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The Orange Fairy Book
Edited by Andrew Lang

Preface

The children who read fairy books, or have fairy books read to them, do
not read prefaces, and the parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, who
give fairy books to their daughters, nieces, and cousines, leave
prefaces unread. For whom, then, are prefaces written? When an author
publishes a book 'out of his own head,' he writes the preface for his
own pleasure. After reading over his book in print--to make sure that
all the 'u's' are not printed as 'n's,' and all the 'n's' as 'u's' in
the proper names--then the author says, mildly, in his preface, what he
thinks about his own book, and what he means it to prove--if he means
it to prove anything--and why it is not a better book than it is. But,
perhaps, nobody reads prefaces except other authors; and critics, who
hope that they will find enough in the preface to enable them to do
without reading any of the book.

This appears to be the philosophy of prefaces in general, and perhaps
authors might be more daring and candid than they are with advantage,
and write regular criticisms of their own books in their prefaces, for
nobody can be so good a critic of himself as the author--if he has a
sense of humour. If he has not, the less he says in his preface the
better.

These Fairy Books, however, are not written by the Editor, as he has
often explained, 'out of his own head.' The stories are taken from
those told by grannies to grandchildren in many countries and in many
languages-- French, Italian, Spanish, Catalan, Gaelic, Icelandic,
Cherokee, African, Indian, Australian, Slavonic, Eskimo, and what not.
The stories are not literal, or word by word translations, but have
been altered in many ways to make them suitable for children. Much has
been left out in places, and the narrative has been broken up into
conversations, the characters telling each other how matters stand, and
speaking for themselves, as children, and some older people, prefer
them to do. In many tales, fairly cruel and savage deeds are done, and
these have been softened down as much as possible; though it is
impossible, even if it were desirable, to conceal the circumstance that
popular stories were never intended to be tracts and nothing else.
Though they usually take the side of courage and kindness, and the
virtues in general, the old story-tellers admire successful cunning as
much as Homer does in the Odyssey. At least, if the cunning hero,
human or animal, is the weaker, like Odysseus, Brer Rabbit, and many
others, the story-teller sees little in intellect but superior cunning,
by which tiny Jack gets the better of the giants. In the fairy tales
of no country are 'improper' incidents common, which is to the credit
of human nature, as they were obviously composed mainly for children.
It is not difficult to get rid of this element when it does occur in
popular tales.

The old puzzle remains a puzzle--why do the stories of the remotest
people so closely resemble each other? Of course, in the immeasurable
past, they have been carried about by conquering races, and learned by
conquering races from vanquished peoples. Slaves carried far from home
brought their stories with them into captivity. Wanderers, travellers,
shipwrecked men, merchants, and wives stolen from alien tribes have
diffused the stories; gipsies and Jews have passed them about; Roman
soldiers of many different races, moved here and there about the
Empire, have trafficked in them. From the remotest days men have been
wanderers, and wherever they went their stories accompanied them. The
slave trade might take a Greek to Persia, a Persian to Greece; an
Egyptian woman to Phoenicia; a Babylonian to Egypt; a Scandinavian
child might be carried with the amber from the Baltic to the Adriatic;
or a Sidonian to Ophir, wherever Ophir may have been; while the
Portuguese may have borne their tales to South Africa, or to Asia, and
thence brought back other tales to Egypt. The stories wandered
wherever the Buddhist missionaries went, and the earliest French
voyageurs told them to the Red Indians. These facts help to account
for the sameness of the stories everywhere; and the uniformity of
human fancy in early societies must be the cause of many other
resemblances.

In this volume there are stories from the natives of Rhodesia,
collected by Mr. Fairbridge, who speaks the native language, and one is
brought by Mr. Cripps from another part of Africa, Uganda. Three tales
from the Punjaub were collected and translated by Major Campbell.
Various savage tales, which needed a good deal of editing, are derived
from the learned pages of the 'Journal of the Anthropological
Institute.' With these exceptions, and 'The Magic Book,' translated by
Mrs. Pedersen, from 'Eventyr fra Jylland,' by Mr. Ewald Tang Kristensen
(Stories from Jutland), all the tales have been done, from various
sources, by Mrs. Lang, who has modified, where it seemed desirable, all
the narratives.

