man. You must bring him to the sea, and leave him near the water. He shall be food for me. Otherwise, if you do not do as I bid, I shall carry off your nets and drive away all the fish. I shall turn over your canoes, and so I shall surely devour you, nevertheless.
The Tungus went home, leaving one of their number behind. They went to their chief, and said to him, ‘What is to be done? We have to give away one man after another. We cannot live without the sea.’ Sa they gave to the spirit one victim after another. At last came the turn of the only daughter of the chief. They took her to the sea and put her down on the sand. Then they went back. The young girl sat there awaiting her death. Then she saw a young man coming. He was a wanderer, who knew neither father nor mother, and was walking around aimlessly. ‘ What are you doing here?’ said the young man — ‘I am awaiting my death. The sea-spirit is coming to devour me.’ — ‘The sea-spirit! What is he like? I want to stay here and see him.’ —‘Young man,’ said the chiefs daughter, ‘go home. What need of two human lives being de-stroved?’ —‘I have no fear,’ said the young man. ‘I have neither father nor mother. There is not a single soul in the world that would lament my death. I shall sit here and wait for the sea-spirit.’ He took his place close to the chief’s daughter, and said to her, ‘Louse me a little, and make me sleep! But if anybody comes, make me get up!’
So he slept, and did not wake until the flood tide set in, and with the flood came the sea-spirit. He saw the young man, and said with joy, ‘ Ah, good people! this time they brought two people instead of one.’ The chief’s daughter wanted to rouse the young man, but he slept on, and took no heed of all her nudging and shaking. So she cried over him and a hot tear trickled down and fell upon his face.’ The young man awoke instantly and sprang up. ‘Ah, ah,’ said he, ‘you are already here!’ He attacked the sea-monster, and they fought until late in the evening. At last the young man grasped the upper jaw of the monster, and tore it off along with the skull. ‘Oh, I am tired!’ said the young man. He sat down again and put his head upon the girl’s lap. ‘Louse me again,’ said he, and she did so. He went to sleep as before. One of the herdsmen of the chief came to the shore. He said to the girl, ‘Why, you are still alive?’ — ‘I am,’ said the girl. ‘And how is it with the sea-spirit?’ — ‘This man has killed him.’ — ‘You lie!’ said the herdsman. ‘ Who will believe that a loitering fellow like this man with no kith or kin, could kill the monster? It is I who killed the monster.’
He drew a knife and stabbed the man. He threw his body into the sea, and said to the girl, ‘Thus have I done, and if you contradict me with as much as a word, I shall do the same to you.’ She was frightened, and promised to obey him and to say that he had killed the monster. So he took her by the hand and led her back to her father. ‘Here,’ said he, ‘I have killed the sea-monster, and saved your only daughter from death. Your daughter is mine at present.’ The father was full of joy. ‘All right,’ said he, ‘take her and marry her.’ They arranged a great bridal feast for the next morning.
In the meantime, the chief’s daughter called together all the girls of the village, and they prepared a large drag-net, as large as the sea itself. They cast it into the sea and dragged it along the shore, and then right across the sea. They toiled and toiled the whole night long, and in the morning at dawn they caught the body of her rescuer. ‘Here it is,’ said the chief’s daughter. ‘This man saved me from the monster, and the herdsman stabbed him in his sleep. Now I shall stab myself, so that both of us may have one common funeral.’ — ‘Do not do so,’ said one of her companions. ‘I know a rock not far from here. From under that rock comes a stream of water, scalding hot, but good for healing all kinds of wounds.’ She went to the rock with a stone bottle and fetched some of the water. They washed the wound with it, and, lo! the youth came to life again. The girl took him by the hand and led him to her father. ‘ This is the man who saved me. The other one is a traitor and an impostor.’ So they killed the herdsman, the young man married the girl, and they lived there. The end.
Told by Innocent Karyakin, a Tundra Yukaghir on the western tundra of the Kolyma country, winter of 1895.
1 This tale represents a mixture of some Russian and Yakut episodes adapted to the ideas and customs of the tundra inhabitants. Some details are curious enough, such, for instance, as nails driven into the flesh of the heel, which undoubtedly represent spurs, etc.
There were two brothers, one married, the other unmarried. The married one lived in one place, the unmarried one, in another. They did not want to live together. One time the unmarried brother wanted to visit the married one. When he approached his house, he listened, and thought, ‘Why, my brother and his wife are talking and laughing quite merrily.’ When he came nearer, however, he noticed that the man’s voice was not that of his brother. So he crept along the wall very cautiously, and then looked through a rent in the skin covering. A strange man was having quite a merry time with his sister-in-law. They were hugging and kissing, and talking and playing with each other. He thought, ‘My brother is not here. Probably he is off hunting wild reindeer.’ The others meanwhile took off their breeches {Women also wear breeches among the Chukchee, the Lamut, the Yukaghir, etc.} and made love right before him, though unaware of his presence. At the most critical moment the young man entered the house. The woman, however, shook herself free, swifter than a she-ermine, and in a moment the man too was hidden beneath the blanket. The young man said nothing. He simply sat down and waited for the evening. The other man, the one hidden under the blanket, having nothing else to do, also waited. Late in the evening, the married brother came home.
