Episode 103 – Sympathy for the Devil – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 103 Show Notes

Source: Czechoslovak Folklore, Irish Folklore

This week on MYTH, it’s our annual Halloween Spooktacular! You’ll discover that demons can really bust a move, that being a miser never seems to work out on holidays, and that you should be careful about what invitations you accept. Then, in Gods and Monsters, it’s the devilish origin story of a Halloween classic: the jack-o’lantern. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 103, “Sympathy for the Devil”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year. That’s right, folks – it’s once again our annual Halloween special episode. This year, the Devil’s coming down to Czechoslovakia before hopping over to Ireland to cause even more mischief in our Gods and Monsters segment. Our main story comes once again from the Czechoslovak Fairy Tales collection by Parker Fillmore from 1919.
There once was a woman named Katcha who owned a little cottage with a neat little garden in a small village somewhere. She had saved up some money on top of this, but it didn’t do her much good – you see, Katcha was a miserable, sharp-tongued miser who was widely despised by everyone who had the misfortune of meeting her. Some of this was undoubtedly rampant sexist bullshit as the story complains that her shrill, whining voice could be heard a mile away, which is not a valid reason to shun someone. On the other hand, she apparently had a foul temper and was fond of haranguing everyone around her and complaining about every little thing that everyone did, regardless of whether it was her business or, in fact, affected her in the slightest. Despite having plenty of cash (something that was in short supply in the little village where she lived), none of the laborers would work for her no matter what price she offered because she would invariably spend the entire job following that person around, criticizing and insulting them in a nonstop torrent. If literally no one wants to work for you, the problem might actually be you.
Despite her relative wealth, nobody wanted to spend any time with her, let alone marry her, leaving her alone in her little cottage (which she was extremely bitter about). She got meaner as she got older until, by the time she was 40, she’d been fairly well pickled by malice and spite. So we’re just off to a great start here.
Now, in this particular village, it just so happened that there was a dance held every Sunday afternoon. It bounced back and forth between the tavern and the burgermeister’ house (which is not, as the name might imply, the master of hamburgers but an English butchering of the Dutch burgemeester, the chief magistrate or mayor of a town). Bagpipe music (which, if you’ve ever heard it played, is intended to be loud and rousing, like a celebratory headbutt) always signaled the start of the dance. As soon as the music began to echo over the town, the boys would flock inside the appointed building while the girls clustered around the outside and looked in the windows. As a girl caught a particular fellow’s eye, he would beckon her inside and, if she found him cute (or at least pleasant enough eye candy to dance with), she’d join him inside to dance.
Katcha was always the first of the women to gather at the window, but no one ever beckoned her inside. A few times, she even tried bribing the piper to encourage the men on her behalf, but it never worked. No one liked Katcha and no one wanted to dance with her, figuring (probably correctly) that she would spend the entire night critiquing their steps. Even so, Katcha raced to the window Sunday after Sunday.
On this particular Sunday, Katcha was hurrying towards the tavern, where that week’s dance was about to begin, when she stopped to think about her situation for a moment. Looking around at all of the much younger faces around her, Katcha was depressed at her lot in life. “Here I am getting well into middle age and no boy will look twice at me. At this rate, I’ll get old and die without ever having so much as danced with a boy. Fucking bullshit! At this point, I’d dance with anyone who asked. Hell, if the Devil his own self were to show up in a puff of brimstone and ask me to dance, I’d say yes.”
Katcha stoked her rage the rest of the way to the tavern. By the time she arrived, she was in a fine fury (especially since her stop to muse and fume had made her later than usual). The spots by the windows were already full of lithe young bodies, so a grumbling Katcha made her way dejectedly over to a table by the stove to sit and grumble. Muttering angrily, she looked around the room to see what girls had already been asked to dance by the boys. As her eyes wandered over the crowd, she saw a striking stranger come striding into the tavern dressed all in hunter’s green.
He looked around at the merrymaking going on in the tavern and, with a small smile, made his way over to the table next to Katcha’s and ordered a drink. When the very busy serving maid finally brought him his beer, he leaned over to Katcha alone at her empty table and asked her to join him for a drink. The stranger’s interest caught her by surprise. She started to make a sharp comment about the quality of the beer at the tavern but caught herself and reconsidered. Instead, she pursed her lips coyly as she had seen the other girls do and played a little hard to get, pretending to be unsure about accepting the offer to drink with a stranger. She agreed to join him with only the barest of additional prompting from the stranger since she wanted very, very much to drink with someone and finally get some company for a change.
They drank and talked for a bit (or at least had that awkward club conversation that you have when trying to yell over loud music). When their drinks were dry, he fished a ducat out of his pocket (a fairly large denomination of coin) and tossed it to the piper (who ran the music). “Clear the floor, boys! Piper, this next one is for Katcha and I alone.” The boys snickered at this stranger (who they all expected to be in for a vicious tongue-lashing for no reason at all) and the girls giggled into their aprons (making at least some attempt not to let her hear them laugh at her). All in all, it was a pretty cruel scene but fortunately, Katcha wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to any of those assholes. She had eyes only for this handsome, mesmerizing stranger.
