The Child and Childhood in Folk-Thought by Alexander F. Chamberlain (book recommendations based on other books .txt) 📕

girls—who go to sleep during the day, and are therefore not seen of men (498. 92). The sun is termed chä‘n’a bo’do, “Mother Sun”; the moon, mai’a ‘o-gar, “Mr. Moon” (498. 59). In many other mythologies the stars, either as a whole, or in part, figure as children. In the figurative language of ancient records the patriarchs are promised descendants as numerous as the stars of heaven, and in the Tshi language of Western Africa, the stars are termed woh-rabbah, from woh, “to breed, multiply, be fruitful,” and abbah, “children.” The South Australian natives thought the stars were groups of children, and even in the classic legends of Greece and Rome more than one child left earth to shine in heaven as a star.

In the belief of the natives of the Hervey Islands, in the South Pacific, the double star µ¹ and µ² Scorpii is a brother and sister, twins, who, fleeing from a scolding mother, leapt up into the sky. The bright stars [Greek: m] and [Greek: l] Scorpii are their angry parents who follow in pursuit, but never succeed in overtaking their runaway children, who, clinging close together,—for they were very fond of each other,—flee on and on through the blue sky. The girl, who is the elder, is called Inseparable, and Mr. Gill tells us that a native preacher, alluding to this favourite story, declared, with a happy turn of speech, that “Christ and the Christian should be like these twin stars, ever linked together, come life, come death.” He could scarcely have chosen a more appropriate figure. The older faith that was dying lent the moral of its story to point the eloquence of the new (458. 40-43).

 

Hindu Child-Heroes.

In the Rig-Veda we have the story of the three brothers, the youngest of whom, Tritas, is quite a child, but accomplishes wonderful things and evinces more than human knowledge; also the tale of Vikramâdityas, the wise child (422. II. 136).

In the interesting collection of Bengalese folktales by Rev. Lal Behari Day we find much that touches upon childhood: The story of the “Boy whom Seven Mothers Suckled,” and his wonderful deeds in the country of the Rakshasis (cannibals)—how he obtained the bird with whose life was bound up that of the wicked queen, and so brought about her death; the tale of the “Boy with the Moon on his Forehead”—how he rescued the beautiful Lady Pushpavati from the power of the Rakshasis over-sea! We have also the wonder-tales of Buddha.

In a tale of the Panjâb, noted by Temple (542. II. xvi.), “a couple of gods, as children, eat up at a sitting a meal meant for 250,000 people”; and in a Little Russian story “a mother had a baby of extraordinary habits. When alone, he jumped out of the cradle, no longer a baby, but a bearded old man, gobbled up the food out of the store, and then lay down again a screeching babe.” He was finally exorcised (258. 119). A huge appetite is a frequent characteristic of changelings in fairy-stories

(258.108).

 

Japanese Child-Heroes.

The hero of Japanese boys is Kintaro, the “Wild Baby,” the “Golden Darling.” Companionless he played with the animals, put his arm around their necks, and rode upon their backs. Of him we are told: “He was prince of the forest; the rabbits, wild boars, squirrels and pheasants and hawks, were his servants and messengers.” He is the apotheosis of the child in Japan, “the land of the holy gods,” as its natives proudly termed it (245.121).

Another boy-hero is Urashima, who visited Elysium in a fishing-boat. A third phenomenal child of Japanese story is “Peach Darling,” who, while yet a baby, lifted the wash-tub and balanced the kettle on his head (245. 62). We must remember, however, that the Japanese call their beautiful country “the land of the holy gods,” and the whole nation makes claim to a divine ancestry. Visits to the other world, the elfin-land, etc., are found all over the world.

 

German.

In Germany and Austria we have the stories of (258. 140-160): The girl who stole the serpent-king’s crown; the Pomeranian farmer’s boy who, after quenching his thirst with the brown beer of the fairies, tried to run off with the can of pure silver in which it was contained (in a Cornish legend, however, the farmer’s boy pockets one of the rich silver goblets which stood on the tables in the palace of the king of the piskies, or fairies, and proves the truth of the story he has afterwards to tell by producing the goblet, “which remained in the boy’s family for generations, though unfortunately it is no longer forthcoming for the satisfaction of those who may still be sceptical.” A like origin has been suggested for the celebrated “Luck of Edenhall,” and the “Horn of Oldenburg,” and other like relics); the Carinthian girl, who, climbing a mountain during the noon-hour, entered through a door in the rock, and remained away a whole year, though it seemed but a little while; the baker’s boy who visited the lost Emperor in the mountain—the Barbarossa-Otto legend; the baker’s daughter of Ruffach, who made her father rich by selling bread to the soldiers in a great subterranean camp; the girl of Silesia, who is admitted into a cavern, where abides a buried army; and many more of a similar nature, to be read in Grimm and the other chroniclers of fairy-land (258. 216. 217).

