The Baba Yaga - Russian Folktales 1868.

The Baba Yaga.

I know stepmothers get a bad press now and again, but this tale really takes the biscuit. To all stepmums out there you are awesome, we love you. Taken from "Russian Folktales" published in 1868.

Once upon a time there was an old couple. The husband lost his wife and married again. But he had a daughter by the first marriage, a young girl, and she found no favour in the eyes of her evil stepmother, who used to beat her, and consider how she could get her killed outright.

One day the father went away somewhere or other, so the stepmother said to the girl "Go to your aunt, my sister, and ask her for a needle and thread to make you a shift."

Now that aunt was Baba Yaga. Well, the girl was no fool, so she went to a real aunt of hers first, and says she; "Good morning, auntie."

"Good morning, my dear. What have you come for?"

"Mother has sent me to her sister, to ask for a needle and thread to make me a shift."

Then her aunt instructed her what to do. "There is a birch tree there, niece, which would hit you in the eye -- you must tie a ribbon round it; there are doors which would creak and bang -- you must pour oil on their hinges; there are dogs which would tear you to pieces -- you must throw them these rolls; there is a cat which would scratch your eyes out -- you must give it a piece of bacon."

So the girl went away, and walked and walked, till she came to the place. There stood a hut, and in it sat weaving the Baba Yaga, the Bony Shanks.

"Good morning, auntie," says the girl.

"Good morning, my dear," replies the Baba Yaga.

"Mother has sent me to ask you for a needle and thread to make me a shift."

"Very well, sit down and weave a little in the meantime."

So the girl sat down behind the loom, and the Baba Yaga went outside, and said to her maid servant, "Go and heat the bath, and get my niece washed, and mind you look sharp after her. I want to breakfast off her."

Well, the girl sat there in such a fright that she was as much dead as alive. Presently she spoke imploringly to the servant maid, saying, "Kinswoman dear, do please wet the firewood instead of making it burn, and fetch the water for the bath in a sieve." And she made her a present of a handkerchief.

The Baba Yaga waited a while, then she came to the window and asked, "Are you weaving, niece? Are you weaving, my dear?"

"Oh yes, dear aunt, I'm weaving." So the Baba Yaga went away again, and the girl gave the cat a piece of bacon, and asked, "Is there a way of escaping from here?"

"Here's a comb for you and a towel," said the cat; "take them, and be off. The Baba Yaga will pursue you, but you must lay your ear to the ground, and when you hear that she is close at hand, first of all throw down the towel. It will become a wide, wide river. And if Baba Yaga gets across the river, and tries to catch you, then you must lay your ear to the ground again, and when you hear she is close at hand, throw down the comb. It will become a dense, dense forest; through that she won't be able to force her way anyhow."

The girl took the towel and the comb and fled. The dogs would have rent her, but she threw them the rolls, and they let her go by; the doors would have begun to bang, but she poured oil on their hinges, and they let her pass through; the birch tree would have poked her eyes out, but she tied the ribbon about it, and it let her pass on; muddled everything about, if it didn't do much weaving.

Up came the Baba Yaga to the window, and asked, "Are you weaving, niece? Are you weaving, my dear?"

"I'm weaving, dear aunt, I'm weaving," gruffly replied the cat.

The Baba Yaga rushed into the hut, saw that the girl was gone, and took to beating the cat, and abusing it for not having scratched the girls eyes out. "Long as I've served you,' said the cat, "you've never given me so much as a bone, but she gave me bacon."

Then Baba Yaga pounced upon the dogs, on the doors, on the birch tree, and on the servant maid, and set to work abusing them all, and to knock them about. Then the dogs said to her, "Long as we've served you, you've never so much as pitched us a burnt crust, but she gave us rolls to eat.

And the doors said, "Long as we've served you, you've never poured oil on us." The birch tree said, "Long as I've served you, you've never tied a single thread round me, but she fastened a ribbon around me." And the maid servant said, "Long as I've served you, you've never given me so much as a rag, but she gave me a handkerchief." 