The music began and the two of them began to dance. He was strong and light on his feet, twirling Katcha around on the dance floor as though she’d done this every week for her entire life. She wouldn’t have cared if the entire world had gathered to laugh at her just then – she was dancing with a handsome young man and it was all she’d ever dreamed it could be. Their song ended and Katcha, flushed and breathless, expected the handsome man to make the rounds. Plenty of other young women were eyeing him with appreciation after that incredible display of skill and would have been happy to cut in. The stranger, however, had eyes only for Katcha. He danced with her and her alone the rest of the afternoon and on into the night. It was the most magical experience of her life. In those moments where Katcha needed a break, they grabbed a table together and he ordered her expensive drinks and sweet marzipan to nibble on. When all too soon the hour came for everyone to disperse, the stranger took Katcha by the arm and escorted her through the village.
They chatted about how pleasant the dancing had been and how fine the music until they arrived at the door to Katcha’s cottage. She leaned against his chest, flushed with excitement and drink, and sighed deeply. “This has been the most incredible night. I wish it didn’t have to end, that I could dance with you forever!” The young man lifted her chin with a finger to look into her eyes. “Are you sure? If that’s your wish, why not come with me?” Katcha considered. This was moving very quickly but she was loving the attention and so she decided to be bold. “Where to? Where do you live, handsome, nameless stranger?” He smiled. “Put your arms around my neck and I’ll whisper it into your ear.”
Her own smile matching his, Katcha did so. “I have such sights to show you,” he whispered with a laugh. His form melted from the handsome stranger into a fiendish devil and he dragged Katcha straight to hell. The world rushed around them in a dizzying blur. When it stopped, they were standing before the gates of Hell. The devil (who I should clarify is a lesser demon and not Satan proper) strode up to them and knocked. The sound reverberated with a portentous toll through the air, chilling poor, terrified Katcha to the bone. Fellow demons roused themselves and hurried to open the gates for their wicked buddy.
Their demonic bro was clearly exhausted from the day’s labors, but he appeared to have a mortal woman latched around his neck. Smiling wickedly, they tried to disentangle her from the demon, but Katcha refused to be moved. Indeed, she clung to him even tighter, climbing up on his back to hold on with arms and legs. Nothing they said or did could convince her to release her death grip on the demon’s neck. This asshole had tricked her into hell and by all that was unholy, she wasn’t about to let go. If she did, who knew if she’d ever get back home again? I think I’m on her side here.
After much failed cajoling and attempted strongarming, the demon realized he was out of options. There was only one thing left to do – suck it up and admit his mistake to the big boss. Katcha still very much in tow, the demon went to the throne of Hell to ask for help from the Prince of Darkness himself, Lucifer. Given the coming interaction, I can’t help but imagine Satan as he appears in the show South Park though maybe a little bit meaner, but only a very little bit. Satan looked up from whatever he was doing to see his demonic underling enter. “Hey there, guy – what’s that weird thing around your neck?”
The demon sighed. “My lord, it’s a mortal woman.” Satan quirked an eyebrow. “Uh huh. And why did you bring her here, exactly?” “That’s…kind of a long story.” As quickly as he could, he ran through the story: how he was skulking around on earth in disguise and heard Katcha say she would dance with the devil if he asked her; how he had appeared as a mysterious handsome stranger in green and asked her to dance; and how he had tricked her into agreeing to come back to his place. “I only meant to show her Hell, you know, scare her a little. It was just a joke, but now she won’t let go of me.”
Satan stared at the demon for a long moment before he let out a belly laugh. “Really? Sounds like the joke’s on you, asshole. You really should have known better. From everything you’ve told me, you should have known that Katcha wouldn’t let go of a man once she got ahold of one.” Which is kind of a mean-spirited joke at Katcha’s expense, but what else would you expect from the actual Devil? “Yeah, you evilness, I get it I fucked up. Can you please make her let go of me now? This stopped being funny a while ago.”
Satan laughed again. “I dunno, it’s still pretty funny from this side of things. And no, I’m not gonna help you, guy. You brought her down here without taking any kind of precautions, so you’re just gonna have to carry her back up to earth and get rid of her as best you can. This is your mess, you clean it up. And don’t come back until you do, understand? Now get the fuck out of Hell. You’re boring me.”
The demon bowed as well as he could with a terrified woman clutching his neck for dear life and left Satan’s throne room. Once he was out of sight of the Prince of Darkness, he let his exhaustion, frustration, and annoyance show on his face. This little joke had turned into a whole fucking ordeal and it just wasn’t worth it anymore. He was ready to be done. Without any warning or fanfare, he shot the two of them back to the surface world above.
Katcha still refused to let go. At this point, the story is leaning hard into the idea that Satan’s little joke had a lot more truth to it than seems at all reasonable. Apparently, Katcha had decided that, since the demon couldn’t go back with her around his neck, she could secure herself a husband (albeit a demonic one) by simply not letting go. Ever. And, unlike Rose in Titanic, she really didn’t let go. The demon tried to set her down on earth, and she refused. He tried offering her vast tracts of woodlands and rich meadows to call her own in exchange for his freedom, and she refused. He begged and pleaded and threatened, but she refused. Through it all, Katcha held on and refused to budge.