CONTENTS

The Story of the Hero Makoma The Magic Mirror Story of the King who
would see Paradise How Isuro the Rabbit tricked Gudu Ian, the Soldier's
Son The Fox and the Wolf How Ian Direach got the Blue Falcon The Ugly
Duckling The Two Caskets The Goldsmith's Fortune The Enchanted Wreath
The Foolish Weaver The Clever Cat The Story of Manus Pinkel the Thief
The Adventures of a Jackal The Adventures of the Jachal's Eldest Son
The Adventures of the Younger Son of the Jackal The Three Treasures of
the Giants The Rover of the Plain The White Doe The Girl Fish The Owl
and the Eagle The Frog and the Lion Fairy The Adventures of Covan the
Brown-haired The Princess Bella-Flor The Bird of Truth The Mink and the
Wolf Adventures of an Indian Brave How the Stalos were Tricked Andras
Baive The White Slipper The Magic Book

The Orange Fairy Book

The Story of the Hero Makoma From the Senna (Oral
Tradition)

Once upon a time, at the town of Senna on the banks of the Zambesi, was
born a child. He was not like other children, for he was very tall and
strong; over his shoulder he carried a big sack, and in his hand an
iron hammer. He could also speak like a grown man, but usually he was
very silent.

One day his mother said to him: 'My child, by what name shall we know
you?'

And he answered: 'Call all the head men of Senna here to the river's
bank.' And his mother called the head men of the town, and when they
had come he led them down to a deep black pool in the river where all
the fierce crocodiles lived.

'O great men!' he said, while they all listened, 'which of you will
leap into the pool and overcome the crocodiles?' But no one would come
forward. So he turned and sprang into the water and disappeared.

The people held their breath, for they thought: 'Surely the boy is
bewitched and throws away his life, for the crocodiles will eat him!'
Then suddenly the ground trembled, and the pool, heaving and swirling,
became red with blood, and presently the boy rising to the surface swam
on shore.

But he was no longer just a boy! He was stronger than any man and very
tall and handsome, so that the people shouted with gladness when they
saw him.

'Now, O my people!' he cried, waving his hand, 'you know my name--I am
Makoma, "the Greater"; for have I not slain the crocodiles into the
pool where none would venture?'

Then he said to his mother: 'Rest gently, my mother, for I go to make a
home for myself and become a hero.' Then, entering his hut he took
Nu-endo, his iron hammer, and throwing the sack over his shoulder, he
went away.

Makoma crossed the Zambesi, and for many moons he wandered towards the
north and west until he came to a very hilly country where, one day, he
met a huge giant making mountains.

'Greeting,' shouted Makoma, 'you are you?'

'I am Chi-eswa-mapiri, who makes the mountains,' answered the giant;
'and who are you?'

'I am Makoma, which signifies "greater,"' answered he.

'Greater than who?' asked the giant.

'Greater than you!' answered Makoma.

The giant gave a roar and rushed upon him. Makoma said nothing, but
swinging his great hammer, Nu-endo, he struck the giant upon the head.

He struck him so hard a blow that the giant shrank into quite a little
man, who fell upon his knees saying: 'You are indeed greater than I, O
Makoma; take me with you to be your slave!' So Makoma picked him up
and dropped him into the sack that he carried upon his back.

He was greater than ever now, for all the giant's strength had gone
into him; and he resumed his journey, carrying his burden with as
little difficulty as an eagle might carry a hare.

Before long he came to a country broken up with huge stones and immense
clods of earth. Looking over one of the heaps he saw a giant wrapped
in dust dragging out the very earth and hurling it in handfuls on
either side of him.

'Who are you,' cried Makoma, 'that pulls up the earth in this way?'

'I am Chi-dubula-taka,' said he, 'and I am making the river-beds.'

'Do you know who I am?' said Makoma. 'I am he that is called
"greater"!'

'Greater than who?' thundered the giant.

'Greater than you!' answered Makoma.

With a shout, Chi-dubula-taka seized a great clod of earth and launched
it at Makoma. But the hero had his sack held over his left arm and the
stones and earth fell harmlessly upon it, and, tightly gripping his
iron hammer, he rushed in and struck the giant to the ground.
Chi-dubula-taka grovelled before him, all the while growing smaller and
smaller; and when he had become a convenient size Makoma picked him up
and put him into the sack beside Chi- eswa-mapiri.

He went on his way even greater than before, as all the river-maker's
power had become his; and at last he came to a forest of bao- babs and
thorn trees. He was astonished at their size, for every one was full
grown and larger than any trees he had ever seen, and close by he saw
Chi-gwisa-miti, the giant who was planting the forest.