The Baba Yaga, bony of limb, quickly jumped into her mortar, sent it flying along the pestle, sweeping away the while all traces of it flying with a broom, and set off in pursuit of the girl. Then the girl put her ear to the ground, and when she heard that the Baba Yaga was chasing her, and was now close at hand, she flung down the towel. And it became a wide, such a wide river! Up came the Baba Yaga to the river, and gnashed her teeth with spite, then she went home for her oxen, and drove them to the river. The oxen drank up every drop of the river, and then the Baba Yaga began the pursuit anew.

But the girl put her ear to the ground again, and when she heard that the Baba Yaga was near, she flung down the comb, and instantly a forest sprang up, such an awfully thick one! The Baba Yaga began gnawing away at it, but however hard she worked, she couldn't gnaw her way through it, so she had to go back again.

But by this time the girl's father had returned home, and he asked, "Where's my daughter?"

"She's gone to her aunt's" replied her stepmother.

Soon afterwards the girl herself came running home.

"Where have you been?" asked her father.

"Oh, father!" she said, "mother sent me to aunts to ask for a needle and thread to make me a shift. But aunt's a Baba Yaga, and she wanted to eat me!"

"And how did you get away, daughter?"

"Why like this," said the girl, and explained the whole matter. As soon as her father had heard all about it, he became wroth with his wife, and shot her. But he and his daughter lived on and flourished, and everything went well with them.

The Hindhead Murder - 1786.

This is a tragic tale of a good samaritan, it is said that no good deed goes unpunished, well here is the proof. It is the 24th September 1786 and a series of events will prove the undoing of three murderous sailors.

The General Advertiser, 3rd October 1786;

"On Sunday last, a shocking and barbarous murder was committed by three abandoned villains; The unfortunate person, who fell a sacrifice to these ruffians, accidently met them at a public house at Monhill, near Godalming, Surrey, and as they were seafaring men, he treated them plentifully; when he paid the reckoning, he changed a guinea, and told them (as they said their money was short) he would assist them on the journey to Portsmouth, as long as it lasted.

They went along together, and travelled as far as the Red Lion at Road Lane, where he treated them a second time: they then proceeded on their journey, but had not got above two miles farther to a place called Hind Head, where they committed the above cruel and inhuman murder.

All of them were taken a short time after, and carried before Justice Fielding, of Haslemere, Surrey, when, after separate examinations, they were committed to Guildford gaol."

The murder was truly awful, the callousness exhibited was breathtaking, as this man was treating them to drinks at each pub the other three planned what they were going to do to him. The Times of the 4th October gave more detail to the crime, stating;

".......these monsters knocked their benefactor down, and they all immediately assisted in stripping him quite naked, the poor man all the time imploring them to spare his life: but they were deaf to his entreaties, and with their knives mangled his body much too shocking to relate, and then nearly severed his head from the body.

One of them still not satisfied, said to his companion, 'Lend me your knife, I'll have another cut at him,' which being given, they dragged him about two hundred yards out of the road, and then proceeded towards Portsmouth."

Fortunately the villains were seen in their attempt to hide the body by two men, they hurried back to Road Lane where they drummed up eight men to help them follow the murderers. They came upon the three sailors at Rake, near Petersfield and captured them, it appeared the sailors had already decided to commit murder that day, dangerous men indeed.

The Times correspondent further stated;

"They were conducted under strong guard; and on coming to the house, where the mangled corpse of the poor man lay, the guard insisted on their getting out the coach, to see and touch the body; one of them was much affected, and shed tears; but the other two seemed totally unconcerned, and with an unpardonable audacity declared, 'they would do it again, had they an opportunity.'"

The three sailors, Edward Lonegon, Michael Casey and James Marshall were tried at Kingston Assizes and found guilty, it was an open and shut case. They were sentenced to death by hanging, after which their bodies were to be hung in chains at Hindhead, on what was to become known as Gibbet Hill.