The unmarried brother said nothing to him about the strange man hidden in the house, the woman also said nothing, but both were silent and very anxious. The married brother said, ‘Listen, wife! Our brother has come to visit us. Cook plenty of the best meat and reindeer-fat, and we will have a hearty meal.’ The visiting brother said nothing, and waited, as before. The woman cooked some meat, and taking it out of the kettle, carved it with great care and spread the meal. The married brother said, ‘Come on! Let us eat!’ The other answered, ‘How can we eat, since a strange man is hidden in our house?’ The married brother said, ‘Then I shall look Ifor him in every corner, and certainly I shall find him.’ He did so, searching all through the house, but found nothing. Then he said again, ‘So it was a joke of yours. Come on! Let us have a meal!’ The unmarried brother said, as before, ‘How can we have a meal? A strange man is hidden in the house.’ The same happened three successive times. At last the unmarried brother said, ‘Leave me alone! How can we have a meal? A strange man fa hidden in your bed, and covered with your own blankets.’ The married brother pulled off the blanket. The strange man was lying there, face downward. His head was under the pillow. The married brother felt very angry. He drew his knife and with a single blow, cut off the head of the adulterer. Then he came to himself and said with great sorrow, ‘Oh, brother! — and you, woman! You ought to have warned me in time. Now, what is to be done? I have killed a man. What will happen to us?’ He sat down and cried most wretchedly. The other brother said, ‘What of it? There is no need of crying. He has been killed, and we cannot change it. It is better that I carry off the body and. dispose of it.’
He took the body and carried it off. After some time he found the tracks of the killed man and followed them up. He came to a beaten road, and then to a large village. It had numerous houses, some of them Tungus, and some Yakut. They had herds of reindeer and also of horses. In the middle of the village stood a large house just like a hill. It was the house of the chief of the village. The unmarried brother arrived there in the night time and soon found the house of the killed man. He entered at once, carrying the corpse on his back. The parents of the killed one, an old man and an old woman, were sleeping on the right hand side of the house. The bed of their son was on the left hand side. He went to the bed, put down the body, and covered it with a skin blanket. He tucked in the folds with great care, and then placed the head in its proper place, so that he looked just like a man sleeping. The old man, and the old woman heard a rustling sound and thought, ‘Ah, it is our son! He has come home.’ Then the father said, ‘Ah, it is you! Why are you so late?’
In another corner slept the elder brother of the killed man and his wife. He also said, ‘Why are you so late? You ought to be asleep long ago.’ The man who had carried in the corpse crept softly out of the house and went home. He came to his married brother, who said, ‘Ah, it is you! You are alive. And what have you done with the body?’ — ‘I carried it to the house of his parents and put it down on his own bed. He ought to have slept on it long ago.’
After that they had a meal. Then the unmarried brother said again, ‘I will go back and see what happened to the dead body.’ — ‘Do not go! This time they will surely kill you.’ — ‘ They will not kill me. I shall go and see.’ He would not listen to his married brother, and went back to the house of the dead man. He approached, and heard loud wailing. The relatives of the killed man were lamenting over the body. He entered and saluted the old man. Then modestly he sat down at the women’s place. The old man said, ‘I never saw such a face in our village. Certainly, you are a stranger, a visitor to our country.’ — ‘I am,’ said the young man. ‘And why are you lamenting in this wise?’ — ‘We have good reason for it,’ said the old man. ‘Two sons we had, and now we have lost one of them. He used to walk in the night time, heaven knows where. Then he grew angry with us and in that angry mood he cut off his own head. After that he lay down, covered himself with a blanket, and then he died. So you see we have good reasons for lamenting.’
They had a meal and then some tea. After that the old man said, ‘We have no shamans in our village, although it is large. Perhaps you know of some shaman in your own country?’ — ‘Yes,’ said the young man, ‘I know of one.’ He lied once more. He did not know of any shaman. ‘Ah!’ said the old man, brightening up, ‘if that is so, go and bring him here.’ He asked them for two horses,— one for himself, and another for the shaman whom he was to bring.’ I will ride one horse, and the other I will lead behind with a halter for the shaman.’ He rode off without aim and purpose, for he knew of no shaman. After a long while he came to a lonesome log cabin. Some wolflings were playing before the entrance. He entered. An old wolf-woman was sitting on a bench. Her hair was long, it hung down and spread over the floor. A young girl was sitting at a table. She was quite fair, fairer than the sun. This was the Wolf-girl. The wolflings outside were her brothers. The old woman looked up and said, ‘I never saw such a face in our own place. No human beings ever came here. Who are you,— a human creature, or something else?’ — ‘I am human.’ — ‘And what are you looking for, roaming about?’ — ‘I am in great need. I am looking for a shaman, having been sent by a suffering person.’ She repeated her question, and he answered the same as before. The old woman held her breath for some time. Then she said, ‘I am too old now. I do not know whether I still possess any power, but in former times I used to help people.’ He took hold of her, put her upon his horse, and rode back to the old man’s home.