Exhausted and deeply discouraged, the demon came to a meadow where a lone shepherd sat tending his flock, wrapped in a great shaggy sheepskin coat for warmth. Desperate, the demon transformed himself into a mortal guise, this one quite plain, unremarkable, and utterly nonthreatening. Satisfied that the mortal man wouldn’t see through his disguise, he approached, Katcha still clinging to his back.
The shepherd looked up, surprised to see another person out this far into absolutely nowhere. “Hey there friend. Say, what’s that on your back?” The devil sighed theatrically (which took no pretending to pull off). “Damned if I know. I’m so exhausted that I’m about to drop dead right here on me feet. I was just out walking, minding my own business and not really thinking about anything in particular, you know? Just wandering when all of a sudden, this bloody woman leaps onto my back, latches onto my neck, and refuses to let go! I’m at my wits end here, and the only thing I can think of trying is carrying her to the next village and hope she’ll get off me long enough for us both to rest. Honestly, friend? I’m so worn out that I don’t think I’m gonna make it. I’m gonna just drop from exhaustion in the middle of the road and die.”
The shepherd was a very good natured kind of guy, always willing to help someone in need. He considered the situation, eyeing Katcha (who hadn’t budged during this whole conversation). “That’s rough, buddy. Tell you what – I can’t leave my sheep alone for very long, but I can probably manage to carry her halfway for you. That way, you can get some rest and make good time in the process. Once you’ve rested, meet me there and we can swap back. That work for you?” The devil smiled widely, genuinely thrilled by this man’s compassion. “Oh you have no idea how good that sounds! I’ll be very grateful if you can manage to help me out here.”
The shepherd stood, stretching slowly as he prepared for his labor. He walked around to the demon’s back and tapped Katcha on the shoulder. “Hey there, miss – you mind giving my new friend a break for a bit? Why not ride on my back for a while instead?” At this, Katcha finally moved, looking over at this new voice. The shepherd was, she decided, a very good looking young man. Even better, he was an actual human being and not a disguised figure of evil incarnate, so she let go of her death grip just long enough to leap onto the shepherd’s back and grab hold of his sheepskin coat as tightly as she ever had the devil. She wrapped her arms in the collar, fastening herself in tightly.
The devil rested while the shepherd set out along the road towards the next village. It didn’t take long at all for the shepherd to realize that the combination of Katcha and his long sheepskin coat made for a very heavy burden. Long, long before they reached the agreed upon halfway point, the shepherd was already sick and bloody tired of carrying this woman around for no good reason and began looking for some way to be rid of her. As they walked, he saw a pond coming up beside the road ahead. That seemed like a perfectly good place to toss the wretched weight on his back and be rid of her. Maybe she could swim, maybe she couldn’t, but either way it would slow her down enough to get away.
But only if he could pull off something tricky. He knew that she would just shift her grip if she figured out what he was up to, so he had to do this in one quick motion before she could catch on. His coat, he realized as he walked, was actually quite loose on him. If he was careful, he might just be able to unbutton and slip out of it without her feeling it through the thick hide. As nonchalantly as he could, the shepherd carefully slid one arm out of the sleeve. Katcha didn’t react. He slid the other arm out of its sleeve as well. No reaction. He undid one button, two buttons and still Katcha didn’t catch on. They were at the pond now. In one swift explosive movement, he unbuttoned the final button and hurled the coat, Katcha still latched on tight, into the middle of the pond with a great splash.
The story doesn’t bother to care about what happened to poor, much abused Katcha after that. It doesn’t even say whether she made it out of the pond alive or not, but I hope so. Katcha wasn’t a nice person to be sure, but she was also the victim of a lot of circumstances outside of her control. She didn’t deserve to get dragged to hell for wanting to dance. Sure, she shouldn’t have clung to the shepherd the way she did, but he did promise to carry her halfway to the village and it doesn’t sound like he tried talking to her, like, at all. Hopefully, she learned a valuable lesson, became a better person, and had a happy life. That’s what I’m going to pretend happened.
Anyway, the story leaves Katcha behind completely (despite being the title character) to follow this shepherd fellow. He hurried back to where he had left the mysterious stranger and his sheep as quickly as he could, leaving the pond and Katcha behind. The devil, who was still resting his aching feet, looked up in surprise to see the shepherd returning and even more surprised to see him do so alone. He gasped aloud. “Where’s Katcha?” The shepherd hooked a thumb over his shoulder casually, gesturing behind him. “Oh, her? I got tired of carrying her so I decided to leave her in that pond back there.”
The demon burst into tears of happiness and began to vigorously shake his savior’s hand. “Oh thank you thank you thank you! You are truly a gentleman and a scholar, my friend! You have done me a great favor tonight. If not for you, I might have carried that miserable Katcha around on my back until doomsday. I swear I won’t forget this – when the time is right, you’ll have a fitting reward. I do feel a little bit bad about lying to you, now that you’ve been so kind. I mean, only a little because, you see, I’m an actual demon and so lying is kind of my thing. Anyway, toodles!” And he vanished in a puff of brimstone.
The shepherd stared at the dissipating smoke in shock. That…was unexpected. He considered the night’s events and then laughed out loud, startling his sheep. “Well isn’t that a fine thing. If all the devils in Hell are as easily trapped as that and as helpless at thinking their way out, I think the forces of good are going to be okay.” Still laughing, he resettled himself amongst his sheep to continue his vigil.