The body of the poor unknown victim was interred in Thursley churchyard where he lies to this day, his gravestone was paid for by local residents. On the stone is engraved;

In memory of

A generous but unfortunate sailor

Who was barbarously murder'd on Hindhead

On September 24th 1786

By three villains

After he had liberally treated them

And promised them his farther assistance

On the road to Portsmouth.

A stone was also placed near the murder site by a Mr James Sitwell, known as the Sailor's Stone this monument was moved a couple of times over the years, the first was in 1826 because of a road realignment, and the second was in 1932 when it was shifted back to its original position due to road widening. The original inscription read:

ERECTED

In detestation of a barbarous murder

Committed here on an unknown Sailor

On Sep, 24th 1786

By Edwd. Lonegon, Mich. Casey & Jas. Marshall

Who were all taken the same day

And hung in chains near this place

Whoso sheddeth Man's blood by Man shall his

Blood be shed. Gen Chap 9 Ver 6

In 1807 - 1809 the painter William Turner created a series of monochrome prints (mezzotint) that were published in 1811 under the title Liber Studiorum, number 25 of these prints was created in 1808 and is of Hindhead Hill and clearly shows the gibbet still in situ. Although, by the time Turner visited one of the malefactors had gone, he came down during a big storm on the 23rd December 1790, hence why his gibbet is a T shape instead of a triangle.

Hind Head Hill - William Turner

The area was said to have an evil air, and when finally the gibbet was gone, a Celtic Cross was erected in its place. Financed by Sir William Erle in 1851, the cross has four latin inscriptions on its base, which read; 

POST TENEBRAS LUX

IN OBITU PAX

IN LUCE SPES

POST OBITUM SALUS

Which translates thus; 

Light After Darkness

Peace In Passing Away

Hope In Light

Salvation After Death

This tragic event has been mentioned by several famous authors, for instance in Nicholas Nickleby (1838-1839) by Charles Dickens, Nickleby tells the tale to Smike as they pass the Devil's Punchbowl, a wide depression in the earth at the base of Gibbet Hill, much to Smike's "greedy interest."

In the Christmas supplement of the Dublin Daily Express of 1890, Bram Stoker had published Gibbet Hill, in this uncanny short story a man falls asleep on the hill and encounters three very odd children with evil and supernatural intent.

The Reverend Sabine Baring-Gould published his The Broom-Squire in 1896, here he tells the tragic tale of the unknown sailor's daughter who suffers at the hands of the Broom-Squires family.

The Man From Morocco or Souls In Shadows (1926) by Edgar Wallace has the story set in modern times with an unknown sailor bludgeoned to death on the Portsmouth road.

In Punchbowl Midnight (1951) by Monica Edwards has a character that becomes cursed because she defaces the Sailor's Stone with a knife.

The Legend of Hob O' The Stob Hill (Morpeth) by James Service 1834.

 

I've said, and say again, that they who praise,

With such inveterate glee, the good old days,

Are somewhat apt in prejudice to wander,

And treat the present age with less than candour;

But for his  reason should you press your poet,

Hark to his tale, that  probably will show it!

Have you sir, seen a comet? - yes! - she shines

Exactly with the lustre of these lines;

No head, nor fountain of her light, we find,

But she's extremely luminous behind!

So if my story's dark at first - the rhyme

Will sparkle now - and then blaze forth in time,

Spreading around new light on times gone by -

On tales once famed in Border Minstrelsie!

Morpeth's good town is - just as you may know it;

But as it was - the histories don't show it;

My legend will - 'tis local - and 'tis true,

A point that more concerns myself than you,

And how I came by it will prove it such,

Being taken - that is stolen - from the Hutch,

Which all the corporations deeds are held in,

As old and obscure as Meg o' Meldon! -

A huge and ugly oak and iron box,

They keep up stairs, secured by seven vast locks;

But what are locks to antiquarian fingers?

A hint's enough - meanwhile my story lingers.

King John, it seems, had made a desperate kick up,

And the whole nation reel'd and had a hickup;

Now what they quarrel'd for, it matters not,

We care not now, nor did then one jot;

On one side stood the king, and on the other

Was the Lord Morpeth and his younger brother.