He took her into the house, and said, ‘This is the shaman I have brought for you.’ They treated her to the best dainties, and all the while she was drying over the fire her small, strange shaman’s drum. After that she started her shamanistic performance. According to custom, she made the man who had taken her there hold the long tassel fastened to the back of her garments. ‘Take care!’ said the old woman, ‘do not let go of this tassel!’ He grasped the tassel, and the old woman wound herself around like a piece of birchbark over the fire. The house was full of people, housemates, guests, onlookers. After a while the young man said, ‘I feel very hot. Let somebody hold this tassel for a little while, and I will go out and cool myself.’
He went out of the house. The moon was shining brightly. A number of horses were digging the snow for some tussock-grass. He caught them all. Then he cut down some young willow and prepared a number of willow brooms — one for each of the horses. He tied the brooms to the tails of the horses. Then he set them afire, and set the horses free. Seeing the glare and scenting the smell of fire, they ran away in every direction. He went back and took hold of the tassel again, as though nothing had happened. Then some other person went out, and hurried back, shouting, ‘O men! the country all around is aflame!’ And, indeed, the horses were galloping about, waving high their tails of fire. ‘Who lighted this fire?’ said the people. ‘Perhaps the spirits.’ Everyone left the house. They stood outside, staring upon that living fire fleeting by. ‘Ah, ah!’ said some of them. ‘It is our end. This fire will burn us down.’ Not one of them thought any more of the old woman. The young man, however, quietly slipped back into the house.
The old woman was drumming more violently than ever. She was so full of inspiration, that she had noticed nothing at all. He looked about. No one was there. The old woman drummed on. Then he lifted from the ground a big kettle full to the brim of ice-cold water and all at once he overturned it over the old woman’s head. After that he put the kettle over her head and shoulders. The old woman shuddered, and fell down dead, as is the way of all shamans when frightened unexpectedly. The young man left the house, and mingled among the people outside, looking most innocent.
After some time, however, he said, ‘Why are we standing here looking at this blaze, and meantime we have left the shaman alone in the house? That is wrong.’ They hurried back, and the wolf shaman was lying on the ground, wet and stone dead, half hidden in the kettle. The old man was in great fear, and wailed aloud, ‘Alas, alas! I lost a son, and that was bad enough, but it is much worse that this Wolf-woman has died in our house. Her children will surely come and wreak vengeance upon our heads. We are already as good as dead. О God!’ he continued, ‘we are in a bad plight. Somebody must go and carry the Wolf-woman to her own house.’
The people were full of fear and nobody wanted to go. Then the old man tried to induce the young visitor to convey the body of the Wolf-woman to her family. The young man said, ‘How can I do this? They will tear me into bits.’ The old man had a young daughter who was very pretty. He said, ‘Please toss this old woman away! If you come back alive, you may marry this young girl as your reward.’ — ‘All right,’ said the young man, ‘but still I am not sure. Perhaps, even if I come back alive, you will break your word and give me nothing.’ — ‘No, never!’ said the old man, ‘I will deal honestly with you.’ — ‘So be it,’ said the young man. ‘Now please kill for me two ptarmigan, and give me their bladders filled with fresh and warm blood.’ He took the bladders and placed them under his armpits. Then he drove some iron nails into his heels, into the very flesh. He took the old woman and put her upon the saddle. Then he bound her fast, though not very strongly. She looked, however, quite like a living person riding a horse. They set off and reached the house of the wolves. ‘ Oh,’ the wolflings raised a yell,’ Mamma is coming, mamma is coming!’ ‘Easy,’ said the young man. ‘My horse shies easily. Take care lest you cause some great misfortune.’ And he secretly spurred his horse with the nails of his feet. The horse reared and threw him down. The other horse did the same. The body of the wolf-mother fell down like a bundle of rags. The bladder burst, and all the blood was spilled. They lay there side by side, swimming in blood. The wolf-children said, ‘O brother! our mother is dead, but that is as nothing. We have killed that stranger by our imprudence. He is near unto death, and no doubt his brothers and sisters, and all his kith and kin, will come here to have revenge.’
They went near and looked at him. The blood was streaming down his arms and legs. ‘Oh, oh!’ said the wolf-children, ‘How can he live?’ In despair they took him by the hands and feet and shook him and said to him, ‘Please, man, do not die here! We will give you our pretty sister.’ They worried him, howled over him, and entreated him, and by and by he acted as though feeling a little better. He sighed low, ‘Oh, oh!’ In the end he fully revived and came to. ‘Ah!’ said the wolflings to their sister, ‘see what good luck we have. A man was dying, and we said, ‘We will give you our sister/ and he revived.’
So he took the girl and went home. ‘Be sure,’ said the wolf children on taking farewell, ‘when you return to your own place, not to tell your kinsmen that we had nearly killed you!’ — ‘I will not tell,’ assured the man, and galloped off with his bride. They came to the old man. ‘I have come back and am alive!’ shouted the young man. ‘Where is the girl?’ — ‘Here she is,’ said the old man. ‘Thank god, you have come back safe!’ He took the other girl, and went back to his brother with two women and three horses. The brother said, ‘How long it is since you were here! I thought you were dead but I see you have brought some girls.’ — ‘ I have,’ said the young man. He entered the house, and without much ado, cut off the head of his sister-in-law. ‘ There you are!’ said he. ‘ You shall have no more paramours.’ He gave his brother the old man’s daughter and took for himself the old woman’s daughter. After that they lived on. {See Bolte und Polivka, l. c., vol. 2, 1.— F. B.}
Told by Innocent Karyakin, a Tundra Yukaghir man, on the western tundra of the Kolyma country, winter of 1895.
