Mr Fox#
A fantastically grim Englsh folk tale, the sort of thing that might well go down as a Halloween tale, or a ghost story… A lesser told tale than Perrault’s Bluebeard and/or Grimm’s The Robber Bridegroom, the gist of it is much the same.
We can find an early version of the tale in a commentary to Shakespeare’s Nuch Ado About Nothing on the phrase “it is not so, nor ‘twas not so: but indeed God forbid it should be so”, offered a source for that quote and remembered as a tale told by an elderly relation of the commentator (Blakeway).
An old tale, 1821
https://archive.org/details/playsandpoemswi22rowegoog/page/164/mode/2up
The plays and poems of William Shakspeare by Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616; Boswell, James, 1778-1822, ed; Malone, Edmond, 1741-1812; Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744; Johnson, Samuel, 1709-1784; Capell, Edward, 1713-1781; Stevens, George, 1736-1800; Farmer, Richard, 1735-1797; Rowe, Nicholas, 1674-1718; George Fabyan Collection (Library of Congress) DLC
Publication date 1821
p164-5
[In section on “Much Ado About Nothing”]
Benedict, Like the old tale, it is not so, nor ‘twas not so: but indeed God forbid it should be so.] I believe none of the commentators have understood this; it is an allusion, as the speaker says, to an old tale which may perhaps be still extant in some collections of such things, or which Shakspeare may have heard, as I have, related by a great aunt, in his childhood.
Once upon a time, there was a young lady, (called Lady Mary in the story) who had two brothers. One summer they all three went to a country seat of theirs, which they had not before visited. Among the other gentry in the neighbourhood who came to see them, was a Mr. Fox, a batchelor, with whom they, particularly the young lady, were much pleased. He used often to dine with them, and frequently invited Lady Mary to come and see his house. One day that her brothers were absent elsewhere, and she had nothing better to do, she determined to go thither; and accordingly set out unattended. When she arrived at the house, and knocked at the door, no one answered. At length she opened it, and went in; over the portal of the hall was written “Be bold, be bold, but not too bold:” she advanced: over the stair-case, the same inscription: she went up: over the entrance of a gallery, the same: she proceeded: over the door of a chamber, — “Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, lest that your heart’s blood should run cold.” She opened it; it was full of skeletons, tubs full of blood, &c. She retreated in haste; coming down stairs, she saw out of a window Mr. Fox advancing towards the house, with a drawn sword in one hand, while with the other he dragged along a young lady by her hair. Lady Mary had just time to slip down, and hide herself under the stairs, before Mr. Fox and his victim arrived at the foot of them. As he pulled the young lady up stairs, she caught hold of one of the bannisters with her hand, on which was a rich bracelet. Mr. Fox cut it off with his sword: the hand and bracelet fell into Lady Mary’s lap, who then contrived to escape unobserved, and got home safe to her brother’s house.
After a few days, Mr. Fox came to dine with them as usual (whether by invitation, or of his own accord, this deponent saith not). After dinner, when the guests began to amuse each other with extraordinary anecdotes. Lady Mary at length said, she would relate to them a remarkable dream she had lately had. I dreamt, said she, that as you, Mr. Fox, had often invited me to your house, I would go there one morning. When I came to the house, I knocked, &c. but no one answered. When I opened the door, over the hall was written, “Be bold, be bold, but not too bold”. But, said she, turning to Mr. Fox, and smiling, It is not so, nor it was not so; then she pursues the rest of the story, concluding at every turn with “It is not so, nor it was not so,” till she comes to the room full of dead bodies, when Mr. Fox took up the burden of the tale, and said, “It is not so, nor it was not so, and God forbid it should be so:” which he continues to repeat at every subsequent turn of the dreadful story, till she came to the circumstance of his cutting off the young lady’s hand, when, upon his saying as usual. It is not so, nor it was not so, and God forbid it should be so. Lady Mary retorts. But it is so, and it was so, and here the hand I have to show, at the same time producing the hand and bracelet from her lap: whereupon the guests drew their swords, and instantly cut Mr. Fox into a thousand pieces.
Such is the old tale to which Shakspeare evidently alludes, and which has often “froze my young blood,” when I was a child, as, I dare say, it had done his before me. I will not apologize for repeating it, since it is manifest that such old wive’s tales often prove the best elucidation of this writer’s meaning. Blakeway.
The tale was then perhaps re-popularised by Halliwell-Phillips in his Popular rhymes and nursery tales of 1849. The layout in Halliwell’s version makes me think the refrain might provide a useful invitation to participation…
A simple, but very curious tale, 1849
https://archive.org/details/popularrhymesnur0000unse/page/46/mode/2up Popular rhymes and nursery tales: a sequel to the Nursery rhymes of England by Halliwell-Phillipps, J. O. (James Orchard), 1820-1889
Publication date 1849 pp47-8
THE STORY OF MR. FOX. [A simple, but very curious tale, of considerable antiquity. It is alluded to by Shakespeare, and was contributed to the variorum edition by Blakeway. Part of this story will recall to the reader's memory the enchanted chamber of Britomart.]