Chi-gwisa-miti was taller than either of his brothers, but Makoma was
not afraid, and called out to him: 'Who are you, O Big One?'

'I,' said the giant, 'am Chi-gwisa-miti, and I am planting these
bao-babs and thorns as food for my children the elephants.'

'Leave off!' shouted the hero, 'for I am Makoma, and would like to
exchange a blow with thee!'

The giant, plucking up a monster bao-bab by the roots, struck heavily
at Makoma; but the hero sprang aside, and as the weapon sank deep into
the soft earth, whirled Nu-endo the hammer round his head and felled
the giant with one blow.

So terrible was the stroke that Chi-gwisa- miti shrivelled up as the
other giants had done; and when he had got back his breath he begged
Makoma to take him as his servant. 'For,' said he, 'it is honourable
to serve a man so great as thou.'

Makoma, after placing him in his sack, proceeded upon his journey, and
travelling for many days he at last reached a country so barren and
rocky that not a single living thing grew upon it--everywhere reigned
grim desolation. And in the midst of this dead region he found a man
eating fire.

'What are you doing?' demanded Makoma.

'I am eating fire,' answered the man, laughing; 'and my name is
Chi-idea-moto, for I am the flame-spirit, and can waste and destroy
what I like.'

'You are wrong,' said Makoma; 'for I am Makoma, who is "greater" than
you--and you cannot destroy me!'

The fire-eater laughed again, and blew a flame at Makoma. But the hero
sprang behind a rock--just in time, for the ground upon which he had
been standing was turned to molten glass, like an overbaked pot, by the
heat of the flame-spirit's breath.

Then the hero flung his iron hammer at Chi- idea-moto, and, striking
him, it knocked him helpless; so Makoma placed him in the sack,
Woro-nowu, with the other great men that he had overcome.

And now, truly, Makoma was a very great hero; for he had the strength
to make hills, the industry to lead rivers over dry wastes, foresight
and wisdom in planting trees, and the power of producing fire when he
wished.

Wandering on he arrived one day at a great plain, well watered and full
of game; and in the very middle of it, close to a large river, was a
grassy spot, very pleasant to make a home upon.

Makoma was so delighted with the little meadow that he sat down under a
large tree and removing the sack from his shoulder, took out all the
giants and set them before him. 'My friends,' said he, 'I have
travelled far and am weary. Is not this such a place as would suit a
hero for his home? Let us then go, to-morrow, to bring in timber to
make a kraal.'

So the next day Makoma and the giants set out to get poles to build the
kraal, leaving only Chi-eswa-mapiri to look after the place and cook
some venison which they had killed. In the evening, when they
returned, they found the giant helpless and tied to a tree by one
enormous hair!

'How is it,' said Makoma, astonished, 'that we find you thus bound and
helpless?'

'O Chief,' answered Chi-eswa-mapiri, 'at mid- day a man came out of the
river; he was of immense statue, and his grey moustaches were of such
length that I could not see where they ended! He demanded of me "Who
is thy master?" And I answered: "Makoma, the greatest of heroes." Then
the man seized me, and pulling a hair from his moustache, tied me to
this tree--even as you see me.'

Makoma was very wroth, but he said nothing, and drawing his finger-nail
across the hair (which was as thick and strong as palm rope) cut it,
and set free the mountain-maker.

The three following days exactly the same thing happened, only each
time with a different one of the party; and on the fourth day Makoma
stayed in camp when the others went to cut poles, saying that he would
see for himself what sort of man this was that lived in the river and
whose moustaches were so long that they extended beyond men's sight.

So when the giants had gone he swept and tidied the camp and put some
venison on the fire to roast. At midday, when the sun was right
overhead, he heard a rumbling noise from the river, and looking up he
saw the head and shoulders of an enormous man emerging from it. And
behold! right down the river-bed and up the river-bed, till they faded
into the blue distance, stretched the giant's grey moustaches!

'Who are you?' bellowed the giant, as soon as he was out of the water.

'I am he that is called Makoma,' answered the hero; 'and, before I slay
thee, tell me also what is thy name and what thou doest in the river?'

'My name is Chin-debou Mau-giri,' said the giant. 'My home is in the
river, for my moustache is the grey fever-mist that hangs above the
water, and with which I bind all those that come unto me so that they
die.'

