Vila Ravijola
The fairy is one of the most famous fantastic creatures of world folklore. We find them in all cultures and climates, in African, Asian and North American stories. Many of them are known by their names and have their own place of residence. Familiarity with the fairy begins in early childhood, listening to fairy tales, watching animated films, movies, reading folk epics. They can be found on television, in magazines, on logos and packaging (an example is the Starbucks logo, which illustrates one of the most famous fairies of European folklore — Meluzina). It is one of the longest-lived and best-known products of medieval fantasy and world folklore.
In our region, a common type of fairy is the brodarica (boatwoman), found near rivers and lakes, though also frequently in mountainous areas. The most famous fairy from our region is Ravijola, who resides on Mount Miroč and is armed with a bow and arrow, much like the Greek goddess Aphrodite or the Roman Diana. These details about her are known from the epic poem “Marko Kraljević and the Fairy,” which describes Marko’s encounter with Ravijola. Here are the verses depicting the climax of their encounter:
“Marko swings his mace
Relentlessly, without mercy,
Strikes the white fairy between the shoulders,
Knocks her to the black earth,
Then begins to beat her with the mace,
Turning her from side to side,
Striking her with his golden mace.”
This description of Marko’s violence toward Ravijola is not an isolated example of his aggression toward fairies in our epic tradition. Ravijola’s cousin, the brodarica fairy, fares similarly in the poem “Marko Kraljević and the Boatwoman Fairy”:
“He swung his light mace,
And struck the boatwoman fairy,
As soon as he hit her lightly,
He laid her to the black earth,
Then walked away, singing through the forest,
While the fairy lay there, barely moving.”
Although the epic poems about Kraljević Marko contain numerous instances of violence against women (with the most notable being “Kraljević Marko and the Arab Girl”), the violence is never driven by misogynistic motives. Beating a fairy with a mace may seem brutal, but a fairy is not an ordinary woman—she is a supernatural being. The contemporary perception of the fairy as a benevolent creature inclined to help humans—fairy godmother—developed during the Romantic period, which idealized the medieval era and similarly softened the image of one of its most dangerous creatures. This romanticized portrayal of the fairy is characteristic of Serbian Romanticism as well, where the fairy is seen as a benevolent supernatural being.
Despite this romanticized depiction, which persists to this day, the truth is that the fairy originated as a malevolent monster and was portrayed this way throughout the Middle Ages. The medieval fairy has its roots in ancient culture: the Latin word for fairy, fata, is related to the verb fatum (fate), alluding to her ability to influence human destiny. This characteristic links her to the ancient Greek Moirai/Roman Parcae, while her erotic nature makes her akin to the ancient nymph, with whom she shares a fondness for water, as fairies in fairy tales are often found near lakes, rivers, or the sea. Her feminine charms, seduction, and beauty serve as tools of deception and as weapons to lure her mortal male victims. Marko Kraljević was aware of the fairy’s demonic nature, which is why he didn’t hesitate to strike her with his mace.
The fairy’s duplicitous nature is evident even in the oldest stories about fairies from Gaelic culture, where she is linked to the disappearance of heroes into the otherworld. Irish stories of journeys and adventures (immram and echtra), such as Immram Brain (Bran’s Voyage) and Echtra Condla (Condla’s Adventure), are genres that depict a hero’s departure to the otherworld after an invitation from a fairy woman. Upon returning home, he realizes that the time spent with the fairy passed more slowly than in the mortal world, and everyone he once knew has died. There are two equally frightening endings to the story—either the hero dies, or he vanishes into the otherworld after deciding to return to the fairy kingdom.
Interestingly, records of fairies after these Gaelic stories, thought to have originated in the 8th century, are almost nonexistent until the 12th century. The renewed interest in fairies begins in the 12th century in collections of marvels and supernatural tales by writers like Walter Map, Geoffrey of Clairvaux, and Gervase of Tilbury. In these stories, the fairy becomes the wife of a hero who accompanies him to the mortal world. The authors often describe her as a snake-like, demonic woman hiding her true form, using terms like lamia or striga to describe her, drawing parallels with the monstrous women of ancient Greek mythology, who would deceive their victims through seduction.
Why does the fairy suddenly return to collective memory, and why does she come to our mortal world?
