The Story of Misery Luckless-Plight, How That Misery Luckless-Plight Caused a Youth to Turn Monk. (XVII. or XVIII. century.)
This beautiful story was found in a manuscript collection of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It consists of two parts: the first is an apocryphal account of the fall of man, with the customary substitution of the grapevine for the apple-tree, in order to inculcate abstinence from the bowl; the second part, relating the pursuit of the young man by the demon Misery Luckless-Plight, bears every evidence of popular origin. The dramatic element of the story, the symbolic account of the pursuit in the shape of animals, the parallelism of phrases, are all devices which recur in the popular tales, from the Word of Ígor’s Armament to the present time.
By the will of the Lord our God and Saviour, Jesus Christ, who encompasses all, from the beginning of the human race.
In the beginning of this perishable world, God created heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve. He ordered them to live in holy paradise, and gave them this divine command: He told them not to eat the fruit of the grapevine, from the great tree of Eden. But the human heart is unthinking and irresistible, and Adam and Eve were tempted. They forgot God’s command, ate of the fruit of the grapevine, from the great and wonderful tree, and for that great transgression of theirs God was wroth with Adam and Eve and drove them out of the holy Edenic paradise. He settled them upon the low earth, blessed them to grow and multiply, and told them to appease their hunger through their own labour from the fruits upon earth.... God gave them this commandment: there should be marriages, for the propagation of the race of men and for beloved children.
But the human race was evil: from the very start it was not submissive, looked with disdain at the father’s instruction, did not obey the mother, was untrue to the advice of friends. Then there came a weak and wretched race that turned to reckless deeds, and began to live in turmoil and wrong, and discarded humility of spirit. And God grew wroth with them, and sent great calamities down upon them, and great misery, and immeasurable shame, evil plight, fiendish visitations, a wretched nakedness, and endless poverty and extreme want, in order to humble us, to punish us, to lead us on the path of salvation. Such is the race of man from its father and mother.
The youth had reached the age of discretion and absence of wantonness. His father and mother loved him much, and they began to teach and instruct him, to prepare him for good deeds:
“Dear child of ours, listen to your parents’ words of instruction, listen to their saws, the good and cunning and wise, and you will not be in want, you will not be in great poverty. Go not, child, to feasts and celebrations; do not seat yourself on a high place; drink not two beakers at once; be not tempted by good, fair maidens, fathers’ daughters. Lie not down in the wilderness. Fear not the wise man, fear the fool, lest the fools lay hands on you and take off your costly garments, and cause you great shame and aggravation, and expose you to the scorn and empty prattle of men. Go not, my child, to the dice-players and innkeepers, and keep no company with the frequenters of the tavern. Make no friends with the foolish and simple. Steal not, rob not, nor deceive, nor tell a lie, nor do wrong. Be not tempted by gold and silver; collect not unrighteous wealth. Be not a witness to false swearing, and think no evil of father and mother, or any other man,—that God may protect you from all evil. Dishonour not, child, the rich and the poor, but regard them all alike. Keep company with the wise and sensible, and make friends with friends you may rely upon, who will not deliver you to evil.”
The youth was then young and foolish, not in his full senses and imperfect in mind: he was ashamed to submit to his father and bow before his mother, but wanted to live as he listed. If the youth earned fifty roubles, he found easily fifty friends, and his honour flowed like a river: the youth gained many friends for himself, and they accounted themselves of his race.
And the youth had a trusted friend: he named himself his plighted brother, and he tempted him with tempting words; he called him to the tavern yard, led him into the hall of the inn, brought him a cup of green wine, handed him a beaker of heady beer, and spoke to him the following words:
“Drink, plighted brother of mine, to your joy, and happiness, and health. Empty the cup of green wine, and follow it by a glass of sweet mead. And if you drink, brother, until you be drunk, lie down to sleep where you have drunk,—depend upon me, your plighted brother. I shall sit down and keep watch over you: at your head, dear friend, I shall place a beaker of sweet Ishem wine, by your side I shall place green wine, and near you I shall place heady beer. I shall watch well over you, dear friend, and shall take you back to your father and mother.”
At that time the youth depended on his plighted brother; he did not wish to disobey him. He settled himself near the heady drinks, and emptied a cup of green wine, followed it by a glass of sweet mead, and he drank also the heady beer. He drank until he lost his senses, and where he had drunk, there he fell asleep: he depended upon his plighted brother.
The day was inclining towards night, and the sun was in the west, when the youth awoke from his sleep. The youth looked all around him: all the costly garments had been taken away from him, his shoes and stockings were all gone, his shirt even was taken from him, and all his property was stolen. A brick was lying under his unruly head; he was covered with a tavern sackcloth, and at his feet lay ragged sandals; at his head his dear friend was no more. And the youth stood up on his bare feet, and began to clothe himself: he put on the ragged sandals, covered himself with the tavern sackcloth, covered his white body, and washed his white face. Sorrow entered the youth’s heart, and he spoke the following words:
“Though God has granted me a good life, I have now nothing to eat or drink! Since my money is gone, even the last half-farthing, I have not a friend, not even half a friend. They no longer account themselves of my race, all my friends have disappeared!”