'You cannot bind me!' shouted Makoma, rushing upon him and striking
with his hammer. But the river giant was so slimy that the blow slid
harmlessly off his green chest, and as Makoma stumbled and tried to
regain his balance, the giant swung one of his long hairs around him
and tripped him up.

For a moment Makoma was helpless, but remembering the power of the
flame-spirit which had entered into him, he breathed a fiery breath
upon the giant's hair and cut himself free.

As Chin-debou Mau-giri leaned forward to seize him the hero flung his
sack Woronowu over the giant's slippery head, and gripping his iron
hammer, struck him again; this time the blow alighted upon the dry sack
and Chin- debou Mau-giri fell dead.

When the four giants returned at sunset with the poles, they rejoiced
to find that Makoma had overcome the fever-spirit, and they feasted on
the roast venison till far into the night; but in the morning, when
they awoke, Makoma was already warming his hands to the fire, and his
face was gloomy.

'In the darkness of the night, O my friends,' he said presently, 'the
white spirits of my fathers came upon me and spoke, saying: "Get thee
hence, Makoma, for thou shalt have no rest until thou hast found and
fought with Sakatirina, who had five heads, and is very great and
strong; so take leave of thy friends, for thou must go alone."'

Then the giants were very sad, and bewailed the loss of their hero; but
Makoma comforted them, and gave back to each the gifts he had taken
from them. Then bidding them 'Farewell,' he went on his way.

Makoma travelled far towards the west; over rough mountains and
water-logged morasses, fording deep rivers, and tramping for days
across dry deserts where most men would have died, until at length he
arrived at a hut standing near some large peaks, and inside the hut
were two beautiful women.

'Greeting!' said the hero. 'Is this the country of Sakatirina of five
heads, whom I am seeking?'

'We greet you, O Great One!' answered the women. 'We are the wives of
Sakatirina; your search is at an end, for there stands he whom you
seek!' And they pointed to what Makoma had thought were two tall
mountain peaks. 'Those are his legs,' they said; 'his body you cannot
see, for it is hidden in the clouds.'

Makoma was astonished when he beheld how tall was the giant; but,
nothing daunted, he went forward until he reached one of Sakatirina's
legs, which he struck heavily with Nu-endo. Nothing happened, so he
hit again and then again until, presently, he heard a tired, far-away
voice saying: 'Who is it that scratches my feet?'

And Makoma shouted as loud as he could, answering: 'It is I, Makoma,
who is called "Greater"!' And he listened, but there was no answer.

Then Makoma collected all the dead brushwood and trees that he could
find, and making an enormous pile round the giant's legs, set a light
to it.

This time the giant spoke; his voice was very terrible, for it was the
rumble of thunder in the clouds. 'Who is it,' he said, 'making that
fire smoulder around my feet?'

'It is I, Makoma!' shouted the hero. 'And I have come from far away to
see thee, O Sakatirina, for the spirits of my fathers bade me go seek
and fight with thee, lest I should grow fat, and weary of myself.'

There was silence for a while, and then the giant spoke softly: 'It is
good, O Makoma!' he said. 'For I too have grown weary. There is no
man so great as I, therefore I am all alone. Guard thyself!' and
bending suddenly he seized the hero in his hands and dashed him upon
the ground. And lo! instead of death, Makoma had found life, for he
sprang to his feet mightier in strength and stature than before, and
rushing in he gripped the giant by the waist and wrestled with him.

Hour by hour they fought, and mountains rolled beneath their feet like
pebbles in a flood; now Makoma would break away, and summoning up his
strength, strike the giant with Nu-endo his iron hammer, and Sakatirina
would pluck up the mountains and hurl them upon the hero, but neither
one could slay the other. At last, upon the second day, they grappled
so strongly that they could not break away; but their strength was
failing, and, just as the sun was sinking, they fell together to the
ground, insensible.

In the morning when they awoke, Mulimo the Great Spirit was standing by
them; and he said: 'O Makoma and Sakatirina! Ye are heroes so great
that no man may come against you. Therefore ye will leave the world
and take up your home with me in the clouds.' And as he spake the
heroes became invisible to the people of the Earth, and were no more
seen among them.

[Native Rhodesian Tale.]

The Magic Mirror From the Senna

A long, long while ago, before ever the White Men were seen in Senna,
there lived a man called Gopani-Kufa.

One day, as he was out hunting, he came upon a strange sight. An
enormous python had caught an antelope and coiled itself around it; the
antelope, striking out in despair with its horns, had pinned the
python's neck to a tree, and so deeply had its horns sunk in the soft
wood that neither creature could get away.

