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Household Tales
By
Brothers Grimm
Contents
1
The Frog-King, or Iron Henry
2
Cat and Mouse in Partnership
4
The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was
5
The Wolf and the Seven Little Kids.
11
Little Brother and Little Sister.
13
The Three Little Men in the Wood.
18
The Straw, the Coal, and the Bean.
23
The Mouse, the Bird, and the Sausage.
29
The Devil With the Three Golden Hairs.
36
The Wishing-Table, the Gold-Ass, and the Cudgel in the Sack
51
Fundevogel (Bird-foundling)
54
The Knapsack, the Hat, and the Horn.
71
How Six Men Got on in the World
78
The Old Man and His Grandson
80
The Death of the Little Hen
87
The Poor Man and the Rich Man
88
The Singing, Springing Lark
92
The King of the Golden Mountain
94
The Peasant's Wise Daughter
102
The Willow-Wren and the Bear
106
The Poor Miller's Boy and the Cat.
115
The Bright Sun Brings It to Light.
121
The King's Son Who Feared Nothing.
125
The Devil and his Grandmother
130
One-eye, Two-eyes, and Three-eyes.
131
Fair Katrinelje and Pif-Paf-Poltrie.
133
The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces.
135
The White Bride and the Black One.
137
The Three Black Princesses
141
The Lambkin and the Little Fish
147
The Old Man Made Young Again
148
The Lord's Animals and the Devil's.
157
The Sparrow And His Four Children.
158
The Story of Schlauraffen Land
159
The Ditmarsch Tale of Wonders
173
The Bittern and the Hoopoe
178
Master Pfriem (Master Cobbler's Awl).
179
The Goose-Girl at the Well
182
The Little Folks' Presents
188
The Spindle, The Shuttle, and the Needle.
199
The Boots of Buffalo-Leather
Legend
1 St. Joseph in the Forest
Legend
4 Poverty and Humility Lead to Heaven.
Legend
6 The Three Green Twigs
Legend
7 Our Lady's Little Glass
In old
times when wishing still helped one, there lived a king whose daughters were
all beautiful, but the youngest was so beautiful that the sun itself, which=
has
seen so much, was astonished whenever it shone in her face. Close by the Ki=
ng's
castle lay a great dark forest, and under an old lime-tree in the forest wa=
s a
well, and when the day was very warm, the King's child went out into the fo=
rest
and sat down by the side of the cool fountain, and when she was dull she to=
ok a
golden ball, and threw it up on high and caught it, and this ball was her
favorite plaything.
Now it
so happened that on one occasion the princess's golden ball did not fall in=
to
the little hand which she was holding up for it, but on to the ground beyon=
d,
and rolled straight into the water. The King's daughter followed it with her
eyes, but it vanished, and the well was deep, so deep that the bottom could=
not
be seen. On this she began to cry, and cried louder and louder, and could n=
ot
be comforted. And as she thus lamented some one said to her, "What ails
thee, King's daughter? Thou weepest so that even a stone would show pity.&q=
uot;
She looked round to the side from whence the voice came, and saw a frog
stretching forth its thick, ugly head from the water. "Ah! old
water-splasher, is it thou?" said she; "I am weeping for my golden
ball, which has fallen into the well."
"Be
quiet, and do not weep," answered the frog, "I can help thee, but=
what
wilt thou give me if I bring thy plaything up again?" "Whatever t=
hou
wilt have, dear frog," said she--"My clothes, my pearls and jewel=
s, and
even the golden crown which I am wearing."
The
frog answered, "I do not care for thy clothes, thy pearls and jewels, =
or
thy golden crown, but if thou wilt love me and let me be thy companion and<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> play-fellow, and sit by thee at thy
little table, and eat off thy little golden plate, and drink out of thy lit=
tle
cup, and sleep in thy little bed---if thou wilt promise me this I will go d=
own
below, and bring thee thy golden ball up again."