Once upon a time there was a young lady called Lady Mary, who had two brothers. One summer they all three went to a country seat of theirs which they had not before visited. Among the other gentry in the neighbourhood who came to see them was a Mr. Fox, a bachelor, with whom they, particularly the young lady, were much pleased. He used often to dine with them, and frequently invited Lady Mary to come and see his house. One day, when her brothers were absent elsewhere, and she had nothing better to do, she determined to go thither, and accordingly set out unattended. When she arrived at the house and knocked at the door, no one answered. At length she opened it and went in, and over the portal of the door was written:
Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.
She advanced, and found the same inscription over the staircase; again at the entrance of a gallery; and lastly, at the door of a chamber, with the addition of a line:
Be bold, be bold, but not too bold,
Lest that your heart’s blood should run cold!
She opened it, and what was her terror and astonishment to find the floor covered with bones and blood. She retreated in haste, and coming down stairs, she saw from a window Mr. Fox advancing towards the house with a drawn sword in one hand, while with the other he dragged along a young lady by the hair of her head. Lady Mary had just time to slip down, and hide herself under the stairs, before Mr. Fox and his victim arrived at the foot of them. As he pulled the young lady upstairs, she caught hold of one of the bannisters with her hand, on which was a rich bracelet. Mr. Fox cut it off with his sword: the hand and bracelet fell into Lady Mary’s lap, who then contrived to escape unobserved, and got safe home to her brothers’ house.
A few days afterwards, Mr. Fox came to dine with them as usual. After dinner, the guests began to amuse each other with extraordinary anecdotes, and Lady Mary said she would relate to them a remarkable dream she had lately had. I dreamt, said she, that as you, Mr. Fox, had often invited me to your house, I would go there one morning. When I came to the house, I knocked at the door, but no one answered. When I opened the door, over the hall I saw written, “Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.” But, said she, turning to Mr. Fox, and smiling, “It is not so, nor it was not so.” Then she pursued the rest of the story, concluding at every turn with, “It is not so, nor it was not so,” till she came to the discovery of the room full of bones, when Mr. Fox took up the burden of the tale, and said:
It is not so, nor it was not so,
And God forbid it should be so!
which he continued to repeat at every subsequent turn of the dreadful story, till she came to the circumstance of his cutting off the young lady’s hand, when, upon his saying, as usual,
It is not so, nor it was not so,
And God forbid it should be so!
Lady Mary retorts by saying,
But it is so, and it was so,
And here the hand I have to show!
at the same moment producing the hand and bracelet from her lap. Whereupon the guests drew their swords, and instantly cut Mr. Fox into a thousand pieces.
The tale is followed by another related one, of a student who sought seduced a maiden, and then attempted to hide the fact…
The Oxford Student, 1849
https://archive.org/details/popularrhymesnur0000unse/page/48/mode/2up Popular rhymes and nursery tales: a sequel to the Nursery rhymes of England by Halliwell-Phillipps, J. O. (James Orchard), 1820-1889
Publication date 1849
pp49-50
THE OXFORD STUDENT. [Obtained in Oxfordshire from tradition.]
Many years ago there lived at the University of Oxford a young student, who, having seduced the daughter of a tradesman, sought to conceal his crime by committing the more heinous one of murder. With this view, he made an appointment to meet her one evening in a secluded field. She was at the rendezvous considerably before the time agreed upon for their meeting, and hid herself in a tree. The student arrived on the spot shortly afterwards, but what was the astonishment of the girl to observe that he commenced digging a grave. Her fears and suspicions were aroused, and she did not leave her place of concealment till the student, despairing of her arrival, returned to his college. The next day, when she was at the door of her father’s house, he passed and saluted her as usual. She returned his greeting by repeating the following lines:
One moonshiny night, as I sat high,
Waiting for one to come by,
The boughs did bend; my heart did ache
To see what hole the fox did make.
Astounded by her unexpected knowledge of his base design, in a moment of fury he stabbed her to the heart. This murder occasioned a violent conflict between the tradespeople and the students, the latter taking part with the murderer, and so fierce was the skirmish, that Brewer’s Lane, it is said, ran down with blood. The place of appointment was adjoining the Divinity Walk, which was in time past far more secluded than at the present day, and she is said to have been buried in the grave made for her by her paramour.
According to another version of the tale, the name of the student was Fox, and a fellow-student went with him to assist in digging the grave. The verses in this account differ somewhat from the above.
As I went out in a moonlight night,
I set my back against the moon,
I looked for one, and saw two come:
The boughs did bend, the leaves did shake,
I saw the hole the Fox did make
The Oxford Student is referenced by Addy in his Household Tales, as a possible variant of a tale Addy included in his collection.
The girl who got up the tree, 1895
https://archive.org/details/householdtaleswi00addyuoft/page/n49/mode/2up Household tales with other traditional remains, collected in The Counties of York, Lincoln, Derby, and Nottingham by Addy, Sidney Oldall, 1848-
Publication date 1895
pp10-11
9.— THE GIRL WHO GOT UP THE TREE. [From North Derbyshire. Compare the preceding tale, and a tale in Halliwell's Popular Rhymes and Nursery Talcs, 1849 p. 49 called "The Oxford Student."]