The country where this shepherd lived (which may or may not have been the same one this story started in) was ruled over by a worthless young duke who was every bit the epitome of the idle rich. He spent his days drinking, dicing, and dancing and his nights throwing the wildest, most debauched parties he could manage (all at the taxpayer’s expense, of course). He left the boring-ass affairs of state in the hands of his two governors, who were as wicked as the duke was lazy. They raised the taxes to backbreaking levels and levied unjust fines against anyone who looked at them sideways until they had pretty much robbed the whole countryside broke to pay for their own lavish lifestyles. Everyone hated them, and with good reason.
Drunk and bored one day, the duke thought it would be a hoot and a half to summon an astrologer to court to read everyone’s futures in the stars and planets. The chosen astrologer dutifully came to court and prepared detailed horoscopes for all three of the terrible statesmen. As he looked over the results, the astrologer went pale. “Your highness, this is bad. This is very, very bad. Please, I beg of you – don’t ask any questions about what the stars have to say. Such dangers threaten your life, and those of your governors, that I fear to speak them aloud.”
Naturally, a statement like that is going to make anyone super curious, and the duke was no exception. What’s more, he was annoyed that this petty magician had the audacity to try and command him. “I am the duke around here and no one tells me what to do, least of all you. Now speak you little pissant, but you better be abso-fucking-lutely sure that what you say is the truth because if what you foretell doesn’t come to pass, I’ll have you executed.” The astrologer didn’t like the sound of that one bit, and it might have made him feel a little better about the news he was about to share. “Alright then, Duke: hear what the planets have foretold. Before the second quarter of the moon, a devil will come and carry off your two governors and drag them straight to hell. At the full moon, that same devil will come for your highness and drag you down to hell after them. I warned you not to ask.”
The duke laughed loudly, but it was clearly a little forced. He dismissed the astrologer and tried to get back to partying, but his heart was no longer in it. As much as he pretended to be unconcerned by the proclamations of this obvious charlatan, he was deeply shaken by what had happened. The astrologer’s voice had resounded in his ears like the very crack of doom, like divine judgment from on high. For maybe the first time in his life, the duke discovered that he had a conscience and that it didn’t care for how he lived his life or ran his government one bit.
As for the two governors, they didn’t like the astrologer’s warning much better. They found that their appetites were utterly gone – food tasted like ashes in their mouths. Their servants had to practically carry them from the palace as they were half-dead from sheer fright. Their response to this was to pile up all of their ill-gotten wealth into wagons and ride away to their own castles, where they felt safer surrounded by their own personal guards. They ordered all the doors and windows barred and forbid anyone to come in or out until after the appointed hour of doom. Clearly that would be enough to keep out a literal fucking demon, right?
For his part, the duke had an actual change of heart. Much like the Grinch, his too-small heart grew three sizes that day. Confronted with, you know, actual consequences to his actions, he actually stopped to consider if maybe what he had been doing all these years had been wrong. Turns out, the answer was an emphatic yes. He spent the time he had left reforming the government and correcting as many abuses of the state as he could manage, abandoning his previously hedonistic lifestyle entirely. Some of this was undoubtedly in the hopes that mending his ways would avert his terrible fate, but the astrologer had made it all sound rather…inevitable. At the very least, the duke wanted to do as much good as he could before his clock ran out.
Of course, out in his fields with his sheep – who never seemed to want to talk about politics or current events, being sheep – the shepherd knew precisely none of this. He was probably vaguely aware that the duke existed, but that was about the extent of it. The doings of the great and powerful far away in the cities rarely had much impact on his rural, isolated lifestyle.
One day, the shepherd was out tending to his flock as usual when that old devil suddenly appeared before him in a poof of brimstone. “Hey there, good buddy! It’s been a minute. How’s tricks? Listen, remember how I promised you I’d pay you back for getting rid of that Katcha chick? Well, today’s the day. When the moon waxes to a quarter full here in the next week or two, I’m supposed to carry off these two wicked governors to hell for robbing the poor, abusing their power, and giving the duke evil advice. See, demons aren’t all bad – we serve a useful function to society, punishing the wicked.
“Anyway, it seems that these assholes might have actually had a change of heart and become, I dunno, good or something so it’s been decided to give them one last chance. A test, but one they don’t know is coming because otherwise it wouldn’t be meaningful. On the day of the quarter moon, you go to the castle of the first governor. A crowd of people will be assembled outside to see if the astrologer’s prediction comes true because you know a rumor this juicy didn’t stay secret for long.
“I’m gonna kick the gates open and come out dragging the governor by the scruff of the neck, which is going to cause a whole kerfuffle from the crowd. When it does, you step forward and demand of me ‘What do you mean by this? Get out of here right now, or there’ll be trouble!’ I’ll pretend to be terrified by your good soul and scurry off. You ask the governor for two bags of gold in tribute for having saved his immortal soul. If he tries to haggle you down, just give a whistle and I’ll come running right back to finish the job. After that, head to the second castle, and we’ll give an encore performance, with you asking the same pay from the second governor. A friendly head up, though – since this is, you know, a literal diabolical scheme, you need to make sure to only use the money you get for good purposes. Be prudent or it’s gonna bite you in the ass.