"Oh
yes," said she, "I promise thee all thou wishest, if thou wilt bu=
t bring
me my ball back again." She, however, thought, "How the silly frog
does talk! He lives in the water with the other frogs, and croaks, and can =
be
no companion to any human being!"
But
the frog when he had received this promise, put his head into the water and
sank down, and in a short while came swimmming up again with the ball in his
mouth, and threw it on the grass. The King's daughter was delighted to see =
her
pretty plaything once more, and picked it up, and ran away with it. "W=
ait,
wait," said the frog. "Take me with thee. I can't run as thou
canst." But what did it avail him to scream his croak, croak, after he=
r,
as loudly as he could? She did not listen to it, but ran home and soon forg=
ot
the poor frog, who was forced to go back into his well again.
The
next day when she had seated herself at table with the King and all the
courtiers, and was eating from her little golden plate, something came cree=
ping
splish splash, splish splash, up the marble staircase, and when it had got =
to
the top, it knocked at the door and cried, "Princess, youngest princes=
s,
open the door for me." She ran to see who was outside, but when she op=
ened
the door, there sat the frog in front of it. Then she slammed the door to, =
in
great haste, sat down to dinner again, and was quite frightened. The King s=
aw
plainly that her heart was beating violently, and said, "My child, what
art thou so afraid of? Is the=
re perchance
a giant outside who wants to carry thee away?" "Ah, no," rep=
lied
she. "It is no giant but a disgusting frog."
"What
does a frog want with thee?" "Ah, dear father, yesterday as I was=
in
the forest sitting by the well, playing, my golden ball fell into the water.
And because I cried so, the frog brought it out again for me, and because h=
e so
insisted, I promised him he should be my companion, but I never thought he
would be able to come out of his water! And now he is outside there, and wa=
nts
to come in to me."
In the
meantime it knocked a second time, and cried,
"Princess! youngest princess! Open the
door for me! Dost
thou not know what thou saidst to me
Yest=
erday
by the cool waters of the fountain? Princess,
youngest princess! Open
the door for me!"
Then
said the King, "That which thou hast promised must thou perform. Go and
let him in." She went and opened the door, and the frog hopped in and
followed her, step by step, to her chair. There he sat and cried, "Lif=
t me
up beside thee." She delayed, until at last the King commanded her to =
do
it. When the frog was once on the chair he wanted to be on the table, and w=
hen
he was on the table he said, "Now, push thy little golden plate nearer=
to
me that we may eat together." She did this, but it was easy to see that
she did not do it willingly. The frog enjoyed what he ate, but almost every
mouthful she took choked her. At length he said, "I have eaten and am
satisfied; now I am tired, carry me into thy little room and make thy little
silken bed ready, and we will both lie down and go to sleep."
The
King's daughter began to cry, for she was afraid of the cold frog which she=
did
not like to touch, and which was now to sleep in her pretty, clean little b=
ed.
But the King grew angry and said, "He who helped thee when thou wert in
trouble ought not afterwards to be despised by thee." So she took hold=
of
the frog with two fingers, carried him upstairs, and put him in a corner. B=
ut
when she was in bed he crept to her and said, "I am tired, I want to s=
leep
as well as thou, lift me up or I will tell thy father." Then she was
terribly angry, and took him up and threw him with all her might against the
wall. "Now, thou wilt be quiet, odious frog," said she. But when =
he
fell down he was no frog but a King's son with beautiful kind eyes. He by h=
er
father's will was now her dear companion and husband. Then he told her how =
he
had been bewitched by a wicked witch, and how no one could have delivered h=
im from
the well but herself, and that to-morrow they would go together into his
kingdom. Then they went to sleep, and next morning when the sun awoke them,=
a
carriage came driving up with eight white horses, which had white ostrich
feathers on their heads, and were harnessed with golden chains, and behind
stood the young King's servant Faithful Henry. Faithful Henry had been so
unhappy when his master was changed into a frog, that he had caused three i=
ron
bands to be laid round his heart, lest it should burst with grief and sadne=
ss.
