The Ghost of the Spring and the Shrew

Once upon a time which was no time if it was a time, in the days when my

mother was my mother and I was my mother’s daughter, when my mother was

my daughter and I was my mother’s mother, in those days, I say, it

happened that we once went along the road, and we went on and on and on.

We went for a little way and we went for a long way, we went over

mountains and over valleys, we went for a month continually, and when we

looked behind us we hadn’t gone a step. So we set out again, and we went

on and on and on till we came to the garden of the Chin-i-Machin

Pasha.[14] We went in, and there was a miller grinding grain, and a cat

was by his side. And the cat had woe in its eye, and the cat had woe on

its nose, and the cat had woe in its mouth, and the cat had woe in its

fore paw, and the cat had woe in its hind paw, and the cat had woe in

its throat, and the cat had woe in its ear, and the cat had woe in its

face, and the cat had woe in its fur, and the cat had woe in its tail.

Hard by this realm lived a poor wood-cutter, who had nothing in the

world but his poverty and a horrid shrew of a wife. What little money

the poor man made his wife always took away, so that he had not a single

_para_[15] left. If his supper was oversalted--and so it was many a

time--and her lord chanced to say to her: “Mother, thou hast put too

much salt in the food,” so venomous was she that next day she would cook

the supper without one single grain of salt, so that there was no savour

in it. But if he dared to say: “There is no savour in the food, mother!”

she would put so much salt in it next day that her husband could not eat

thereof at all.

Now what was it that befell this poor man one day? This is what befell.

He put by a couple of pence from his earnings to buy a rope to hang

himself withal. But his wife found them in her husband’s pocket: “Ho,

ho!” she cried, “so thou dost hide thy money in corners to give it to

thy comrades, eh?” In vain the poor man swore by his head that it was

not so, his wife would not believe him. “My dear,” said her husband, “I

wanted to buy me a rope with the money.”

“To hang thyself with, eh?” inquired his affectionate spouse.

“Well, thou knowest what a hideous racket thou dost make sometimes,”

replied her husband, meaning to pacify her.

“What I have done hitherto is little enough for a blockhead like thee,”

she replied, and with that she gave her husband such a blow that it

seemed to him as if the red dawn was flashing before him.

The next morning the wood-cutter rose early, saddled his ass, and went

towards the mountains. All that he said to his wife before starting was

to beg her not to follow him into the forest. This was quite enough for

the wife. Immediately he was gone she saddled her ass, and after her

husband she went without more ado. “Who knows,” murmured she to herself,

“what he may not be up to in the mountains, if I am not there to look

after him!”

The man saw that his wife was coming after him, but he made as if he did

not see, never spoke a word, and as soon as he got to the foot of the

mountain he set about wood-cutting. His wife, however, for she was a

restless soul, went up and down and all about the mountain, poked her

nose into everything, till at last her attention was fixed by a deserted

well, and she made straight for it.

Then her husband cried to her: “Take care, there’s a well right before

thee!”

The only effect this warning had upon the wife was to make her draw

still nearer. Again he cried to her: “Dost thou not hear me speak to

thee? Go not further on, for there’s a well in front of thee.”

“What do I care what he says?” thought she. Then she took another step

forward, but before she could take another the earth gave way beneath

her, and into the well she plumped. As for the husband, he was thinking

of something else, for he always minded his own business, so, his work

over, he took his ass and never stopped till he got home.

The next day, at dawn, he again arose, saddled the ass, and went to the

mountains, when the thought of his wife suddenly came into his mind.

“I’ll see what has become of the poor woman!” said he. So he went to the

opening of the well and looked into it, but nothing was to be seen or

heard of his wife. His heart was sore, for anyhow was she not his wife?

and he began to think whether he could get her out of the well. So he

took a rope, let it down into the well, and cried into the great depth

thereof: “Catch hold of the rope, mother, and I’ll draw thee up!”

Presently the man felt that the rope had become very heavy. He pulled

away at it with all his might, he tugged and tugged--what creature of

Allah’s could it be that he was pulling out of the well? And lo! it was

none other than a hideous ghost! The poor wood-cutter was sore afraid.

“Rise up, poor man, and fear not,” said the ghost. “The mighty Allah

rather bless thee for thy deed. Thou hast saved me from so great a

danger, that to the very day of judgment I will not forget thy good

deed.”

Then the poor man began to wonder what this great danger might be.

“How many many years I lived peaceably in this well I know not,”

continued the ghost, “but up to this very day I knew no trouble. But

yesterday--whence she came I know not--an old woman suddenly plumped

down on my shoulders, and caught me so tightly by both my ears, that I

could not get loose from her for a moment. By a thousand good fortunes

thou didst come to the spot, let down thy rope, and call to her to seize

hold of it. For in trying to get hold of it she let me go, and I at once

seized the rope myself, and, the merciful Allah be praised for it, here

I am on dry land again. Good awaits thee for thy good deed; list now to

what I say to thee!”

With that the ghost drew forth three wooden tablets, gave them to the

wood-cutter, and said to him: “I now go to take possession of the

daughter of the Sultan. Up to this day the princess has been hale and

well, but now she will have leeches and wise men without number, but all

in vain, not one of them will be able to cure her. Thou also wilt hear

of the matter, thou wilt hasten to the Padishah, moisten these three

wooden tablets with water, lay them on the face of the damsel, and I

will come out of her, and a rich reward will be thine.”