A GIRL who was leaving her master’s service at a farm in the country told her sweetheart that she would meet him near a stile where they had met many times before. This stile was overhung by a tree. The girl got there before him and found a hole dug underneath the tree, and a pickaxe and spade lying by the side of the hole. She was much frightened at what she saw, and got up the tree. After she had been up the tree awhile her sweetheart came, and another man with him. Thinking that the girl had not yet come, the two men began to talk, and the girl heard her sweetheart say, “She will not come to-night. We’ll go home now, and come back and kill her to-morrow night.” As soon as they had gone the girl came down the tree and ran home to her father. When she had told him what she had seen, the father pondered a.while and then said to his daughter: “We will have a feast and ask our friends, and we will ask thy sweetheart to come and the man that came with him to the tree.” So the two men came along with the other guests. In the evening they began to ask riddles of each other, but the girl who had got up the tree was the last to ask hers. She said:
I’ll rede you a riddle,
I’ll rede it you right,
“Where was I last Saturday night?
The wind did blow, the leaves did shake,
When I saw the hole the fox did make.
[The following variation occurs: One moonlight night as I sat high, Waiting for one but two came by, The boughs did bend, my heart did quake, To see the hole the fox did make,]
When the two men who had intended to murder the girl heard this they ran out of the house.
By way of comparison, consider this telling of Bluebeard, from 1846. I don’t find it satisfying at all, and would never consider telling it this way:
The popular story of Blue Beard, or, Female curiosity, 1846
https://archive.org/details/McGillLibrary-PN970_R9_P67_1846-2022/page/n1/mode/2up The popular story of Blue Beard, or, Female curiosity: embellished with beautiful cuts by Perrault, Charles,1628-1703.Barbe bleue.English
Publication date 1846
pp.1-8
THE HISTORY OF BLUE BEARD
THERE was a man who had fine houses, both in town and country, a deal of silver and gold plate, embroidered furniture, and coaches gilded all over with gold. But this man had the misfortune to have a blue beard, which made him so frightfully ugly, that all the women and girls ran away from him.
One of his neighbours, a lady of quality, had two daughters, who were perfect beauties. He desired of her one of them in marriage, leaving to her the choice which of the two she would bestow on him. They would neither of them have him, and sent him backwards and forwards from one to another, not being able to bear the thoughts of marrying a man who had a blue beard. And what, besides, gave them disgust and aversion was, his having already been married to several wives, and nobody ever knew what became of them.
Blue Beard, to engage their affections, took them, with the lady their mother, and three or four ladies of their acquaintance, with other young people of the neighbourhood, to one of his country seats, where they continued a whole week. There was nothing then to be seen but parties of pleasure, fishing, mirth, and feasting; and all passing the night in rallying and joking with each other. In short, every thing so well succeeded, that the youngest daughter began to think the master of the house not to have a beard so very blue, and that he was a mighty civil gentleman.
So soon as they returned home, the marriage was concluded. About a month afterwards, Blue Beard told his wife that he was obliged to take a country journey for six weeks, at least, about affairs of very great consequence, desiring her to divert herself in his absence, sending for her friends and acquaintance, carry them into the country, if she pleased, and make good cheer wherever she was. “Here,” said he, “are the keys of the two great wardrobes, wherein I have my best furniture; these are my silver and gold plate; these open my strong boxes, which hold my money, both gold and silver; these my casket of jewels; and this is the master-key to all my apartments; but as for this little one here, it is the key of the closet at the end of the great gallery on the ground floor. Open them all, go into all and every one, except that little closet, which I forbid you, and forbid it in such a manner, that if you happen to open it, there is nothing but what you may expect from my just anger and resentment.” She promised to observe exactly whatever he had ordered; when, after having embraced her, he got into his coach, and proceeded on his journey.
Her neighbours and good friends did not stay to be sent for by the new-married lady, so great was their impatience to see all the rich furniture of her house, not daring to come while her husband was there, because of his blue beard, which frightened them. They ran through all the rooms, closets, and wardrobes, which were all so rich and fine, that they seemed to pass one another. After that, they went into the two great rooms, which were the best and richest furniture; they could not sufficiently admire the number and beauty of the tapestry, beds, couches, cabinets, stands, tables, and looking-glasses, in which you might see yourselves from head to foot: some of them were framed with glass; others with silver, plain and gilded, the finest and most magnificent ever seen. They ceased not to extol and envy their happiness of their friend, who, in the mean-time, no way diverted herself in looking upon all these rich things, because of the impatience she had to go and open the closet on the ground-floor. She was so much pressed by her curiosity, that, without considering that it was very uncivil to leave her company, she went down a little back staircase, with such excessive haste, that she had twice or thrice like to have broken her neck.
Being come to the closet door, she made a stop for some time, thinking upon her husband’s orders, and considering what nnhappiness might attend her if she was disobedient, but the temptation was so strong, she could not overcome it; she took then the little key, and opened it, trembling, but could not at first see any thing plainly, because the windows were shut. After some moments, she began to perecive that the floor was all covered over with clotted blood, on which lay the bodies of several dead women, ranged against the walls; these were all the wives which Blue Beard had married and murdered, one after another. She thought she would have died for fear, and the key, which she pulled out of the lock, fell out of her hand.