The youth felt ashamed to show himself before father and mother, and his race and family, and to his former friends. He went into a strange, distant, unknown land. He found a court, a town in size, and a house in that court, a palace in height. In that house was given a splendid feast: the guests drank, ate and made merry. The youth came to the splendid feast, made the sign of the cross over his white face, bowed before the wonderful images, made his obeisance to the good people on all four sides. And when the good people saw the youth, how well he made the sign of the cross, how he acted according to the written rule, they took him by the hands, seated him at the oaken table, not in a great place, nor in a small, they seated him in a middle place, where the younger guests are seated. And the feast was a merry one, and all the guests at the feast were drunk and merry and boastful; but the youth sat, not merry at all, gloomy, sorrowful, joyless, and neither ate, nor drank, nor made merry, nor boasted of anything at the feast. Said the good people to the youth:
“Wherefore, O good youth, do you sit, not merry at the feast, gloomy, sorrowful, joyless; you neither drink, nor make merry, nor boast of anything at the feast? Or has the cup of green wine not reached you, or is not your seat according to your father’s worth? Or have small children insulted you? Or foolish and unwise people made light of you, youth? Or are our children not kind to you?”
But the good youth remained sitting and said:
“Gentlemen and good people! I will tell you of my great misfortune, of my disobedience to my parents, of my drinking at the inn the cup of mead, the tempting drinking of heady wine. When I took to drinking the heady wine, I disobeyed both father and mother: their blessing departed from me; the Lord grew wroth with me, and to my poverty were added many great and incurable sorrows and sadness without comfort, want, and misery, and extreme wretchedness. Want has tamed my flowery speech; sadness has dried up my white body. For this my heart is not merry, and my white face is sad, and my eyes dim. I have lost my paternal honour, and my youthful valour has left me. Gentlemen and good people! Tell me and teach me how to live in a strange land, among strange people, and how to find dear friends!”
Said the good people to the youth:
“You are a sensible youth! Be not haughty in a strange land: submit to friend and foe, bow to old and young, tell not of the affairs of others, neither what you hear, nor see. Flatter not friends nor enemies; have no tortuous fits, nor bend as a cunning snake; be humble before all, but withal keep to truth and right,—and you will have great honour and glory. When people will find you out, they will respect and honour you for your great truth, your humility and wisdom;—and you will have dear friends, who will call themselves your plighted brothers.”
And the youth went hence into a strange land, and began to live wisely, and through his great wisdom acquired greater wealth than before. He looked out for a bride according to custom, for he wished to marry. The youth prepared a splendid feast, according to his father’s worth and as best he knew, and invited the honoured guests and friends. But through his own sin, by God’s will and the devil’s temptation, he boasted before his honoured guests and friends and plighted brothers. A boastful word is always rotten, and self-praise brings the destruction of man: “I, the youth, have gained more possessions than ever!”
Misery Luckless-Plight heard the young man’s boasting, and spoke the following words:
“Young man, boast not of your fortune, praise not your wealth! I, Misery, have known people who were wiser and richer than you, but I, Misery, have outwitted them. When a great misfortune befell them, they struggled with me unto their death; they were worsted by their luckless plight,—could not get away from me, Misery, until they took their abode in the grave, and I covered them for ever with the earth. Only then they were rid of nakedness, and I, Misery, left them, though luckless plight remained upon their grave!” And again it cawed ominously: “I, Misery, attached myself to others, for I, Misery Luckless-Plight, cannot live empty-handed: I, Misery, wish to live among people, from whom I cannot be driven away with a whip; but my chief seat and paternal home is among the carousers!”
Spoke grey Misery the miserable:
“How am I to get at the youth?” and evil Misery devised cunningly to appear to the youth in his dream:
“Young man, renounce your beloved bride, for you will be poisoned by your bride; you will be strangled by that woman; you will be killed for your gold and silver! Go, young man, to the Tsar’s tavern: save nothing, but spend all your wealth in drink; doff your costly dress, put on the tavern sackcloth. In the tavern Misery will remain, and evil Luckless-Plight will stay,—for Misery will not gallop after a naked one, nor will anyone annoy a naked man, nor has assault any terrors for a bare-footed man.”
The young man did not believe his dream, but evil Misery again devised a plan, and stuck once more to the youth for a new luckless plight:
“Are you not, youth, acquainted with immeasurable nakedness, and its great lightness and inexpensiveness? What you buy for yourself is money spent, but you are a brave fellow, and can live without expense! They do not beat, nor torture naked people, nor drive them out of paradise, nor drag them down from the other world; nor will anyone annoy a naked man, nor has assault any terrors for a naked man!”