Jacques Le Goff, a historian and expert on medieval culture, noted that the supernatural also had a political function, calling this phenomenon “political supernatural.” In all early stories of a supernatural wife, the mortal hero belongs to the high social class of military nobility. He is a real historical figure, known by personal name, geographic location/nickname, or physical characteristic (from which surnames later developed). The union of the fairy with a mortal always results in offspring, whose quality is guaranteed by their supernatural origin. Many great dynasties emphasized their supernatural ancestry—Plantagenet court writers wrote of their demonic ancestress from the 11th century, while the Lusignans and their relatives, the Luxembourgs, spoke of the dragon woman Melusine (shortened from Mere des Lusignan—mother of the Lusignans). The story of a man married to a supernatural woman, formed at the beginning of the 12th century, was so influential and popular that by the end of the century, many European noble houses claimed to be descendants of this monstrous lady.
The story always begins with the protagonist setting out on a hunt, chasing an enchanted animal, typically a wild boar or, more often, a deer. The motif of the hunt for the white stag, which leads the hero to the fairy, is a topos—a common theme in medieval tales about the hero’s journey into the fairy kingdom. The future wife is usually encountered near a body of water: a lake, river, or sea, depending on the setting of the story. Bewitched by her appearance, the hero falls in love at first sight, and the fairy agrees to come into his world under certain conditions. The condition for her joining him is a prohibition placed upon the husband (which can take many forms: he must not look at her while she bathes, must not touch her with iron—which symbolically means not to strike her, etc.). Their love in this world is long-lasting and fruitful, but the trust between the spouses is broken when the husband violates the prohibition, leading to the fairy’s departure.
The prohibition set as a condition for the fairy to leave with the hero is a key element of the story and represents yet another common theme in folklore. We find this in ancient myths about Cupid and Psyche, Zeus and Semele, Peleus and Thetis, where a supernatural being unites with a mortal, only to leave them after a certain unfortunate event. The prohibition placed on the mortal protagonist often involves offending the fairy or even merely observing her. This is no different in our region, where in the story “Vilina Gora,” fairies render a curious onlooker mute and blind after watching their dance. The fairy boatwoman, whom Marko Kraljević “struck down to the black earth,” also intended to blind the hero after he visited her abode to drink cold spring water without paying the ferry fee. Marko’s conflict with Ravijojla also stems from an offense against the fairy, specifically breaking her prohibition. The poem opens with a description of the friendship between Marko and his blood brother Miloš, to whom Ravijojla had forbidden to sing. Marko Kraljević asks his blood brother Miloš to sing, and Miloš responds:
“But my brother, Kraljević Marko, I would sing to you, brother, But last night I drank too much wine In the mountain with the fairy Ravijojla, And the Fairy threatened me, If she hears me sing, She will shoot me, In my throat and my living heart.”
After some persuasion, Miloš sings anyway, but is soon struck in the throat and heart by Ravijojla’s arrow, which enrages Kraljević Marko. His reaction, described at the beginning of this text, results in Ravijojla’s pleas for mercy and the revival of Miloš. From a modern perspective, the poem might seem strange and cruel, but every detail is carefully thought out. Ravijojla’s love for wine serves to illustrate Miloš’s dealings with a supernatural being, highlighting his heroic qualities and uniqueness. Miloš and Ravijojla are not depicted as equals; in fact, he is superior to her (specifically in singing), which provokes her jealousy and the imposition of the prohibition. Our epic respects the basic pattern of Western European fairy tales: the hero meets the fairy, receives a prohibition, breaks it, and faces the consequences. However, Western European stories do not feature a hero like Kraljević Marko, ready to confront a fairy with a mace! The ultimate goal of the poem is to glorify Marko’s heroism, whose strength can tame even a supernatural force capable of raising people from the dead. Marko understands that the fairy is, in fact, a monster, as does the epic poet who pits them against each other. Thanks to Marko’s courage—manifested in his willingness to confront the monster—his blood brother regains his life.