After having somewhat recovered her surprise, she took up the key, locked the door, and went up stairs into her chamber, to recover herself; but could not, so much was she frightened. Having observed that the key of the closet was stained “With blood, she tried two or three times to wipe it off, but the blood would not come out; in vain did she wash it, and even rub it with soap and sand; the blood still remained, for the key was a fairy, and she could never make it quite clean; when the blood was gone off from one side, it came again on the other.
Blue Beard returned from his journey the same evening, and said he had received letters upon the road, informing him that the affair he went about was ended to his advantage. His wife did all she could to convince him that she was extremely glad of his speedy return. Next morning he asked her for the keys, which she gave him, but with such a trembling hand, that he easily guessed what had happened. “What!” said he, “is not the key of my closet among the rest?” “I must certainly,” answered she, “have left it above upon the table.” “Fail not,” said Blue Beard, “to bring it to me presently.”
After several going backwards and forwards she was forced to bring him the key. Blue Beard, having attentively considered it, said to his wife, “How comes this blood upon the key?” “I do not know,” cried the poor woman, paler than death. “You do not know,” replied Blue Beard; “I very well know, you were resolved to go into the closet, were you not? Mighty well, madam! you shall go in, and take your place among the ladies you saw there !”
Upon this she threw herself at her husband’s feet, and begged his pardon, declaring she would never more be disobedient. She would have melted a rock, so beautiful and sorrowful was she; but Blue Beard had a heart harder than any rock. “You must die, madam,” said he, “and that presently. “Since I must die,” answered she, looking upon him with her eyes all bathed in tears, “give me some little time to say my prayers.” “I give you,” replied Blue Beard, “half a quarter of an hour, but not one moment more.”
When she was alone, she called out to her sister, and said to her, “Sister Anne,” for that was her name, “go up, I beg you, upon the top of the tower, and look if my brothers are not coming; they promised me that they would come to-day; and if you see them, give them a sign to make haste.” Her sisterwent upon the top of the tower, and the poor afflicted wife cried out from time to time, “Anne, sister Anne, do you see anyone coming?” And sister Anne said, “I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which looks green.”
In the mean while Blue Beard, holding a great cimeter in his hand, cried out, as loud as he could bawl, to his wife, “Come down instantly, or I shall come up to you.” “One moment longer, if you please,” said his wife; and then she cried out very softly, “Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see any body coming?” and sister Anne answered, “I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass looking green.” “Come down quickly,” cried Blue Beard, “or I will come up to you.” “I am coming,” answered his wife; and then she cried, “Anne, sister Anne, dost thou not see any one coming?” “I see,” replied sister Anne, a great dust which comes on this side here.” “Are these my brothers?” “Alas! no, my dear sister, I see a flock of sheep.” “Will you not come down?” cried Blue Beard. “One moment longer,” said his wife; and then she cried out, “Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see any one coming?” “I see,” said she, “two horsemen coming, but they are a great way off.” “God be praised!” replied the poor wife joyfully, “they are my brothers.” “I am making them a sign,” said sister Anne, “as well as I can, for them to make haste.” Then Blue Beard bawled out so loud, that he made the whole house tremble.
The distressed wife came down, and threw herself at his feet, all in tears, with her hair about her shoulders. “This signifies nothing,” says Blue Beard, “you must die then, taking hold of her hair with one hand, and lifting up his cimeter with the other, he was going to take off her head. The poor gentlewoman, turning about to him and looking at him with dying eyes, desired him to afford her one little moment to recollect herself. “No, no,” said he, “recommend thyself to God and was just ready to strike. At this very instant, there was such a loud knocking at the gate, that Blue Beard made a sudden stop. The gate was opened, and presently entered two horsemen, who, drawing their swords, ran directly to Blue Beard.
He knew them to he his wife’s brothers, one a dragoon, the other a musketeer; so he ran immediately to save himself; but the two brothers pursued so closely, that they overtook him before he could get to the steps of the porch, when they ran their swords through his body, and left him dead.
The poor wife was almost as dead as her husband, and had not strength enough to rise and welcome her brothers. Blue Beard had no heirs, and so his wife became mistress ot all his estate. She made use of one part of it to marry her sister Anne to a young gentleman, who had loved her a longwhile; another part, to buy captains’ commissions for her brothers; and the rest, to marry herself to a very worthy gentleman, who made her forget the ill time she had passed with Blue Beard.
The Grimm’s Robber Bridegroom, however, does seem to work better as a possible straight tell, for me at least:
The Robber Bridegroom, 1826
https://archive.org/details/german-popular-stories-volume-2-1826/page/198/mode/2up German Popular Stories, translated from the Kinder und Haus Marchen, collected by M. M. Grimm, volume 2, 1826
pp. 199-205
THE ROBBER-BRIDEGROOM.