The young man believed that dream: he went and spent all his wealth in drink; he doffed his costly dress, put on the tavern sackcloth, covered his white body. The youth felt ashamed to show himself to his dear friends. He went into a strange, distant, unknown land. On his way he came to a swift river. On the other side were the ferrymen, and they asked for money to ferry him across; but the youth had none to give, and without money they would not take him across. The youth sat a whole day, until evening, and all that day the youth had nothing to eat, not even half a piece of bread. The young man arose on his swift feet, and standing he fell to grieving, and he spoke the following words:
“Woe to me, miserable Luckless-Plight! It has overtaken me, young man, has starved me, young man, with a hungry death. Three unlucky days have I passed, for I, young man, have not eaten half a piece of bread! I, young man, will jump into the swift river: swallow my body, swift river! And eat, O fish, my white body! And that will be better than my shameful life, for I have fallen into the hands of Misery Luckless-Plight.”
At that hour Misery leaped from behind a rock near the swift river: Misery was bare-footed and naked, and there was not a thread upon it, and it was girded with a bast thong, and it called out with a mighty voice:
“Wait, young man, you will not escape from me, Misery! Jump not into the swift river, nor be in your misery doleful! Though you live in misery, you need not be doleful, but let your dolefulness die in misery! Remember, young man, your former life: how your father spoke to you, and your mother instructed you! Why did you not then obey them? You would not submit to them, and were ashamed to bow to them, but wanted to live as you listed! But he who will not listen to the good teaching of his parents will learn from me, Misery Luckless-Plight!”
Luckless-Plight spoke the following words:
“Submit to me, impure Misery; bow before me, Misery, to the damp earth, for there is no one wiser in the whole world than I, Misery; and you will be ferried across the swift river, and the good people will give you to eat and drink.”
The young man saw his inevitable calamity, and he submitted to impure Misery, bowed before Misery to the damp earth!
The good fellow went ahead with a light step over the beautiful fair bank, over the yellow sand. He went happy, not at all doleful, for he had appeased Misery Luckless-Plight. And as he went, he thought a thought: Since I have nothing, I need not worry about anything! And as the youth was not sorrowful, he started a fair song, a mighty, sensible song it was:
“Sorrowless mother has borne me; with a comb she combed my little locks, dressed me in costly garments, and stepping aside shaded her eyes and looked at me: ‘Does my child look well in costly garments? In costly garments my child is a priceless child!’ Thus my mother always spoke of me! And then I learned and know it well that a scarlet gown cannot be made without a master, nor a child be comforted without a mother, nor a drunkard ever become rich, nor a dice-player be in good renown; and I was taught by my parents to be a well-dressed boy, who was born devoid of everything.”
The ferrymen heard the good fellow’s song, took the young man across the swift river, and took nothing from him for the ferrying. The good people gave him to drink and to eat, took off his tavern sackcloth, gave him peasant’s clothes, and spoke to him:
“You are a good fellow, so go to your home, to your beloved, respected parents, to your father and mother dear, greet your parents, father and mother, and receive from them the parental blessing!”
From there the youth went to his home. When he was in the open field, evil Misery had gone before him; it met the youth in the open field, and began to caw above the youth, like an ill-omened crow above a falcon. Misery spoke the following words:
“Wait! you have not gone away from me, good fellow! Not merely for a time have I, Misery Luckless-Plight, attached myself to you; I shall labour with you to your very death! And not I, Misery, alone, but all my family, and there is a goodly race of them: we are all gentle and insinuating, and he who joins our family will end his days among us! Such is the fate that awaits you with us. Even if you were to be a bird of the air, or if you went into the blue sea as a fish, I would follow you at your right hand.”
The youth flew as a clear falcon, and Misery after him as a white gerfalcon; the youth flew as a steel-blue dove, and Misery after him as a grey hawk; the youth went into the field as a grey wolf, and Misery after him with hounds; the youth became the steppe-grass in the field, and Misery came with a sharp scythe, and Luckless-Plight railed at him:
“You, little grass, will be cut down; you, little grass, will lie on the ground, and the boisterous winds will scatter you!”
The youth went as a fish into the sea, and Misery after him with close-meshed nets, and Misery Luckless-Plight railed at him:
“You, little fish, will be caught at the shore, and you will be eaten up and die a useless death!”
The youth went on foot along the road, and Misery at his right hand. It taught the youth to live as a rich man, by killing and robbing, so that they might hang the young man for it, or might put him with a stone in the water. The youth bethought himself of the road of salvation, and at once the youth went to a monastery to be shorn a monk, and Misery stopped at the holy gates,—no longer clung to the youth.
And this is the end of the story: Lord, preserve us from eternal torment, and give us, O Lord, the light of paradise! For ever and ever, amen!