1 Cf. Bogoras, ‘Chukchee Materials,’ No. 32, 131.
When the Creator created the earth, the bear was made the master of all the beasts. The wolf, the fox, and the wolverene paid homage to him. But the wild reindeer refused to obey him, and ran about free, as before. One day the Forest-Owner was hunting five reindeer-does, and one doe, in running, brought forth a fawn. The Forest-Owner caught it and wanted to devour it. The Fawn said, ‘Please give me a respite. My flesh is too lean. Let me grow up to be a one-year-old.’— ‘ All right,’ said the Forest-Owner, and he let him go.
After a year the Forest-Owner found the fawn, and wanted to devour it, but the fawn said once more, ‘Do not eat me now! Let me rather grow a little and be a two-year-old.’ — ‘All right,’ said the Forest-Owner, and he let him go. Another year passed, and the reindeer fawn had new antlers, as hard as iron and as sharp as spears. Then the Forest-Owner found the fawn and wanted to devour it. He said, ‘This time I am going to eat you up.’— ‘Do!’ said the fawn. The Forest-Owner drew his knife and wanted to stab the fawn. ‘No,’ said the fawn,’ such a death is too cruel and too hard. Please grasp my antlers and wrench off my head.’ The Forest-Owner assented, and grasped the fawn’s antlers. Then the fawn gored him and pierced his belly through, so that the intestines fell out and the Forest-Owner died. The fawn sought his mother.’ Oh, you are still alive! I thought you were dead.’ — ‘No,’ said the fawn, ‘I killed the Forest-Owner, and I am the chief of the reindeer.’ Then the bear sent a fox to the fawn. The fox said, ‘ All the beasts pay homage to the bear, and he wants you to do the same.’ — ‘No,’ said the fawn, ‘I killed the Forest-Owner, I also am a chief.’
After that they prepared for war. The bear called together all those with claws and teeth,— the fox, the wolverene, the wolf, the ermine. The reindeer-fawn called together all those with hoofs and antlers,— the reindeer, the elk, the mountain-sheep. Then they fought. The bear and the reindeer-fawn had a single fight. The fawn pierced the bear through with its antlers of iron. Then it stood still and felt elated. But its mother said, ‘There is no reason to feel elated. Your death is at hand.’ Just as she said this, a wolf sprang up from behind, caught the fawn by the throat and lolled it.
Because the reindeer-fawn gored the Forest-Owner to death, no reindeer dies a natural death. It lives on until a wolf, creeping up from behind opens its throat and kills it.
Told by Innocent Karyakin, a Tundra Yukaghir man, on the western tundra of the Kolyma country, winter of 1895.
6. (The Shaman who turned into a Fox.)
There lived an old man who had a pretty young daughter. He was a great shaman, and he wanted to find a husband for her, the best of all human kind. So he turned into an arctic fox and ran along. Whomsoever he met, by him he would allow himself to be caught. And as soon as the man caught him, his hand would stick to the fox’s back. Then the fox would rush onward, dragging the man along. The fox would come to a river and turn into a fish. Then it would dive into the water, dragging the man along. And so the man would be drowned.
Another time he turned into a red fox and ran along. Whomsoever he met, by him he would permit himself to be caught. Then the hand of the man would stick to the fox’s back. The fox would rush onward, dragging the man along, and soon would drown him in the river.
A third time he turned into an ermine, and the same happened as before.
Finally, he turned into a black fox and ran along. He met a young man, a wanderer, who knew neither father nor mother, and who walked about without aim and in great poverty. The fox allowed himself to be taken. Then the hand of the wanderer stuck to his back, and the fox rushed on, dragging the man along. The fox ran to the river, turned into a fish, and dived into the water, dragging the man along. The fish crossed the river, came to the opposite shore, and turned again into a fox. And, lo! the young man was still alive. The fox rushed on, and came to some rocks. The rocks were all covered with sharp-pointed spikes. The number of the rocks was ten. The fox ran through between all of them, and the man along with him. The man was winding along like a thin hair, and he was still alive. The fox ran into a forest, which was as dense and thick as the autumn grass. The bark of one tree touched the bark of another. They crossed this dense forest, but the young man was still alive. The fox came to the sea, and plunged into the sea. He went across the sea to the opposite shore, but the man was still alive. Then the fox said, ‘Oh, you are an excellent man! I want to have you for a husband for my daughter. I will let go of your hand. So please let go of my back.’ The man said, ‘I do not want to have your daughter. I want rather to have your skin.’ He lifted the black fox high into the air, and then struck it upon the ground with much force. The fox was dead. That is all.
Told by Innocent Karyakin, a Tundra Yukaghir man, on the western tundra of Kolyma, winter of 1895.
7. (Tale about Three Storks.)1
There lived a man who did not know where he was born. We think, however, that we were born of this man. He was rich in everything. One time a She-Monster came to him and wanted to be his wife. The She-Monster said, ‘You must take me for your wife. Otherwise, I shall devour you.’ So he married her, and they lived together. After some time he felt sorrowful and thought to himself, ‘Is it fair, that I being a man, so strong and rich, must have for a wife this unclean monster?’