It’s hard to imagine a harsher treatment than Marko’s, but we possess a rich lyrical-epic tradition. While in Western literature, the fairy becomes the wife of a chosen hero who possesses qualities making him worthy of her attention and offspring, in our region, it is the fairy who is chosen. In Western European tales, the fairy reveals herself to an individual she draws near through an enchanted animal, while instances of fairies being violently taken as wives are quite rare. These rare examples of fairy abduction in Europe are primarily found among the Germans and, naturally, in the Balkans. Examples of forced marriages with fairies in our tradition include the songs How Novak’s Fairy Lover Escaped and The Wedding of Banović Sekula with the Fairy. Both songs are very similar to Germanic tales of swan maidens, in which the protagonist tricks the fairy into marriage by stealing her animal skin. Novak and Sekula also hid their wives’ wings and feathers, and Sekula’s mountain fairy was baptized before the forced wedding. While Western European fairies choose their husbands and even set conditions for marriage, Balkan fairies have only two options—to accept the suitor or to die. The description of Sekula’s “proposal” in one of the preserved versions is quite vivid:
“He wrapped her thrice with his belt, And the fourth time with his sword belt, Then he softly spoke to the fairy: ‘Do not fear, mountain fairy, I will not harm you, I will take you as my lover, You will live with me forever, It will be good for both you and me.’
It was certainly good for him, as he enjoyed the fairy so much that she bore him nine sons, and it’s clear how it was for her since, like Novak’s fairy, she fled from her husband at the first opportunity. Before the cunning escape of the fairy wife, Sekula’s sons mysteriously disappear, plunging him into despair. In reality, the sons had married fairies and gone to the otherworld. Since stories of supernatural wives are primarily connected to offspring—specifically the quality of offspring—the motif of the fairy taking the children is quite rare in Western European tradition. Even when it appears, it usually involves female offspring, either because their gender makes them more like their mother or because the medieval mindset placed less value on female children. The poet emphasizes Sekula’s tragic fate through the sudden departure of his numerous, healthy male offspring, brought about by his marriage to the capricious fairy. The union between a mortal and a supernatural woman has roots in ancient literature, but while such unions were common and even desirable in antiquity, in medieval literature, the aim is to provoke shock. Descriptions of a fairy’s transformation in medieval literature likely elicited a sense of horror in a devout medieval reader, an effect that would be difficult to replicate today, as modern audiences are more accustomed to shocking twists and depictions and are generally less sensitive. For a Balkan listener of the epic, such an effect would come from the unexpected loss of numerous healthy male offspring. In the end (in this version of the song), Sekula is left alone, without a wife or descendants. From today’s perspective, Sekula deserves such an outcome.”
Vilina plodnost je u našoj tradiciji vrlo često vezana za gradnju, što pokazuju pesme u kojima vila zida grad svojim rukama: Vilin čudesni grad iVila zida grad. Vilino interesovanje za gradnju nalazimo i u zapadnoj Evropi, tačnije u najpoznatijem srednjovekovnom romanu o vili, Roman de Mélusine, nastalom u 14 veku. Ovaj roman u prozi predstavlja najpoznatije srednjovekovno delo o Meluzini, nastalo u svrhe političke propagande Lizinjana. Meluzina je ovde prikazana kao finansijer i nadzornik brojnih graditeljskih poduhvata: gradova, zamkova, utvrđenja i crkvi, što predstavlja vrlo netipičan prikaz srednjovekovne dame. Poput Sekuline supruge i Meluzina ima brojno muško potomstvo — deset sinova. Dok se natprirodnа priroda Sekulinih sinova ogleda u njihovom odlasku u onostrano, Meluzinini potomci, uprkos herojskim podvizima u Krstaškim ratovima, imaju očigledne fizičke deformitete koji prećutno svedoče o njihovom čudovišnom poreklu.
Vilina vezanost za graditeljsku delatnost očigledna je i u pesmi Zidanje Skadra, s tim što je ovde naglašena i njena čudovišna priroda, jer nailazimo na motiv vile rušiteljke:
Što majstori za dan ga sagrade,
To sve vila za noć obaljuje.