There was once a miller who had a pretty daughter; and when she was grown up, he thought to himself, “If a seemly man should come to ask her for his wife, I will give her to him that she may be taken care of.” Now it so happened that one did come, who seemed to be very rich, and behaved very well; and as the miller saw no reason to find fault with him, he said he should have. his daughter. Yet the maiden did not love him quite so well as a bride ought to love her bridegroom, but, on the other hand, soon began to feel a kind of inward shuddering whenever she saw or thought of him.
One day he said to her, “Why do you not come and see my home, since you are to be my bride?” “I do not know where your house is,” said the girl. “Tis out there,” said her bridegroom, “yonder, in the dark green wood.” Then she began to try and avoid going, and said, “But I cannot find the way thither.” “Well, but you must come and see me next Sunday,” said the bridegroom; “I have asked some guests to meet you, and that you may find your way through the wood, I will strew ashes for you along the path.”
When Sunday came and the maiden was to go out, she felt very much troubled, and took care to put on two pockets, and filled them with peas and beans. She soon came to the wood, and found her path strewed with ashes; so she followed the track, and at every step threw a pea on the right and a bean on the left side of the road; and thus she journeyed on the whole day till she came to a house which stood in the middle of the dark-wood. She saw no one within, and all was quite still, till on a sudden she heard a voice cry,
“Turn again, bonny bride!
Turn again home!
Haste from the robber’s
Haste away home!!”.
She looked around, and saw a little bird sitting in a cage that hung over the door; and he flapped his wings, and again she heard him dry,
“Turn again, bonny bride!
Turn again home!
Haste from the robber’s den,
Haste away home!”
However, the bride went in, and reamed along from one room to another, and so over all the house; but it was quite empty, and not a soul could she see. At last she came to a room where a very very old woman was sitting. “Pray, can you tell me, my good woman,” said she, “if my bridegroom lives here?” “Ah! my dear child!” said the old woman, “you are come to fall into the trap laid for you: your wedding can only be with Death, for the robber will surely take away your life; if I do not save you, you are lost!” So she hid the bride behind a large cask, and then said to her, “Do not. stir or move yourself at all, lest some harm should befall you; and when the robbers are asleep we will run off; I have long wished to get away.” She had hardly done this when the robbers came in, and brought another young maiden with them. that had been ensnared like the bride. Then they began to feast and drink, and were deaf to her shrieks and groans: and they gave her some wine to drink, three glasses, one of white, one of red, and one of yellow; upon which she fainted and fell down dead. Now the bride began to grow very uneasy behind the cask, and thought that she too must die in her turn. Then the one that was to be her bridegroom saw that there was a gold ring on the little finger of the maiden they had murdered; and as he tried to snatch it off, it flew up in the air and fell down again behind the cask just in the bride’s lap. So he took a light and searched about all round the room for it, but could not find any thing; and another of the robbers said, “Have you looked behind. the. large cask yet?” “Pshaw!” said the old woman, “come, sit still and eat your supper now, and leave the ring alone till to-morrow; it won’t run away, I’ll warrant.” So the robbers gave up the search, and went on with their eating and drinking; but the old woman dropped a sleeping-draught into their wine, and they laid themselves down and slept, and snored. roundly. And when the bride heard this, she stepped out from behind the cask; and as she was forced to walk over the sleepers, who were lying about on the floor, she trembled lest she should awaken some of them. But heaven aided her, so that she soon got through her danger; and the old woman went up stairs with her, and they both ran away from this murderous den. The ashes that had been strewed were now all blown away, but the peas and beans had taken root and were springing up, and showed her the way by the light of the moon. So they walked the whole night, and in the morning reached the mill; when the bride told her father all that had happened to her. As soon as the day arrived when the wedding was to take place, the bridegroom came; and the miller gave orders that all his friends and relations should be asked to the feast. And as they were all sitting at table, one of them proposed thateach of the guests should tell some tale. Then the bridegroom said to the bride, when it came to her turn, “Well, my dear, do you know nothing? come, tell us some story.” “Yes,” answered she, “I can tell you a dream that I dreamt. I once thought I was going through a wood, and went on and on till I came to a house where there was not a soul to be seen, but a bird in a cage, that cried out twice,
‘Turn again, bonny bride!
Turn again home!
Haste from the robber’s den,
Haste away home!”
“I only dreamt that, my love. Then I went through all the rooms, which were quite empty, until I came to a room where there sat a very old woman; and I said to her, ‘Does my bridegroom live here?’ but she answered, ‘Ah! my dear child! you have fallen intha murderer’s snare; your bridegroom will surely kill you;’—I only dreamt that, my love. But she hid me behind a large cask; and hardly had she done this, when. the robbers came in, dragging a young woman along with them; then they gave her three kinds of wine to drink, white, red, and yellow, till she fell dead upon the ground;—I only dreamt that, my love. After they had done this, one of the robbers saw that there was a gold ring on her little finger, and snatched at it; but it flew up to the ceiling, and then fell behind the great cask just where I was, and into my lap; and here is the ring!” At these words she brought out the ring and showed it to the guests.