He came to a water-hole, and sat down there. For three days and three nights he cried from vexation near the water-hole. One time, when he was crying there, a girl appeared out of the water. He said, ‘I am lonely. Sit down by my side and cry with me?’—‘ How can I sit by your side? Your Monster Wife will surely kill me.’ The man spoke fair words to the girl. Three times she appeared out of the water-hole and talked to him. The She-Monster said, ‘What is the matter with you? For three nights in succession you have stayed near that water-hole. Did you not find another woman there to spend your nights with?’ The man answered, ‘Where should I find a woman better than yourself? And why should I look for another woman?’ They lay down and slept together.
Early in the morning the woman arose from the bed. She threw her thimble upon the man, and his sleep grew sound and strong, almost like death. He slept throughout the day, and on until midnight. The Monster-Woman took his bow and arrows and went to the water-hole. She lay there in ambush, holding the bow strung and ready to shoot. At last, the water-woman appeared out of the water-hole. The Monster-Woman shot at her, and hit her straight in the heart. She fell down, and sank to the. bottom.
The Monster-Woman came home and picked up her thimble from the man’s bed. The man awoke instantly. He looked around, and said, ‘Ah! how long have I slept?’ So he put on his clothes and ran to the water-hole. It was full of blood. He saw the blood, and cried bitterly. ‘Ah!’ said he,’ it is my wife who has spilled this blood.’ He plunged into the water-hole head foremost.
Сновидение и есть какой-то непрестанный контакт взаимодействия между органами зрения и органами воспроизведения, что мифологически, символически выражается концепцией ФАЛЛИЧЕСКОГО ЗРАЧКА. Сюда относятся выразительные древне-египетские изображения, приурочиваемые к культу Озириса, бесчисленные легенды о циклопах, одного из которых, пещерного жителя Полифема, ослепил (оскопил) Одиссей. Половой орган рисуется как бы большим глазом, крепко закрытым — это Вий с опущенными до земли и в землю вросшими железными веками. Однако в известные моменты эти веки могут быть подняты. Они полуподняты (прищурены) во всяком сновидении и широко раскрыты в творческом возбуждении, когда брошен луч света на электромагнитные вихри нервной энергии, текущей из организма человека через половую сферу на излучаемые потоки форм и образов. Художнику дозволен взгляд в то сокровенное горнило, где ‘первообразы кипят, где облака неистово крутясь, стремятся образы принять живые’. Взгляд этот имеет силу организовывать, упорядочивать и регулировать эти вихри, соразмеряя и сочленяя, соподчиняя друг другу возникающие образы, возводя из них целостную постройку (ведь ‘зрение — размышление’ — Гете). ‘Неестественной властию осветились мои очи’, — может сказать с Гоголем каждый художник, и, если испуг ‘испуганной орлицы’ не дойдет до степени ужаса Хомы Брута перед Вием, то взгляд творца приобретает непобедимую силу, подобно пушкинскому ‘свыше вдохновленному’ Петру: ‘Его глаза сияют… лик его ужасен… он поле пожирал очами…’ Во всяком эротическом подъеме световые зрительные восприятия ‘неестественно’ усиливаются, получая новые подкрепления за счет кожно-осязательных. Влюбленные взирают, по свидетельству поэта, на звезды особенным образом. ‘Взирают, как боги’. Упираются, ощупывают взглядом небесные светила. — ‘Взгляд его (лермонтовского Демона) сверкал, неотразимый, как кинжал’. Здесь, согласно закону превращения нервной энергии, возбуждение, из одной области иррадиирует, отражается и переходит в другую область. Сила и захват всякой поэзии зависит от роли в ней наглядных представлений. ‘Глаз был преимущественно тем органом, котором я воспринимал мир, — говорил о себе Гете и признавался: ‘Есть минуты, когда желаешь себе больше глаз, чтобы можно было как следует все вобрать в себя, где закрывается глаз, там я с большим удовольствием готов впасть в естественный сон’. Эмерсон* утверждал, что ‘Гете видит каждой порой’. Само зрение Гете — как бы утонченное осязание, с помощью которого его организм приходит в непосредственное соприкосновение с вещами. Нет вообще ‘чистого’ зрения или ‘чистого’ осязания — всякое осязание зрительно: в нем нечто созревает, назревает, щупалец, микроскопический потенциальный зрачок, и каждая пора, каждая щель может затянуться, подернуться светочувствительной пленкой, как это некогда случилось в процессе эволюции с глазным отверстием. Мудрено ли, что в эрогенных зонах, где особенно обострены осязательные ощущения, — там они сопровождаются чувством прорезывающихся из-под век новых зрачков. Под напором приливных волн с треском лопается железная крышка гроба. Летающий в церкви гроб — символ эрекции, лопанье крышки и выход мертвеца — красавицы ведьмы — рисует процесс эякуляции….. ЭТОТ КОМПРОМИСНЫЙ ИСХОД НЕ УДОВЛЕТВОРЯЕТ ГЛУБОЧАЙШЕМУ ЖЕЛАНИЮ МЕТАМОРФОЗЫ: проецированный в пространстве орган здесь отсекается, как чужой — не узнается. Концепция ГРОБА исходит из слишком материального представления или материального ощущения отвердевших очертаний ‘ОБЛАКА’, которые нужно в этом случае взламывать. Сюда относится весь круг представлений о мертвой — или спящей в гробу царевне, ряд дионистических мифов, изображающих бога находимым в гробу, в раке, в смоляном ковчеге, гроб Озириса, ставший колонной в храме Библоса. Но возможно и иное, БОЛЕЕ ПЛАСТИЧЕСКОЕ, БОЛЕЕ ОРГАНИЧЕСКОЕ ТЕЧЕНИЕ ПРОЦЕССА. Уже не железная крышка гроба отламывается, отскакивает, но лишь подымаются, раздвигаются железные веки на железном лице ВИЯ. Тут скрытой в гробу красавице соответствует ЗРАЧОК чудовища, который уже не выходит из орбиты, не выскакивает — это ему незачем делать, ибо он ВИДИТ то, чего не видит ведьма. Наступает момент ЗЕРКАЛЬНОГО УЗНАВАНИЯ, столь страшный для неподготовленного. Эрекция зрачка, передача волн эротического возбуждения к органу зрения — вот сущность этой сублимации, на почве которой вырастает художественное творчество всех видов. ‘Меня, — повествует поэт
Во мраке и пыли
Доселе влачившего оковы
Любови крылья вознесли в отчизну пламени…’
‘И просветлел мой темный взор,
И стал мне видим мир незримый…’
‘И на волнующийся дол взираю новыми очами’*.
