Serbian Folk-lore

by Unknown

In Serbia there is a curious distinction in the use of prose and rhythm in these folk-stories. Prose is the vehicle for tales related by women; rhythm the prerogative of men. Prose stories are usually told in the domestic circle, and in gatherings of women at Selo or Prelo. During the summer evenings when field labour and household occupations have come to a close, it was, and indeed still is, customary in Serbian villages for young girls, accompanied by some older female friends, to gather in groups under the branches of some wide-spreading tree, and then, whilst the younger people occupy themselves in spinning, some of the older women interest the rest of the company by relating these traditionary stories. Men are excluded from these gatherings, and the story-telling which fills up the chief part of these evenings is looked on as exclusively a feminine occupation. These stories are always in prose.

There are, indeed, men story-tellers. Their tales or stories, however, invariably assume the character of poems, and they are generally—indeed almost always—accompanied by the monotonous sounds of the “gusle.” Generally speaking, these poems relate to historical or mythical incidents in the life of the nation; though sometimes they are of the same kind as the folk-tales which are given in this volume, and which are related in the feminine circle. When this is the case the distinction already noted is, however, strictly observed. The folk-tale related by a woman is in prose; the same tale told by a man is cast into the form of a poem. Even the purely Christian legends, of which the reader is presented in this volume with a specimen popular in Bosnia and the Herzégovina, ‘The Legend of St. George,’ is related with the aid of rhythm. Legends of the latter kind may have been, as some suppose, originally related by priests in their churches, and possibly in prose. Now, however, that they have passed into the possession of the professional story-tellers they have put on the masculine garb of verse. This Homeric feature of Serb customs is indeed now dying out with other national peculiarities. It is, however, far from being dead, nor are such verses employed only in celebrating the glories of the reign of Stephen Dushan, the heroism of George Brankovich, or the mournful defeat of Kossovo. Long tedious debates in the National Parliament, or Skoupshtina, of 1870, on the liberty of opening and keeping shops in villages as distinguished from towns, were summed up and reported throughout the country in a way which would astonish the readers of the debates in our English Parliament. The whole discussion, with the arguments of the various speakers, took the form of a long song or poem, which was recited in the open air before the villagers assembled to hear the course and result of the debate. Perhaps in a similar manner the military and naval incidents, the contentions of mighty chiefs, the debates before the tent of Agamemnon, or in the council-house of Troy, were thrown into verse by the Father of poetry, the Prince of story-tellers, or, if the reader holds to the Wolfian theory, by the professional rhapsodists, and thus made known throughout Greece in the form of the Iliad. At any rate we have, in the practice still living in Serbia, an instance of the way in which a Serbian Homer would naturally have communicated to his countrymen all the details of meetings at the council-board and skirmishes in the plain which diversified the history of a siege, in the varying fortunes of which their interest was enlisted.

W. Denton.

THE BEAR’S SON.

ONCE upon a time a bear married a woman, and they had one son. When the boy was yet a little fellow he begged very hard to be allowed to leave the bear’s cave, and to go out into the world to see what was in it. His father, however, the Bear, would not consent to this, saying, ‘You are too young yet, and not strong enough. In the world there are multitudes of wicked beasts, called men, who will kill you.’ So the boy was quieted for a while, and remained in the cave.

But, after some time, the boy prayed so earnestly that the Bear, his father, would let him go into the world, that the Bear brought him into the wood, and showed him a beech-tree, saying, ‘If you can pull up that beech by the roots, I will let you go; but if you cannot, then this is a proof that you are still too weak, and must remain with me.’ The boy tried to pull up the tree, but, after long trying, had to give it up, and go home again to the cave.

Again some time passed, and he then begged again to be allowed to go into the world, and his father told him, as before, if he could pull up the beech-tree he might go out into the world. This time the boy pulled up the tree, so the Bear consented to let him go, first, however, making him cut away the branches from the beech, so that he might use the trunk for a club. The boy now started on his journey, carrying the trunk of the beech over his shoulder.

One day as the Bear’s son was journeying, he came to a field where he found hundreds of ploughmen working for their master. He asked them to give him something to eat, and they told him to wait a bit till their dinner was brought them, when he should have some—for, they said, ‘Where so many are dining one mouth more or less matters but little.’ Whilst they were speaking there came carts, horses, mules, and asses, all carrying the dinner. But when the meats were spread out the Bear’s son declared he could eat all that up himself. The workmen wondered greatly at his words, not believing it possible that one man could consume as great a quantity of victuals as would satisfy several hundred men. This, however, the Bear’s son persisted in affirming he could do, and offered to bet with them that he would do this. He proposed that the stakes should be all the iron of their ploughshares and other agricultural implements. To this they assented. No sooner had they made the wager than he fell upon the provisions, and in a short time consumed the whole. Not a fragment was left. Hereupon the labourers, in accordance with their wager, gave him all the iron which they possessed.

When the Bear’s son had collected all the iron, he tore up a young birch-tree, twisted it into a band and tied up the iron into a bundle, which he hung at the end of his staff, and throwing it across his shoulder, trudged off from the astonished and affrighted labourers.