“However that day goes, the full moon is going to be round two. I’m headed to the royal palace then to drag that awful duke to hell for his awful life. The powers that be have decided that, since he was the head honcho, most of the fault for this whole shit show lies with him, so he’s not getting a second chance. Don’t try to save his skin when I come for him, or you’ll end up in a whole world of hurt, and I like you too much to want you to end up in a bad way. Got it? Good. See you soon, friendo. Don’t forget!”
The shepherd might not be a particularly worldly man, but he knew that he was part of something important now, so he paid careful attention to the demon’s words. He kept careful track of the moon and, when it was in its first quarter, he hurried to the castle of the first governor. As promised, a huge crowd was gathered outside the gates to see what, if anything, would happen. Over the general hubbub of an excited group of people echoed a cry of great despair. The castle gates flew open and there in his full demonic glory like an inky shadow come to horrible life was the devil. In one powerful hand, he dragged the governor out of the palace by the scruff of his neck. His worst fears come to life, the governor was shaking, weeping, and frightened literally half to death. Showtime.
The shepherd elbowed his way through the crowd as politely as he could and stepped dramatically in front of the demon and his captive. “What is the meaning of this, demon?” He took the governor by the hand, pushing the devil aside (who made the gesture seem much rougher and grander than it had actually been). “Get out of here at once, or there will be trouble!” The devil cowered in terror of the shepherd (despite his mediocre acting) and the raced off into the shadows to vanish, leaving the shepherd holding the extremely grateful governor by the hand. He dropped to his knees in thanks and kissed the rough hand of the shepherd who had saved his life and his immortal soul. He begged the young man to name his reward, anything he wished. When the shepherd requested two bags of gold, the governor immediately ordered one of the guards (who had mysteriously reappeared now that the demon was gone) to fetch them at once. As planned, the shepherd then headed to the second governor’s castle to repeat the performance almost exactly. It seems that both men had truly mended their ways (at least as far as not begrudging their savior a very simple reward). I don’t personally know if that’s really proof that they’re totally good guys now, but whatever.
The point is that word of this whole adventure naturally made its way back to the duke. In one fell swoop, he now had it confirmed that the astronomer’s dire prediction was absolutely the real deal, so he was in very real danger, but also that he might have a way out of it. He promptly had a wagon drawn by four horses sent to find the shepherd and bring him to the palace to speak with the duke. As soon as the shepherd entered, the duke dropped to his knees and begged the young man to save his soul like he had saved the two governors.
This put the shepherd in something of an awkward place. On the one hand, he didn’t particularly want to cross the demon. His earlier bravado notwithstanding, his sort-of buddy had given him a very clear warning about the consequences of interfering. On the other, he had a kind heart and he wanted to help someone in need. I mean, his harsh treatment of Katcha kind of flies in the face of this, but maybe you could argue that she didn’t need help anymore so much as she was trying to claim the shepherd as hers by force. He made up his mind.
“Your highness, I can’t promise anything. The two governors were something of a special case, and you don’t have that same circumstance – I have to consider my own safety, right? You’ve been just a god-awful duke and one hell of a sinner (pun intended), but if you know that now and you’re really sincere about your change of heart, then…” He sighed. “Dammit, I guess I’ve gotta help you, even if it means I end up dancing in the hellfire instead of you.” The duke swore up and down that he absolutely meant it. He’d prove it to the shepherd and to the people in general if he just had the chance.
The day of the full moon approached slowly, inexorably. The country felt a growing sense of dread and grief as it came. At first, people had openly rejoiced, welcoming the end of this tyrannical triarchy but all three had completely turned their lives around and were now running a model government. The land was getting back on track and headed for a better future than anyone could have hoped for a few months ago, but that might all be wrecked if the duke got his ass dragged to hell. The people could tell that the duke’s reform was legit.
All too soon, the fatal day arrived. The duke dressed himself in his funerary best and sat in his throne room to await the coming of the devil. He did his best to appear calm and composed, as befits a leader, but his pale skin and shaking hands betrayed the stark terror racing through his veins. With no warning, the door flew open as the devil strode into the room. He stood there for a moment, letting the duke drink in the terror before bowing with just a hint of mockery. “Your time has come, Lord Duke. I’ve come to claim you.” His tone was utterly polite, which just made his words all the more chilling.
To his credit, the duke didn’t try to argue or bargain. He knew that he had earned this fate and his short period of change, however earnest, wasn’t enough to alter that. He stood and, without a word, followed the devil out to the palace courtyard. A huge crowd had gathered there, filling every available space. They cried out in dismay to see the duke following the shadowy demon, but it turned to a cry of hope as the shepherd elbowed his way out of the crowd to stand before the devil and the duke. “What is the meaning of this, demon? Get out of here at once, or there will be trouble!”
The devil eyed the shepherd, his expression equal parts confused and worried. In hushed tones intended not to carry to the crowd, he whispered to his old friend. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bud? Don’t you remember what I told you? Don’t make me hurt you.” The shepherd leaned in to whisper back. “I don’t care about the duke, dude – I’m worried about you. Haven’t you heard? Katcha heard about your little visit today. She’s out there somewhere and looking for you!” At that terrible bit of news, the devil somehow managed to go pale despite his ink black form. Abandoning the duke where he stood, the devil turned and ran the fuck away as fast as his demonic power would let him and didn’t stop until he got safely back to hell.