Новизна здесь в уловлении взором мировой динамики и ВОЛНУЕМОСТИ, вечной изменяемости всех очертаний предметного мира, — а равно и узоров волновых узлов силовых линий, еще не откристаллизовавшихся в ясные осязаемые предметы. ‘Всюду звук и всюду свет’. ‘За Киевом показалось неслыханное чудо. Вдруг стало видимо во все концы света’. Подобными чудесами наполнена ‘Страшная месть’ Гоголя, и весь этот свет оказывается истечением зрачков колдуна и других героев повести: у них то и дело ‘из глаз вытягиваются железные клещи, и какие длинные! и горят, как огонь!’ Все они живут и движутся в атмосфере нерасторжимо перемешанных с явью снов, в атмосфере автоэротической зеркальности, символизируемой всеобнимающим фоном Днепра, который ‘будто весь вылит из стекла и будто голубая зеркальная дорога, без меры в ширину, без конца в длину реет и вьется’. В это безбрежное зеркало все глядится и не налюбуется светлым своим зраком’. ‘Все звезды разом отдаются в Днепре’ и сам он ‘виден за столько вдаль, за сколько может видеть человеческое око’. Днепр есть как бы вся ОВИДЬ ока, он — человечье око в состоянии эрекции — электромагнитного возбуждения: око, спаянное со своей овидью бесчисленностью моментов зеркального узнавания.
Впрочем, никто не смеет заглянуть в СЕРЕДИНУ Днепра, кроме солнца и голубого неба. Редкая птица долетит до середины Днепра. Страшен Днепр в бурю и горе тому, кого буря застигнет на середине Днепра: вся ‘Страшная месть’ и есть одна из днепровских бурь, а колдун, подобно Хоме Бруту и ряду других гоголевских героев, — человек, застигнутый бурей на середине Днепра, в центре, в узле средоточий волнений, в перекрестке всех зеркальных дорог, т.е. на полдороге к метаморфозе. {Проф. И.Д.Ермаков в своей статье о ‘Страшной мести’ подчеркивает в Днепре ‘загадочное существо’, живо откликающееся и отражающее все окружающее и придающее ему характер стихийной величавой широты. ‘Днепр’ — ‘новое местное божество’, ‘старый почитаемый прародитель’, ‘покровитель и хранитель казачества’. Днепр как бы образ родоначальника, т.е. вся стихия рода (связующая множество людей во времени), и вместе ‘гений места’ (стихия пространственной связи)**. Надо сказать, что род и родовая память, родовая передача всегда интересуют художника как организованный исторически ряд зеркальных отождествлений, преодолевающих грани времени (потомки узнают себя в предках). Все произведения, рисующие кризис рода (например, ‘Праматерь’ Грильпарцера, ‘Элексир сатаны’ Гофмана) — развивают эту тему. Последний в роде (художник) достигает ‘вершины горы’, откуда все видно, и в нем прорезывается ‘фаллический зрачок’, чья овидь уже не статическое (мнимое) трехмерное пространство, а динамическое четырехмерное с координатой времени. Зеркальное пространство Днепра — в трактовке Гоголя — должно символизировать именно это последнее.}
В напечатанном здесь произведении Б.Зименкова* мы имеем превосходную передачу сновидческой концепции циклопического, фаллического зрачка с подчеркиванием того момента испуга, который так ощутим у Гоголя и который обусловлен наличностью Эдипова комплекса. Испуг проистекает из продолжающейся установки организма на осязание, на материальную непроницаемость предмета в тот миг, когда (с эрекцией зрачка) примат ориентировки перешел или должен перейти к ЗРЕНИЮ: ничего непроницаемого не стало. Не на что опереться. ‘Не ужасное ли это явление — жизнь без подпоры прочной’ — гласит одна из черновых заметок Гоголя. Из психоанализа мы узнаем, чем обусловлен выбор сексуального объекта по типу ОПОРЫ: он связан с влечением ребенка к матери, с представлением материнской груди, с периодом оральной эротики. Этот тип наиболее характерен для мужской психики. Противоположный ему тип выбора объекта по принципу ОТОЖДЕСТВЛЕНИЯ связан с более поздней стадией развития, с восприятием отцовского (или хотя бы материнского) ЛИЦА, с различением, с зрением, с зеркальным узнаванием себя в объекте. В первом случае коренной органический автоэротизм сдавлен, ограничен, вытеснен, не осознан, во втором — его права в той или иной мере признаны и учтены. Можно сказать, что искание ОПОРЫ есть установка на осязание, стремление же к отождествлению диктуется установкой на зрение. В первом случае доверие и влечение к тьме, во втором — к свету. Можно было бы утверждать, что из комплекса опоры является источник того вида влечений, которые Фрейд в одной из последних работ (‘По ту сторону принципа удовольствия’) предложил назвать ‘влечением к смерти’ (антиэротическими), противополагая их ЭРОТИЧЕСКИМ. Не углубляясь в этот вопрос, заслуживающий специального исследования, укажем лишь, что не случайно именно САМООСЛЕПЛЕНИЕ Эдипа, лишение очей, а не какой-либо другой вид органодеекции символизирует погружение в хаос осязательных восприятий, где ТЬМА и МАТЬ тождественны: ‘Вечная там тьма — мать’ (‘Сказ’ А.Чичерина). В этом смысле Эдип и представлялся всегда обобщающим образом подверженного страсти и смерти человека.