Among the Danish legends of kindred type we find the tales of: The boy who ran off with the horn out of which an elf-maiden offered him a drink, and would not return it until she had promised to bestow upon him the strength of twelve men, with which, unluckily, went also the appetite of twelve men (258. 144).

 

Celtic.

Among the Welsh tales of the child as hero and adventurer are: The visit of Elidorus (afterwards a priest), when twelve years old, to the underground country, where he stole a golden ball, which, however, the pigmies soon recovered; the youths who were drawn into the fairies’ ring and kept dancing for a year and a day until reduced to a mere skeleton; the little farmer’s son, who was away among the fairies for two years, though he thought he had been absent but a day; corresponding is the Breton tale of the girl who acts as godmother to a fairy child, and remains away for ten long years, though for only two days in her own mind (258. 135, 136, 168, 170).

Very interesting is the Breton legend of the youth who undertook to take a letter to God,—_Monsieur le Bon Dieu_,—in Paradise. When he reaches Paradise, he gives the letter to St. Peter, who proceeds to deliver it. While he is away, the youth, noticing the spectacles on the table, tries them on, and is astonished at the wonders he sees, and still more at the information given him by St. Peter on his return, that he has been gazing through them five hundred years. Another hundred years he passes in looking at the seat kept for him in Paradise, and then receives the answer to the letter, which he is to take to the parish priest. After distributing in alms the hundred crowns he is paid for his services, he dies and goes to Paradise to occupy the seat he has seen. As Mr. Hartland remarks, “the variants of this traditional Pilgrim’s Progress are known from Brittany to Transylvania, and from Iceland to Sicily” (258. 192).

 

Basque.

A remarkable child-hero tale is the Basque legend of the orphans, Izar (seven years old) and Lañoa (nine years old), and their adventures with Satan and the witches,—how Izar cured the Princess and killed the great toad which was the cause of her complaint, and how Lañoa defied Satan to his face, meeting death by his action, but gaining heaven (505. 19-41).

 

American Indian Child-Heroes.

In a legend of the Tlingit Indians concerning the visit of Ky’itlac’, a man who had killed himself, to the upper country ruled by Tahit, whither go such as die a violent death, we read that—

“When he looked down upon the earth, he saw the tops of the trees looking like so many pins. But he wished to return to the earth. He pulled his blanket over his head and flung himself down. He arrived at the earth unhurt, and found himself at the foot of some trees. Soon he discovered a small house, the door of which was covered with mats. He peeped into it, and heard a child crying that had just been born. He himself was that child, and when he came to be grown up he told the people of Tahit. They had heard about him before, but only then they learnt everything about the upper world” (403. 48, 49).

In a legend of the Kwakiutl Indians of Vancouver Island, a chief killed by a rival goes to the other world, but returns to earth in his grandson: “It was Ank-oa’lagyilis who was thus born again. The boy, when a few years old, cried and wanted to have a small boat made, and, when he had got it, asked for a bow and arrows. His father scolded him for having so many wishes. Then the boy said, ‘I was at one time your father, and have returned from heaven.’ His father did not believe him, but then the boy said, ‘You know that Ank-oa’lagyilis had gone to bury his property, and nobody knows where it is. I will show it to you.’ He took his father right to the place where it lay hidden, and bade him distribute it. There were two canoe-loads of blankets. Now the people knew that Ank’oa’lagyilis had returned. He said, ‘I was with ata [the deity], but he sent me back.’ They asked him to tell about heaven, but he refused to do so.” The boy afterwards became a chief, and it is said he refused to take revenge upon his murderer (404. 59).

In the mythology of the Siouan tribes we meet with the “Young Rabbit,” born of a piece of the clotted blood of the Buffalo killed by Grizzly Bear, which the Rabbit had stolen. According to legend the Rabbit “addressed the blood, calling it his son, and ordering it to become a little child, and when he had ordered it to advance from infancy, through boyhood to youth, and from youth to manhood, his commands were obeyed.” The “Young Rabbit” kills the Grizzly and delivers his own father

(480 (1892). 293-304).

 

The legend of the “Blood-clot Boy” is also recorded from the narration of the Blackfeet Indians by Bev. John MacLean and Mr. Grinnell. The tale of his origin is as follows: “There lived, a long time ago, an old man and his wife, who had three daughters and one son-in-law. One day, as the mother was cooking some meat, she threw a clot of blood into the pot containing the meat. The pot began to boil, and then there issued from it a peculiar hissing noise. The old woman looked into the pot, and was surprised to see that the blood-clot had become transformed into a little boy. Quickly he grew, and, in a few moments, he sprang from the pot, a full-grown young man.” Kûtoyîs, as the youth was named, became an expert hunter, and kept the family in food. He also killed his lazy and quarrelsome brother-in-law, and brought peace to the family. Of Kûtoyïs it is said he “sought to drive out all the evil in the world, and to unite the people and make them happy” (480(1893).167).

Concerning the Micmac Indians of Nova Scotia, Mr. Band informs us (521.xlii.):—

“Children exposed or lost by their parents are miraculously preserved. They grow up suddenly