The shepherd laughed once he was sure the devil was gone. He’d been right it seemed – demons were easy to trick. The whole thing with Katcha was a bald-faced lie. He had no idea what Katcha was up to these days, or even if she was still alive. Apparently, neither did the demon. For his part, the duke was so grateful for the shepherd’s assistance (which had actually been real this time and not just a complicated ruse) that he appointed him chief advisor. This turned out to be a fantastic move as the clever shepherd had a knack for politics and gave great advice for the rest of his days.
So that’s the story of Katcha and the devil, even if she somehow manages to mostly disappear from her own damned story. There are a lot of variations on this style of tale from all over the place (including the famous song The Devil Went Down to Georgia by the Charlie Daniels Band) that follow the same basic riff of the devil trying to trick a mortal only to get outsmarted, but I’ve never seen another abandon the title character to focus on a random passerby instead who, it turns out, is the clever one rather than the apparent protagonist. There’s often some kind of warning early in the story about the stranger’s true identity. In this case, it was the green hunter’s garb. Although modern audiences tend to think of red as the devil’s color, older stories consider it to be green.
It was the color of envy and of wild, uncivilized places and of ancient pagan gods like the Green Man, who got cast as devils in Christianized updates to the stories. This tale, in fact, may very well be just such a Christian rewrite of an older story where the wicked stranger was some supernatural creature rather than a demon, but the basic tale (in this case) remains more or less unchanged. And speaking of encounters with the Devil, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s quote-unquote “hero” is Stingy Jack.
One of the most iconic images of Halloween is of course the jack-o’lantern. This particular custom is centuries old, though it wasn’t originally linked with the Halloween holiday (or indeed to the customary pumpkins). Back in the 17th century, jack-o’lanterns in the British isles were carved from turnips instead. One of the earliest mentions of this practice is from a 1640 letter from English author James Howell describing a turnip carved into a terrifying face and used to scare women and children. It was a common practice to use the flaming visage in after-dark pranks (think the Legend of Sleepy Hollow from Episode 78 – last year’s Halloween special – and you’ll be in the right ballpark). Irish immigrants brought the tradition to the US in the early 1800s, where it has flourished. The name jack-o’lantern can also be written as jack-in-the-lantern and, as the name might suggest, this is where Stingy Jack comes in.
The idea of the jack-o’lantern was once linked to the will o’ the wisp, the naturally occurring phosphorescent lights that dance across the bogs. These lights are the result of spontaneous combustion of swamp gasses, but it’s completely understandable that people once thought that these were some sort of malicious prankster spirit out to lead travelers to their dooms in the swamp. Old legends sometimes attributed these dancing lights to the figure of Stingy Jack. There are of course many versions of the story, so I’ll be using a children’s story published in 1892 as the main basis, though I may sprinkle in some fun details from other versions as I see fit.
Long, long ago on the green shores of Ireland on the banks of a stream near the ford, there lived a man named Jack. In some versions, he was a blacksmith, which is why he lived on the water. In others, he was a cobbler. Now in every version Jack was just the worst. He was known far and wide as the meanest, surliest, most miserable miser to be found. Even worse, he was a drunk with a cruel sense of humor who loved to play mean-spirited pranks on anyone around. Much like Katcha from our main tale, no one would ever think to ask Jack for a favor because he would undoubtedly be a dick about it. Even the starving beggars knew to leave Jack alone. Unlike Katcha, Jack had managed to get himself a wife, though she absolutely did not deserve the misery of being married to this asshole. Everyone avoided her almost as much as Jack because it wasn’t worth the risk of coming across the man himself.
On one particular day, Jack had been in the village drinking away his cares and his money (the only thing he would freely spend his gold on). He had lost track of time and now he was faced with the unpleasant prospect of having to walk alone through the dark, dangerous woods between the tavern and the ford. He hated the idea of making a trek through woods undoubtedly brimming with monsters and murderers, but he hated the idea of spending silver on lodgings at the inn even more (since he knew no one would let him crash on their couch). If it didn’t get him drunk, Jack wasn’t interested in spending money on it. Steeling his nerve, off he went on his horse.
As he walked, he began to hear a low moaning coming from somewhere up ahead. It was an altogether unpleasant sound that made him think again of what could be lurking in the darkness. Whatever faults Jack had (and there were plenty), cowardice was not among them. His curiosity was stronger than his fear and he decided to investigate. “Hey, who’s out there making that infernal racket?” The moaning came again, louder, and he followed it on foot.
To his surprise, Jack found a tattered old man sitting propped up against a tree dressed in rags. “Oh good stranger! I beg you to help me. I have lost my way in the woods and cannot cross the ford on foot. Please take me to human habitation so that I can be safe from the night else I fear I will die of hunger and cold out here.” Something about this piteous man moved Jack’s soul (which he was a little surprised to find he had at all). Taking off his own coat, he wrapped the man up and put him on his horse and carried him home.