When the robber saw all this, and heard what she said, he grew as pale as ashes with fright, and wanted to run off; but the guests held. him fast and gave him up to justice, so that he and all his gang met with the due reward of their wickedness.
Note, p. 253
The Robber Bridegroon. p: 199. “Der Raiiberbraütigam” of MM. Grimm. This tale has a general affinity to that of Bluebeard, most of the incidents of which story are found in others of the German collection. It should, perhaps, be observed, that in the original, the finger is chopped off, and is carried away by the bride, as well as the ring upon it.
For another take on the Robber Bridegroom tale, a gypsy tale collected from Noah Lock by Thomas William Thompson, that appears as the first in a series of English Gypsy Folk-Tales, and other Traditional Stories in the Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society.
The Robber and the Housekeeper, 1914-5
https://archive.org/details/journalgypsylorensv8-1914-15/page/n221/mode/2up Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society, VOLUME VIII Publication date (1914—1915)
p202-8
The Robber and the Housekeeper
From Noah Lock
THE’ was wonst a big high gentleman what lived in a fine mansion, a very grand place it was an’ no mistake, standing back in its own grounds, an’ the’ was a carriage drive leading up to it from the road, an’ trees growing all about it. I can’t tell you exac’ly who he was, but he was some very high notified gentleman. Now it so come about at the time I’m a-speaking on as this gentleman, an’ the lady his wife, an’ their son—they only had but- one son—an’ their two da’ghters, they all went away for a week’s holiday. An’ they had a little baby, this gentleman an’ lady had, but they didn’t take it wid ‘em; they left it at home wid the housekeeper; an’ they left one ‘n the sarvant gals as well for comp’ny like for the housekeeper, but the tother sarvant gals they took wid ‘em.
They’d be gone away now some two or three days, when the’ comes knocking at the doar ‘n the house an owld woman—or so she’d ‘pear to be—a rale comital owld woman. An’ this owld woman got a-gate telling tales an’ things, an’ sich funny tales she to wid that she kept the housekeeper an’ the tother sarvant in fits o’ laughing. She got on an’ got on, one tale a’ter another, an’ all the time they was standing at the back doar, all the three ‘n they. Whatsumever, a’ter a bit, the one sarvant says to the tother: ‘Shall we ax her to come in an’ sit down a bit?’ ‘Well aye,’ says the tother, ‘she’ll be a bit o’ good comp’ny for we.’ So they axes her in, an’ sets vittles afoare her—plenty to eat an’ plenty to drink —an’ a’ter when she’d had a bellyful they all sits talking, an’ telling tales, an’ laughing till nigh upon night time.
So whatever to you, the owld woman now begins to ax ‘em for one bit o’ thing an’ another, an’ they gi’es her these, for they wa’n’t o’ no value not to speak on. Getting bowld like she axes ‘em for summat else, an’ this thing it was o’ some value, though what it was exac’ly I couldn’t rightly say—not now. Whatsumever, it was kept upstairs, this thing was what she’d axed for, so the sarvant an’ the housekeeper as well they both goes upstairs, an’ they leaves the little baby downstairs in the kitchen wid the owld woman. Whether it was they couldn’t find it, or whether it was they was talking it over a bit as to how they should get rid ‘n this owld woman, or what, I couldn’t say, but they was a t’emendous long while upstairs, an’ the owld woman gets out o’ patience wid waiting. ‘If you don’t come down at wonst,’ she hollers out, ‘an’ bring me that thing what I axed you for, then I shall restroy this baby.’ Whatsumever, they ‘pears to take no notice on her, so she makes for the baby, an’ is just going to knock its brains out, when out jumps a big, black ‘triever dog, as had been sleeping in the corner wid one eye open all the time, an’ which she’d never as much as noticed afoare. It has her by the throat afoare she could stir hand or limb to keep it off, an’ shakes the life out’n her—aye, kills her stone dead on the spot it does.
As soon as they hears the baby scream the housekeeper an’ the tother sarvant they comes rushing downstairs, an’ they finds the owld woman lying dead on the floar, an’ the big ‘triever dog standing over her. Now being as she is dead they begins to sarch her, an’ what should they find but that the owld woman isn’t a woman at all, but a man dressed up in woman’s things. There’s something ‘spicious about this, they thinks, an’ they goes through all his pockets, an’ there they finds a ‘volver—a six chamber ‘volver —a dagger, and a horn.
Whatsumever to you, the housekeeper now takes an’ blows this horn, three times she blows it, an’ no sooner has she done this but what three robbers comes running up the drive as fast as ever they can. She doesn’t lose not a minute; she snatches up the ‘volver and shoots two ‘n they dead on the spot, an’ the third she’d have sarved the same, only but he run away agen afoare she had the time.
Now when the master an’ mistress come home agen it was only nat’ral-like ‘at the first thing they should ax was, how had their little baby been this long time. ‘Oh! quite well,’ says’ the housekeeper, for she didn’t like to say nothink about the robbers. But the tother sarvant she wa’n’t agen telling, so she up an’ towld the whole story. When the master heeard this he was very pleased at the way the housekeeper had done to the robbers. He should make her comfor’able for the rest ‘n her life, he said, an’ she should have a house ‘n her own near by to his, an’ no more work to do, that was not unless she had a mind to, an’ she shouldn’t want for nothink, he said, as long as he had money to buy it wid. So soon a’ter he had a very tidy soart ‘n a house builded in his own grounds, an’ this he gi’ed to the housekeeper for her very own, to do as she liked wid.