In those hot days it was a sort of fashion,

That whatsoe'er the landlord chose to dash on,

The tennant followed, were it for good or evil -

"Go on, I follow - be it to the devil!"

And not a vassal dared his leader's steps shun,

A general rule, but there was one exception.

Hob o' Stob Hill, simpleton by rule,

And wise enough, at least, to seem a fool,

Took, as few wiser men have ever done,

A witty way to cherish number one!

Such beings were and are - who can dispense,

A pound of sound, with half a grain of sense;

Sages look queer, and strange how instinct can

So well supply the place of mind  in man! -

Hob had a wife, one of those gentle dearies

Who ruled with rod of iron - whose chief fear is

Not to be fear'd - who at the altar say,

"I will command"  for "honour and obey."

Now Hobby's was a ticklish situation;

The King commanded him, with half the nation,

To join the Royal banner, - and his lord

Bade Hob against the king to draw his sword;

His wife, with a voice as terrible as either,

Cried, "draw thy sword, I charge thee, Hob, for neither."

"Right!" said the king - "left!" cried the baron, - "halt!"

Roar'd the domestic tyrant, - Hob at fault

Scratch'd his shock head, and rolled his eyes, and cried,

"There's only ae way to please aw," - and died.

Such accidents were not much heeded then;

The king and baron, both in want of men,

Desired the mourning widow out of hand

To furnish one of each, or lose the land.

In those days, would you think it? ladie's money

Could make a bitter bargain sweet as honey.

So Hobby's widow found a match, and he

Went as trooper to the king, - while she

In Hobby's jack, and armed with good broad sword,

Mounted on one eyed mare, and joined her lord! -

"Meg," said the amazon, "keep ye the hoose,

Look to the cows, and watch the cleckin goose;

And, for poor Hobby, tyek the silly creature

On your strang back, and fling him i' the water."

Away she sallied, and to do the job

Maggie approached; when, lo! up started Hob,

Capering as though death had but mad him stronger,

And swore he had but died to live the longer;

Free from his fears, and severed from his wife,

He hoped to lead a semi joyous life.

Alas! how vain are human hopes! the king

Threatened on Morpeth fire and sword to bring.

Then stood the town on t'other side of the river,

And the lord's bailiff then was the land giver;

He caused the freemen, as the king came down,

To save their lives and sacrifice the town.

The patriot freemen quickly fired their houses,

And on their backs bore off their goods and their spouses.

Hobby excepted! - he, with wiser aim,

Struggled to save his cottage from flame,

And kindly offered to his brother freemen,

Ransom for all their goods, except their women.

Not to digress, - this ne'er was his intent,

He took them as a Morpeth compliment!

What that phrase means, authorities don't tell us,

But Hob's words may, - said he, "maw canny fellows,"

"Ye knaw that aw was buckled wiv a marrow,

That kept me like a tyed belaw a harrow,

A naggy, stupid, fulish, yammerin howdie,

A parfit bison, and a huel for crowdie;

She gave me nowt i' plenty but her tongue,

O' that  a Morpeth compliment she flung.

My lord, aw wad na flickered at his order,

Wasn't for a raid of foray o'er the border;

But yens awn sells to whack at yen another,

I see nae gude in't; - then to join tother,

Aw mean the king, - maw certes! when maw wife

In maw awn breeks had met me i' the strife,

She wad hae whumbled me and ta'en maw life.

Ye brainless culls, ye set the town a-lowe,

And what I saved, ye wad hae frae me now,

But tyek whe likes, and let him keep whe can,

Maw part is aye to play the canny man!

Yer aw wise beggars - aw's a cull - but, hark!

A wealthy fuil outweighs a hungry clerk;

Ye die to live in story - when aw died,

It was to live wi' peace abuin maw head;

And when yer story's tell'd in efter day,

Ye maunna think to carry a' the praise,

For on this spot six hunder years hereafter,

Clusters of bonny lasses, wi' loud laughter,

And witching smiles, shall praise the canny skill

And living death o' Hob o' the Stob Hill!"