Jack’s wife was utterly shocked to see her husband returning with a stranger in tow on his own horse. She was more than a little convinced that he had been bewitched but, unlike Jack, she had a good heart and was willing to help the stranger out without it being an utterly alien move. Despite himself, Jack found himself feeding the stranger with food his own money had bought, which was totally unlike him. Putting the fellow to bed, Jack slept next to the fire.
In the morning, he was awoken to a dazzling light. It hurt his eyes, even after they adjusted, but he could at least make out a figure standing in his cottage. It was an angel clad in purest white with enormous wings that nearly filled the room. “Mortal, I am one of those charged with watching over mankind. I heard that not one grain of compassion lay in your stony heart and decided to test you. To my surprise, you have passed and in thanks, I will grant you three wishes. Think carefully about what you ask!”
Jack did just that and thought long and hard about his wishes. He might have had an off night last night, but he was still that miserable bastard he’d always been and he was about to prove it. “Okay angel, here’s what I want. See that chair over by the fire? That’s MY special chair and I don’t like people sitting in it. I wish for you to make it so that if someone sits in that chair, they can’t stand up again unless I allow them.” The angel frowned but nodded. “See that tool box by the wall? I wish that if anyone touches anything in my toolbox, they’ll be unable to move or to pull their hand away unless I say so.” The angel quirked a very judgmental eyebrow but nodded. “Lastly, I wish that if anyone pulls a branch from my sycamore tree out in the yard, they’ll be unable to release it until I say so. I’m sick of people borrowing my tools and stealing my tree branches.”
The angel looked at Jack with a deeply sorrowful expression, but granted him all three wishes. It had made a promise, after all. Their business concluded, the angel departed. Jack rubbed his hands together gleefully, utterly unaffected by the angel’s meaningful looks. Considering that the angel didn’t really put any limits on the wishes, Jack really squandered this opportunity on some very petty, mean-spirited things. Still, it seemed to have worked out for Jack. With the angel’s departure, Jack’s home seemed to be blessed. Jack’s household prospered and his children (poor wife and poor kids for having to put up with bad old Jack) did well. Material success was theirs, but no one loved Jack for he was still a miserable little bastard.
Time passed, maybe 15 to 20 years, and Jack enjoyed sitting in his favorite chair that no one else was allowed to sit in. In fact, he was in that very chair one night smoking his pipe when a foul odor filled the air. “Hey, who cut a terrible fart right by my chair?” Looking up, he saw a terrible figure in his doorway, tall, dark, and diabolically terrifying, standing on what were clearly cloven hooves, and, so the story goes, politely tucking his tail under one arm. Jack was terrified down to his soul (which he had kind of forgotten about having for the last decade and a half) but he was still no coward. He put on his best brave face and swaggering attitude, which he used a lot when backed into a corner. “And what might you be wanting here, sir?”
The devil smiled widely. “You, in fact. Your time has come and my master has sent me to collect you. I can promise you a very warm reception when we get to Hell.” Jack nodded, thoughts spinning. “Well, so be it I suppose. If I’m gonna go out, I might as well go out in style, if you don’t mind. Here, have a seat in my best chair and rest your bones a spell while I go put on my Sunday best. You must be tired after your long journey and it will take a moment for me to change anyway. I couldn’t bear to meet Satan himself in these ratty old duds.”
The devil thanked old Jack for his kindness and sat himself in the comfortable looking chair. It was Jack’s turn to smile. He grabbed a brand-new flail from his toolbox and began to beat the everloving shit out of the devil. The demon had come prepared for many things, but being assaulted by his supposed victim hadn’t ever occurred to him. He screamed and swore and threatened and begged, but he couldn’t seem to stand up and Jack refused to relent. It was enough to make you feel almost bad for a literal servant of damnation. Jack laughed gleefully, delighting in his turning of the tables. “You thought you were gonna drag old Jack to Hell with you, huh? Fat fucking chance! I’ll teach you to come after an upstanding gentleman in his home like this.”
Jack didn’t stop beating on the devil until the flail had literally fallen apart from the violence of it and his arms ached with the effert. Panting, he went to grab another tool from the box, but paused at the devil’s pleading. “Alright, I’ll stop. If you promise to leave me the fuck alone and never come for me again, I’ll let you out of the chair. Deal?” Defeated, the devil agreed to the terms and was allowed to stand at last. Mumbling about a vow of vengeance on Jack’s head, the devil stalked out of the cottage.
Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, was understandably pretty pissed off at his servant for failing a simple pickup so miserably and even more pissed at some upstart mortal for daring to assault a messenger of darkness. He therefore ordered a second demon, not bound by any oath, to go and summon Jack’s wicked soul to a tribunal with a warning to appear or things would just get worse for the human. Jack again met this messenger politely and offered him the comfy seat by the fire. The demon had of course heard the whole story and therefore refused to sit in the cursed chair. “Fuck your chair. I’ll stand, thank you very much. I’m not about to let you beat my ass like you did the previous dude. Now come on, Jack. Time to go.”
Jack sighed. “Alright, you win. It’s a long, rocky road and my shoe has a hole in it. If you wouldn’t mind handing me that awl from the toolbox, I’ll get it fixed up and then we can go.” The demon was happy to get Jack on the road with such a small thing and so didn’t stop to consider if old Jack might have another trick up his sleeve. The devil grabbed the tool in the box and, to his shock and horror, found that he could not let go nor could he pull his hand back out of the box. He was stuck to the box. Laughing with cruel glee, Jack seized the new flail he’d replaced the previous one with and began to beat the everloving shit out of this demon just like had his buddy. Again he made the demon promise to never come for him again before he let him go.