'Help!' cried the antelope, 'for I was doing no harm, yet I have been
caught, and would have been eaten, had I not defended myself.'

'Help me,' said the python, 'for I am Insato, King of all the Reptiles,
and will reward you well!'

Gopani-Kufa considered for a moment, then stabbing the antelope with
his assegai, he set the python free.

'I thank you,' said the python; 'come back here with the new moon, when
I shall have eaten the antelope, and I will reward you as I promised.'

'Yes,' said the dying antelope, 'he will reward you, and lo! your
reward shall be your own undoing!'

Gopani-Kufa went back to his kraal, and with the new moon he returned
again to the spot where he had saved the python.

Insato was lying upon the ground, still sleepy from the effects of his
huge meal, and when he saw the man he thanked him again, and said:
'Come with me now to Pita, which is my own country, and I will give you
what you will of all my possessions.'

Gopani-Kufa at first was afraid, thinking of what the antelope had
said, but finally he consented and followed Insato into the forest.

For several days they travelled, and at last they came to a hole
leading deep into the earth. It was not very wide, but large enough to
admit a man. 'Hold on to my tail,' said Insato, 'and I will go down
first, drawing you after me.' The man did so, and Insato entered.

Down, down, down they went for days, all the while getting deeper and
deeper into the earth, until at last the darkness ended and they
dropped into a beautiful country; around them grew short green grass,
on which browsed herds of cattle and sheep and goats. In the distance
Gopani-Kufa saw a great collection of houses all square, built of stone
and very tall, and their roofs were shining with gold and burnished
iron.

Gopani-Kufa turned to Insato, but found, in the place of the python, a
man, strong and handsome, with the great snake's skin wrapped round him
for covering; and on his arms and neck were rings of pure gold.

The man smiled. 'I am Insato,' said he, 'but in my own country I take
man's shape--even as you see me--for this is Pita, the land over which
I am king.' He then took Gopani-Kufa by the hand and led him towards
the town.

On the way they passed rivers in which men and women were bathing and
fishing and boating; and farther on they came to gardens covered with
heavy crops of rice and maize, and many other grains which Gopani-Kufa
did not even know the name of. And as they passed, the people who were
singing at their work in the fields, abandoned their labours and
saluted Insato with delight, bringing also palm wine and green
cocoanuts for refreshment, as to one returned from a long journey.

'These are my children!' said Insato, waving his hand towards the
people. Gopani-Kufa was much astonished at all that he saw, but he
said nothing. Presently they came to the town; everything here, too,
was beautiful, and everything that a man might desire he could obtain.
Even the grains of dust in the streets were of gold and silver.

Insato conducted Gopani-Kufa to the palace, and showing him his rooms,
and the maidens who would wait upon him, told him that they would have
a great feast that night, and on the morrow he might name his choice of
the riches of Pita and it should be given him. Then he was away.

Now Gopani-Kufa had a wasp called Zengi-mizi. Zengi-mizi was not an
ordinary wasp, for the spirit of the father of Gopani-Kufa had entered
it, so that it was exceedingly wise. In times of doubt Gopani-Kufa
always consulted the wasp as to what had better be done, so on this
occasion he took it out of the little rush basket in which he carried
it, saying: 'Zengi-mizi, what gift shall I ask of Insato to-morrow when
he would know the reward he shall bestow on me for saving his life?'

'Biz-z-z,' hummed Zengi-mizi, 'ask him for Sipao the Mirror.' And it
flew back into its basket.

Gopani-Kufa was astonished at this answer; but knowing that the words
of Zengi-mizi were true words, he determined to make the request. So
that night they feasted, and on the morrow Insato came to Gopani-Kufa
and, giving him greeting joyfully, he said:

'Now, O my friend, name your choice amongst my possessions and you
shall have it!'

'O king!' answered Gopani-Kufa, 'out of all your possessions I will
have the Mirror, Sipao.'

The king started. 'O friend, Gopani-Kufa,' he said, 'ask anything but
that! I did not think that you would request that which is most
precious to me.'

'Let me think over it again then, O king,' said Gopani-Kufa, 'and
to-morrow I will let you know if I change my mind.'

But the king was still much troubled, fearing the loss of Sipao, for
the mirror had magic powers, so that he who owned it had but to ask and
his wish would be fulfilled; to it Insato owed all that he possessed.

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