Whatever to you, the robber as had run away an’ missed getting killed, he put a ‘vartisement into the papers saying as how he’d like to find a job as coachman wid some gentleman; he was very used to horses, he said, and a good stidy driver. Now it just so happened as the gentleman what lived in the mansion next to the one where the housekeeper was stood in want ‘n a coachman, so when he seen the ‘vartisement into the papers he sent for the robber, an’ gi’ed him a month’s trial, an’ when the month was up he took him on for good.
Afoare long this robber gets on wid the housekeeper, and goes courting her very strong. An’ she gets rale sweet on him, her not knowing like who he is, for he was a very good-looking man, an’ pleasant spoken enough when it suited his parpose. A’ter a bit he axes her, will she marry him. She doesn’t say ‘yes,’ nor yet she doesn’t say ‘no,’ but she goes straight to her master an’ tells him all, an’ axes him: ‘what shall I do?’ ‘Oh! that’s soon answered,’ he says. ‘If you ‘re fond ‘n him,’ he says, ‘then marry him. But if you don’t like him,’ he says, ‘then don’t marry him.’
‘Oh! I love him,’ she says. ‘Well then,’ he says, ‘that being the state o’ ‘fairs you go an tell him you’ll have him.’ So she did, and afoare long they got married, an’ went to live in the house what the gentleman’d had builded for her.
At first they was very happy of course like everybody is. About six months passed, an’ then one day the robber tells his wife as he’s going to take her to see his delations. ‘You know, my dear, he says, ‘we now been married this long time, an’ I ha’n’t as much as set eyes on one ‘n my own people from that day to this.
They must think it strange ‘n we not going over to see ‘em.’ ‘Yes, dear,’ she says, ‘we ought to go, and I’m sure it’ll be a great pleasure to me.’ ‘It will,’ he says, and away he goes to harness the pony, an’ yoke it. She gets up into the trap besides him, and off they sets.
He drives on and on over mountains and all manner o’ wild lonesome places all that day, and all the next day, and all the day a’ter that agen. About the fourth day she begins to be a bit anazy in her mind, an’ wonders, poor thing, wherever they can be going to, an’ whenever will they get there. She works herself up into sich a state till at last she bursts out crying; she couldn’t keep it in no longer. ‘Oh! my dear husband,’ she says, ‘where are we going to, an’ however much farther is it?’ ‘Be quiet, woman,’ he says, ‘you’ll find out just now; an’ plenty soon enough that’ll be, for if you only but knew what was to happen to you when we get to my brother’s house you wouldn’t be fretting your heart out to get there.’ ‘Oh! my dear,’ she says,’ whatever is up with you talking so strange-like.’ ‘Well, if you will know,’ he says, ‘it was you murdered my two brothers, and now we’re a-going to take us vengeance on you.’ At that she begun crying agen, an’ begging him on her bended knees to take her back home, but he didn’t take not a bit o’ notice on her, only towld her to stop her hollering, or it would be the worse for her.
In about another day they comes to the robbers’ house, an’ the robbers they takes an’ shuts up the housekeeper in a room, an’ strips her stark mother naked, an’ ties her up to the ceiling by the hairs ‘n her head, an’ leaves her there, whils’ they go an’ talk over what kind o’ death they shall put her to. Whatsumever, they hadn’t tied her hands, so as soon as they’re gone out ‘n the room she gets to work breaking her hairs, two or three at a time, bit by bit, till at last she works herself loose. She opens the window as quiet as ever she can, an’ Lord! she was a-frightened for fear they should hear her, but they didn’t, so she gets out. She takes a good look round to make cartain as nobody is watching her, an’ then away she runs as fast as her legs can take her, away back on the road they’d come.
Whatever to you, she might be gone from the robbers’ house p’r’aps three or four hours, an’ she was fair fit to drop, an’ all of a faint, when she comes up wid an owld man driving a cart all full o’ nothink only but apples. An’ she towld this owld man ‘bout the state she was in—which there wa’n’t no need for, as he’d got eyes an’ could see for hisself—an’ how she was running away from some robbers as was going to take her life, an’ where it was she was wanting to get to. ‘Oh!’ she says, ‘if only you could find it in your heart to do a kindness to a poor woman in trouble, an’ help her on her way a bit! ‘ The owld man was very sorry for her, an’ so, being as he was going her road, he towld her to jump up besides him, which she did pretty quick as you can guess. An’ he shifts the apples away from one side ‘n the cart, an’ tells her to lay herself down there, an’ she does, an’ he covers her all over wid the apples.