When this second demon returned in bloody failure, Lucifer flew into a wild rage. This simply would not do. Clearly, the lesser demons were not up to this task – Satan would have to go collect Jack himself. It didn’t help matters that none of his messengers were willing to go anywhere near Jack’s cottage. He strode up to Jack’s house by the stream summoning every bit of demonic grandeur he could muster. Peering out through a crack in the wall, Jack was duly impressed and terrified by the sight of the King of Hell come to collect him. He scrambled for some plan to get out of this truly terrible situation but his brain refused to cooperate.
Outside, the Devil thundered and roared for Jack to come out and meet his fate, that there was no way out this time. Satan would not be so easily fooled as a lesser demon. Jack was less willing to come out on his own this time and so the Devil kicked the damned door down and dragged the shaking man outside. Lucifer wasn’t about to hang out inside Jack’s Cabin of Horrors and let himself get trapped. Jack begged the Devil to let him go back inside and get his cane. He was old and weak and couldn’t walk far without it. You wouldn’t part an old man from his walking stick, would you?
The Devil shook his head. “Hell to the no. You’re not going back into that house to get some trick. Hell isn’t meant to be comfortable – you can limp, you asshole.” Jack quailed but shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. If you want me to join you in Hell and you won’t let me get my walking stick, then you’re gonna have to carry me on your back Yoda style. I don’t want that; you don’t want that. I’m heavy, you have a reputation to keep, it’s a whole thing. Okay, how about a compromise – you grab me a nice thick branch from that sycamore tree there to use as a makeshift cane.”
Jack’s contant diatribe was annoying Satan by this point so he reached out to the tree to grab a branch just to shut this asshole up. You know how this goes by now. To his surprise, Lucifer found that his hand bound fast to the tree and he couldn’t escape. Jack wriggled free and ran for a flail to beat on the Devil. He went through not one, not two, but three whole flails over the Devil’s back. Lucifer roared and screamed and stamped the earth until it shook like thunder but Jack didn’t give up. He beat on the Devil from sunup to sundown until Satan finally broke. The broken King of Hell promised that he would never come back for Jack and never send another demon to collect his soul. Jack had officially beaten Hell.
In some versions, Jack instead meets the Devil at a bar and invites him to have a drink. Jack doesn’t want to pay for this particular drink, so he convinces the devil to transform himself into a sixpence that Jack could use to buy their drinks in exchange for Jack’s soul. The Devil thought this a fine bargain and agreed. Jack decided to keep the money instead, putting it in his pocket next to a silver cross which trapped the Devil in his sixpence form. The Devil has to promise not to collect on Jack’s soul for 10 years.
When he does come back in a decade, Jack agrees to go with him but only after the Devil fetches him an apple from yonder tree. For no good reason, the Devil agreed and climbed up only to find that, while he was up there, Jack had carved a cross in the trunk. He was trapped and forced to agree to never come for Jack’s soul in exchange for being freed. Whichever version you prefer, the end was the same. Jack was safe from damnation.
In time, Death came for Jack as it came for all people. He might be clever, but no one can cheat Death. Satan, sure, but not Death. Thanks to his trickery of the Devil, his soul soared up to the pearly gates guarded by Saint Peter. He laughed as Jack presented himself for entry. “Sorry Jack, no go. You had a chance to earn salvation – you could have wished for anything, including getting into heaven, but you wanted petty things instead. Begone.” Disheartened, Jack realized he had no choice but to tuck his tail between his legs and descend to Hell. The Devil had won after all.
The fiends saw Jack (who had become something of an infernal boogeyman) and shut the gates tight against him. Satan himself had ordered that Jack was never to be allowed inside the kingdom of Hell (possibly afraid that Jack would end up staging a coup). He was barred from Heaven and now Hell as well. Fuck, what did that leave? Looking back up towards the mortal world, Jack realized he was going to be stuck wandering the dark void beyond the veil forever, a restless spirit. In a panic, he called out to Lucifer (the morningstar, after all) asking how he was supposed to leave since he had no light to guide him. Smiling vindictively, Satan tossed an ember of hellfire from the burning pits over the fence to help him light his way. With no other option, Jack grabbed the first thing he found – which happened to be a turnip – and placed the ember inside, carving it to let out the light. Forever thereafter, Jack has wandered the earth with his ghostly lantern, earning him the nickname Jack of the Lantern or Jack o’Lantern. We carve our pumpkins today as a mockery of his wicked fate and place them in the windows or by the doors to frighten his vengeful spirit away. So make sure you watch out for old Jack’s vengeful spirit while you’re out trick or treating in the dark. Happy Halloween!
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth and on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re headed to Portugal for some arachnid-themed love stories. You’ll discover why you shouldn’t quit your job on a whim, why you should be kind to the local wildlife, and why you shouldn’t trust a spider with your cock if you value your rooster. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll see why you can totally trust that weird, cold stranger climbing into your bed. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.