‘Не так ли око — человек,
Ночь, из твоих глубин взыграет…
Увидит мать и слеп сгорает
В кровосмешеньи древних нег’ (В.Иванов)
Увидеть мать (или отождествить увиденное не с собой, а с матерью, материей — внешней безличной средой, на которую можно опереться), это и значит — не использовать умело момента прозрения, ослепнуть снова.
When he reached the bottom, it was like another earth. He looked about, and saw that every bush had, instead of leaves, small copper bells, and the tussocks were covered with sableskin instead of moss. ‘What a fine place!’ thought the man, and he walked onward along the beaten track. After a while, he came to a river. On the other shore stood a tent of Lamut type, {The Lamut cover their tents with well curried reindeer sktn. The Tundra Yukaghir use partly birch bark, partly reindeer skin clipped short and well smoked, bought chiefly from the Chukchee.} made of silver. He came nearer and heard voices within. So he entered.
A woman lay on the bed of skins, moaning with pain. Two strong men were sitting by her, right and left. The men jumped up and laid hands upon the visitor. They shouted, ‘This man has killed our sister!’ And they wanted to kill him on the spot, but the woman said, ‘Do not kill him! He did me no harm. His wife killed me.’ He looked at her more closely. An arrow was sticking out from her heart, and the woman was ashen from pain. She moaned pitifully, and said, ‘Bring him nearer!’ They brought him close to the woman, and he took his place by her bed. She cried, and he cried with her. He wanted to pull out the arrow, but the woman said, ‘ Leave it alone! .1 shall die at your first touch. But if you want to restore me to life, go off across two stretches of land. In the third country you will see a silver hill and three she-storks are playing on it. You must creep close to them, and catch one of them. Then you must bring her to me.’
He set off, and after passing through these two countries he saw the silver hill. Three she-storks were playing on the hill, and amusing themselves with their stork-play. He tried to creep nearer, but after some time the storks noticed him. He fell to the ground full of despair, and in his despair he turned into a little shrew. Then he heard the storks talking to one another, plainly, in the Lamut language. The youngest one raised herself on her long legs, stretched her neck, and asked, ‘O sisters! where is that man? And what is coming now, so small and mouse-like?’ The other said, ‘Why do you stretch your neck in such a manner? This is no man at all. Otherwise we should have noticed him sooner than you.’ They flew up and circled around the hill.
In the meantime, the man had reached the top of the hill. The storks descended again, but the youngest said, ‘Ah! my heart misgives me. This man is hidden somewhere.’ But the two others retorted, ‘Ah, nonsense! We should have noticed him sooner than you.’ The two eldest ones descended to the hill, the third was still circling around in the air. All at once the shrew turned into a man, who caught one of the storks by her long leg. ‘Ah, ah, ah!’ blubbered the stork, ‘and how does our other sister at home fare? Is she still living, or is she dead?’ He told them everything. They were greatly moved and said, ‘Go home, and we will follow you.’ He went home, and the three storks followed him on high, with much talking and many songs. He reached the house and entered it, but the storks were circling on high, singing their incantations. They wanted to pull out the arrow. The oldest said to the youngest, ‘Do try and pull out the arrow!’ — ‘You are older than I. You have more skill than I.’—‘No, we are unable to pull it out. Do try to get it out!’ Then the youngest stork flew upward, and for a moment stood still directly over the vent hole of the silver tent. Then she dropped down like a stone, and when half way down, she soared up again. They looked up, and the arrow was in her beak.