With that the wood-cutter took the three tablets, put them in his

pocket, and the ghost went to the right and he went to the left, and

neither of them thought any more of the old woman in the well. But let

us first follow the ghost.

Scarcely had this son of a devil quitted the wood-cutter than he stood

in the Serai of the Padishah, and entered into the poor daughter of the

Sultan. The poor girl immediately fell to the ground in great pain. “O

my head! O my head!” she cried continually. They sent word to the

Padishah, and he, hastening thither, found his daughter lying on the

ground and groaning. Straightway he sent for leeches, wise men, drugs,

and incense, but none of them assuaged her pain. They sent for them a

second time, they sent for them a third time, but all their labour was

in vain. At last they had ten doctors and ten wise men trying what they

could do, and all the time the poor girl kept moaning: “My head, my

head!”

“O my sweet child,” groaned the Padishah, “if thy head aches, believe me

my head, and my heart also, ache a thousand times as much to hear thee.

What shall I do for thee? I know what I will do. I will go call the

astrologers, perchance they will know more than I do.” And with that he

called together all the most famous astrologers in his kingdom. One of

them had one plan, another had another, but not one of them could cure

the complaint of the poor damsel.

But now let us see what became of the poor wood-cutter.

He lived on in the world without his wife, and gradually he forgot all

about her, and about the ghost and the three wooden tablets, and the

ghost’s advice and promise. But one day, when he had no thought at all

of these things, a herald from the city of the Padishah came to where he

was with a firman[16] in his hand, and read this out of it in a loud

voice: “The damsel, the Sultan’s daughter, is very sick. The leeches,

the wise men, the astrologers, all have seen her, and not one of them

can cure her complaint. Whoever is a master of mysteries, let him come

forward and doctor her. If he be a Mussulman, and cure her, the Sultan’s

daughter now and my realm after my death shall be his reward; and if he

be a Giaour[17] and cure her, all the treasures in my realm shall be

his.”

The wood-cutter needed no more to remind him of the ghost, the three

tablets, and his wife. He arose and went up to the herald. “By the mercy

of Allah I will cure the Sultan’s daughter, if she be still alive,” said

he. At these words the servant of the Padishah caught hold of the

wood-cutter, and led him into the Serai.

Word was sent at once of his arrival to the Padishah, and in an instant

everything was made ready for him to enter the sick chamber. There

before him lay the poor damsel, and all she did was to cry continually:

“My head, my head!” The wood-cutter brought forth the wooden tablets,

moistened them, and scarcely had he spread them on the Sultan’s daughter

than immediately she became as well again as if she had never been ill.

At this there was great joy and gladness in the Serai, and they gave the

daughter of the Sultan to the wood-cutter; so the poor man became the

son-in-law of the Padishah.

Now this Padishah had a brother who was also a Padishah, and his kingdom

was the neighbouring kingdom. He also had a daughter, and it occurred to

the ghost of the well to possess her likewise.

So she also began to be tormented in the same way, and nobody could find

a cure for her complaint. They searched and searched for assistance high

and low, till at last they heard how the daughter of the neighbouring

Padishah had been cured of a like sickness. So that other Padishah sent

many men into the neighbouring kingdom, and begged the first Padishah,

for the love of Allah, to send thither his son-in-law to cure the other

damsel also. If he cured her he was to have the damsel for his second

wife.

So the Padishah sent his son-in-law that he might cure the

damsel--’twould be nothing to such a master of mysteries as he, they

said. All that he could say was in vain, the poor fellow had to set out,

and as soon as he arrived they led him at once into the sick-chamber.

But now the ghost of the well had a word to say in the matter.

For that evil spirit was furious with his poor comrade. “Thou didst a

good deed to me, it is true,” began the ghost, “but thou canst not say

that I remained thy debtor. I left for thy sake the beautiful daughter

of the Sultan, and I chose out another for myself, and thou wouldst now

take her from me also? Well, wait a while, and thou shalt see that for

this deed of thine I will take them _both_ away from thee.”

At this the poor man was sore troubled.

“I did not come hither for the damsel,” said he, “she is thy property,

and, if such be thy desire, thou mayest take mine away also.”

“Then what’s thy errand here?” roared the ghost.

“Alas! ’tis my wife, the old woman of the well,” sighed the former

wood-cutter, “and I only left her in the well that I might be rid of

her.”

On hearing this the ghost was terribly frightened, and it was with a

small voice that he now inquired whether by chance she had come to light

again.

“Yes, indeed, she’s outside,” sighed the man, “wherever I may go I am

saddled with her. I haven’t the heart to free myself from her. Hark!

she’s at the door now, she’ll be in the room in a moment.”

The ghost needed no more. Forthwith he left the daughter of the Sultan,

and the Serai, and the whole city, and the whole kingdom, so that not

even the rumour of him remained. And not a child of man has ever seen

him since.

But the daughter of the Sultan recovered instantly, and they gave her to

the former wood-cutter, and he took her home as his second wife.

[14] Emperor of China.

[15] Farthing.

[16] An Imperial rescript.

[17] An unbeliever.