He drives on now, an’ for about two days they goes on and on over the mountains an’ places, an’ never sets eyes on a soul. Then a fine gentleman on horseback comes up wid they. It was the robber this was, an’ the owld man knowed it well enough, for he was cunning owld fellow. He’d heeard the horse coming along behind him all the while, but he hadn’t as much as turned round. ‘My good man,’ says the robber, ‘have you seen annythink on a woman going stark mother naked?’ ‘ N—o,’ the owld man answers him, an’ goes driving on. ‘But she’s come this road,’ says the robber, ‘an’ she must ha’ passed you somewheres, for she isn’t behind you.’ The owld man pulls up. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘now I come to think ‘n it, I seen somethink yesterday what looked very funny; I couldn’t make nothink on it. Somethink white it was, ‘way back on the owld road right over yonder, miles an’ miles back. What it was though I couldn’t say, I’m sure.’ ‘Ah!’ says the robber, ‘that must ha’ been her,’ an’ wi’ that he puts spurs to his horse, an’ gallops off to look for her down the owld side road, what was many an’ many a mile back.
The owld man laughs to hisself an’ goes on agen, an’ he gets a long way on afoare the robber comes up wid him a second time. ‘Stop, you owld white-headed rascal,’ he shouts, the robber does, cussing an’ swearing somethink awful; ‘you been telling me lies for a parpose.’ ‘No,’ says the owld man, ‘that I ha’n’t, for I ha’n’t never towld you no lies at all.’ Well anyhow,’ says the robber, ‘the woman ha’n’t gone that road what you towld me.’ ‘Well, I never said as she had,’ says the owld man, very quiet-like. ‘All I said was I seen some funny white thing along the owld road. It was you yourself,’ he says, ‘as said it must be her.’ ‘Ah!’ says the robber, ‘I can see you got moare knowledge on her nor what you lets on, you owld varmint. I shouldn’t wonder if you ha’n’t got her in your cart all the time.’ ‘No I ha’n’t,’ says the owld man; ‘but if you don’t put no trust in my words p’r’aps you’ll believe your own eyes. Look,’ he says, an’ he pulls off the cover off ‘n his cart, an’ shows the robber his cart full of apples. ‘She’s not here, is she now?’ ‘No,’ says the robber, ‘I can’t see nothink only but apples.’ Then a’ter this the robber leaves him, an’ the owld man drives on now till he comes to the place where the housekeeper lives.
Whatever to you, the first thing the housekeeper does is to go an’ tell her owld master everythink what has happened to her, an’ she begs him to save her from the robber. ‘My dear,’ he says very kind-like, ‘don’t you think no moare about it. You must stay here,’ he says, ‘in my house, an’ you shall have everythink what you wants—plenty to eat an’ to drink, an’ plenty o’ grand clothes to wear, an’ a lady companion to be wid you always. And as for the robber,’ he says,’just leave him to me; I’ll see to it as he don’t do you no harm. I got a plan for catching him,’ he says; ‘it’s just now come into my head.’
An’ wid that he goes off, an’ orders bills to be put out everywheres, on every barn-doar, and every tree, and every gate-post for miles an’ miles round, saying as on sich-an’-sich a day’ he’ll give a big feast, and as everybody is axed to it, rich an’ poor, they’ll all be made welcome. Now it gets on an’ gets on ‘till it’s only but two days afoare the feast is to be gi’ed, when the robber he comes back agen into them parts, an’ of course it’s not long till he sees the bills. He goes to his wife’s house, but it’s empty. Well, he thinks it over to hisself, as the best he can do is to reguise hisself an’ go to this feast; she is sure to be there, he thinks, an’ he can watch her where she goes a’ter when it is over.
On the night ‘n the feast there is the housekeeper, all dressed in silks an’ satins, an’ her lady companion at her side, walking up an’ down, up an’ down, in the grand hall where the supper is laid. An’ the master he is standing at the doar shaking hands wid everybody as they comes in. Of course they’re both ‘n they looking out for the robber. Now it’s a curious thing that though they seen everybody as come in they didn’t see the robber among ‘em, neither the one nor yet the tother didn’t. And agen when all the guests is sat down to the tables they both walks back’ards an’ for’ards, an’ back’ards an’ for’ards, an’ they has a good look at everybody, an’ yet they can’t find him, though they knew as he must be in the room somewheres. ‘Well, this is ancominon strange/ says the master; ‘but I’ll find him yet afoare the night is out, just you see.’
Now a’ter when they’d all eaten till they couldn’t eat no moare, an’ drunk most all the wine, the master he g6ts up from his place, an’ he begins to make a bit ‘n a speech. ‘I been greatly pleased,’ he says, ‘wid your comp’ny here to-night. An’ now,’ he says, ‘afoare you go—and I shall be very sorry to have to part from you —the’s just one thing. I’m now going to call for a toast,’ he says, ‘which I wants all ‘n you here present, every one ‘n you, to drink standing up, wid yowr left hands flat open above your heads, so.’ It was a cunning trick this was, for the robber you see had the two first fingers ‘n his left hand cut off by the middle joints, so that when they all stood up an’ raised their hands to drink the toast he was fun’ out. The master tells his sarvants to seize him, an’ he sends to fatch a rigiment o’ soldiers, an’ they comes, an’ they shoots him. An’ that was the end ‘n the robber.