The patient sat up directly and wiped away the tears of pain. Then she said, ‘Indeed, our youngest sister is a shaman.’ She entered the house, and also praised the man. ‘Your heart is true. Will you take me for your wife?’ He took her for his wife, and on the bridal night they slept in the silver tent, and the three female storks were circling above all night long, keeping watch over them and singing incantations. In the morning, the storks said to their two brothers, ‘ You must send our brother-in-law, together with his wife, back to his home.’—‘All right,’ said the brothers. ‘ Let them stay here for one day more, and then we will get them ready for the trip, but you must fly first, and see that everything in their home is in order.’
The storks flew off, and came to his house, and that very evening they came back. The man said to them, ‘How shall we go home? I have great fear for my young bride.’ The storks answered^ ‘Have no fear. We caught your old wife, and threw her into the sea. She turned into a big sea-worm.’ The next morning they started on their journey, and the youngest stork warned them, ‘Be sure not to sleep on the way!’ They moved on, he in front, and his young bride close behind him, both on reindeer-back. Half way along he was overpowered with sleep. Do what he would, he could not keep awake, and at last he fell from the saddle like one dead. The wife tried to wake him and said, ‘Did not our sisters warn us against sleeping in the way?’ But he did not hear her words.
In the meantime, while she was busy over him, nudging him, and pulling him up, a big Eagle-Man with two heads came, and shouted, ‘I have been making suit for her since her earliest years.’ The Eagle-Man caught her by her tresses and threw her upon his back. Then he flew off, and carried her along. After a while the man awoke, and his wife was nowhere to be seen. He cried from grief, and then looked around. No trace was left upon the snow, he saw only their own tracks made when they were coming to that place.
The three storks arrived. The youngest one said, ‘Did we not tell you not to go to sleep? Now what is to be done? The giant Eagle-Man is the mightiest of all creatures. They flew away in pursuit of the Eagle-Man. The young man followed behind on foot. After a while they overtook the Eagle. He was flying on, carrying the woman. Then the two elder storks told the youngest one, ‘Why, sister, we can do nothing. You alone must try your skill and good luck. All we can do is to aid your efforts.’ ‘I will try,’ said the youngest stork. She flew straight upwards, and vanished from sight. Then she fell straight down upon the Eagle, and snatched the young woman from his talons, and he still flew onward, noticing nothing at all. The youngest stork put the young woman upon her back and carried her back to her husband. They prepared for the journey again. The youngest stork said, ‘Now, you must go home. Nothing evil will befall you. You shall live there in wealth and good health. Children shall be born unto you every year. Take our blessing and go away.’ They went on, and came to their country. There they saw that the silver Lamut tent was standing in their own place. They entered. They lived happily and quietly.
Told by Innocent Karyakin, a Tundra Yukaghir man, on the western tundra of the Kolyma country, winter of 1895.
1 Cf. Bogoras, ‘Chukchee Texts’, (Publications, Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. 
175.
There was a Tungus man who had a large reindeer herd, and no son at all. One time he came to his herd, and saw that a doe had brought forth a fawn which looked quite human. ‘What is this?’ asked the man. ‘This is a small boy,’ said the doe. ‘ I brought forth for you. Take him and have him for a son.’ The Tungus took the boy, who grew up quickly. Every day he would swallow live reindeer,— one in the morning, another at noon, and still another in the evening,— three meals a day, three living reindeer. So this man, who was rich in reindeer, soon had almost none at all, and was poor. Then he felt afraid, and said to himself, ‘He will finish the reindeer-herd, and next it will be my turn.’ He left his house and goods, and fled away, not knowing where he was going. He walked on for a long time. Then he saw an iron house.
In the house was a very pretty girl, so pretty that all the food she swallowed was visible though her transparent body. {This detail is borrowed from Yakut folklore in which it is frequently met. See also Radloff, l. c., vol. 1, 11.— F. B.} He thought in his mind, ‘Oh, I wish I had a wife like that girl!’ And she answered immediately, ‘Really, you wish it?’ She knew his thoughts, though he had not uttered a single word. She called him in and gave him food and drink. Then they lay down to sleep together. He stayed in that iron house three days and three nights. On the fourth morning his wife said, ‘It seems that you are a runaway.’ He said, ‘Maybe I am.’ — ‘From whom were you running? I wish you would tell me the truth.’ Then he said, ‘I took a foster child from the herd, Reindeer-Born, and I .was afraid he would eat me up, together with my last reindeer.’ — ‘All right,’ said the woman,’ have no more fear! Go back to your home. Here, take this neckerchief, and if the Reindeer-born should see you and should pursue you, run to some tree and hide behind it. Reindeer-born will not be able to catch you. And if Reindeer-born should not desist, touch the tree with this neckerchief.’
The man went back and came to his house. All at once he saw Reindeer-born, who rushed straight for him. The man turned about and ran for his life. He came to a tree, and hid behind it. Reindeer-born gave chase, and ran straight into the tree, striking his forehead against it with all his might. ‘Ah!’ said Reindeer-born, ‘Your strength is greater than mine. I cannot make you fall.’ In the meantime the man took the neckerchief and touched the tree with it, and instantly the kerchief turned into iron, and its outward shape was similar to that of a saw. This saw sawed at the tree and cut it down. The tree fell and struck Reindeer-born directly upon the head. It broke his head as if it had been an egg-shell, and killed him outright. The man returned to the iron house and lived there, having the young woman as a wife.