Zidanje Skadra prikazuje svu demonsku prirodu vile, jer ona zahteva ljudsku žrtvu u vidu blizanaca istog imena – Stoje i Stojana, da bi dozvolila gradnju. Budući da graditelji nisu našli blizance koje krase ta imena, vila dobija zamenu u vidu supruge Gojka Mrnjavčevića, koju uzidaju u temelje grada. Žrtvovanje mlade Gojkovice predstavlja jedan od najtužnijih, najtragičnijih momenata narodne poezije. Srceparajući opisi njene žrtve uticali su i na Andrića, čiji osvrt na Zidanje Skadra u romanu Na Drini Ćuprija, poprima možda epskije dimenzije od samog epa, pružajući još tragičniju i suroviju verziju žrtve vili:
Najposle su sejmeni pronašli u jednom udaljenom selu dvoje bliznadi, pri sisi, i oteli ih silom vezirove vlasti; ali kad su ih poveli, majka nije htela da se odvoji od njih, nego je kukajući i plačući, neosetljiva za psovke i udarce, posrtala za njima sve do Višegrada. Tu je uspela da se progura pred Neimara.
Decu su uzidali, jer druge nije moglo biti, ali Neimar se, kako kažu, sažalio i ostavio na stubovima otvore kroz koje je nesrećna majka mogla da doji svoju žrtvovanu decu. To su ovi fino srezani slepi prozori, uski kao puškarnice, u kojima se sada gnezde divlji golubovi. Kao spomen na to već stotinama godina teče iz zidina majčino mleko. To su oni beli, tanki mlazevi što u određeno doba godine cure iz besprekornih sastavaka, i vidi im se neizbrisiv trag na kamenu.
Romantizam konačno obuzdava vilinu plahovitu narav, pa ona postaje naklonjenija ljudima. U srpskom romantizmu nailazimo na zanimljive prikaze vile koji su u funkciji uobličavanja kulta pesnika Branka Radičevića, koji se razvija ubrzo nakon njegove smrti i prenosa posmrtnih ostataka iz Beča na Stražilovo 1883 godine. Kompozicija „Branko i vila“nastala je kao programska predstava vezana za uobličavanje ideje o srpskom nacionalnom pesniku. Ona je tokom poslednjih decenija XIX veka i prvih decenija XX veka stekla status patriotske ikone, te su mnogobrojne replike dospele i u mnoge kuće širom Vojvodine. Ideja uobličena još u srednjem veku, po kojoj samo odabrani mogu da šuruju sa vilama, u romantizmu kao dostojnog njenog društva, umesto heroja naoružanog buzdovanom, vidi heroja naoružanog intelektom.
LITERATURE
Alberto Varvaro, Apparizioni fantastiche – tradizioni folcloriche e letteratura nel Medioevo, Il Mulino, Bologna, 1994, pp. 69-91.
Gervasio di Tilbury, Otia imperialia – libro III le meraviglie del mondo, edited by Fortunata Latella, Carocci editore, 2010., pp. 197-201; 245-257.
Gillian M. E. Alban, Melusine the Serpent Goddess in A. S. Byatt’s ‘Possession’ and in Mythology, Lexington Books, 2003, p. 197.
Žak le Gof, Srednjovekovno imaginarno, Izdavačka knjižarnica Zorana Stojanovića, Sremski Karlovci, 1999, p. 43.
Jacques Le Goff, Melusina materna e dissodatrice, Tempo della Chiesa e tempo del mercante, Einaudi editore, Torino, 1977, pp. 287-312.
Laurence Harf-Lancner, Morgana e Melusina: la nascita delle fate nel Medioevo, Einaudi, Torino 1989, pp. 9-41; 176-309.
Kako je Novaku utekla vila ljubovca, Epske narodne pesme – Bugarštice, Narodna knjiga, Beograd, 1965, pp. 75-76.
Kraljević Marko i vila, Epske narodne pesme – Kraljević Marko, Narodna knjiga, Beograd, 1965, pp. 10-13.
Miroslav Timotijević, Guslar kao simbolična figura srpskog nacionalnog pevača, in Zbornik Narodnog muzeja – istorija umetnosti XVII/2, Beograd, 2004, pp. 256-257.
Online Sources:
Dejan Ajdačić, O vilama u narodnim baladama (online text)
Ivo Andrić, Na Drini ćuprija, 1945. (pdf download)
Jasmina Trajkov, Branko i vila – vizuelna kultura i kult nacionalnog heroja, in Kultura, no. 131, 2011, pp. 123-133. (pdf download)
Slavica Lukić, Sižejni model „Sekula i vila“ u dijahronijskoj i sinhronijskoj perspektivi, in Folkloristika, 1/1, 2016, pp. 59-77. (pdf download)