The carriage was to conduct the young King into his Kingdom. Faithful Henry
helped them both in, and placed himself behind again, and was full of joy
because of this deliverance. And when they had driven a part of the way the
King's son heard a cracking behind him as if something had broken. So he tu=
rned
round and cried, "Henry, the carriage is breaking."
"No,
master, it is not the carriage. It is a band from my heart, which was put t=
here
in my great pain when you were a frog and imprisoned in the well." Aga=
in
and once again while they were on their way something cracked, and each time
the King's son thought the carriage was breaking; but it was only the bands
which were springing from the heart of faithful Henry because his master was
set free and was happy.
A
certain cat had made the acquaintance of a mouse, and had said so much to h=
er
about the great love and friendship she felt for her, that at length the mo=
use
agreed that they should live and keep house together. "But we must mak=
e a
provision for winter, or else we shall suffer from hunger," said the c=
at,
"and you, little mouse, cannot venture everywhere, or you will be caug=
ht
in a trap some day." The good advice was followed, and a pot of fat was
bought, but they did not know where to put it. At length, after much
consideration, the cat said, "I know no place where it will be better =
stored
up than in the church, for no one dares take anything away from there. We w=
ill
set it beneath the altar, and not touch it until we are really in need of
it." So the pot was placed in safety, but it was not long before the c=
at
had a great yearning for it, and said to the mouse, "I want to tell you
something, little mouse; my cousin has brought a little son into the world,=
and
has asked me to be godmother; he is white with brown spots, and I am to hold
him over the font at the christening. Let me go out to-day, and you look after the house by yourself.&=
quot;
"Yes, yes," answered the mouse, "by all means go, and if you=
get
anything very good, think of me, I should like a drop of sweet red christen=
ing
wine too." All this, however, was untrue; the cat had no cousin, and h=
ad
not been asked to be godmother. She went straight to the church, stole to t=
he
pot of fat, began to lick at it, and licked the top of the fat off. Then she
took a walk upon the roofs of the town, looked out for opportunities, and t=
hen
stretched herself in the sun, and licked her lips whenever she thought of t=
he
pot of fat, and not until it was evening did she return home. "Well, h=
ere
you are again," said the mouse, "no doubt you have had a merry
day." "All went off well," answered the cat. "What name=
did
they give the child?" "Top off!" said the cat quite coolly.
"Top off!" cried the mouse, "that is a very odd and uncommon
name, is it a usual one in your family?" "What does it signify,&q=
uot;
said the cat, "it is no worse than Crumb-stealer, as your god-children=
are
called."
Before
long the cat was seized by another fit of longing. She said to the mouse,
"You must do me a favour, and once more manage the house for a day alo=
ne.
I am again asked to be godmother, and, as the child has a white ring round =
its
neck, I cannot refuse." The good mouse consented, but the cat crept be=
hind
the town walls to the church, and devoured half the pot of fat. "Nothi=
ng
ever seems so good as what one keeps to oneself," said she, and was qu=
ite
satisfied with her day's work. When she went home the mouse inquired, "=
;And
what was this child christened?" "Half-done," answered the c=
at.
"Half-done! What are you saying? I never heard the name in my life, I'=
ll
wager anything it is not in the calendar!"
The
cat's mouth soon began to water for some more licking. "All good thing=
s go
in threes," said she, "I am asked to stand godmother again. The c=
hild
is quite black, only it has white paws, but with that exception, it has not=
a
single white hair on its whole body; this only happens once every few years,
you will let me go, won't you?" "Top-off! Half-done!" answer=
ed
the mouse, "they are such odd names, they make me very thoughtful.&quo=
t;
"You sit at home," said the cat, "in your dark-grey fur coat=
and
long tail, and are filled with fancies, that's because you do not go out in=
the
daytime." During the cat's absence the mouse cleaned the house, and pu=
t it
in order but the greedy cat entirely emptied the pot of fat. "When
everything is eaten up one has some peace," said she to herself, and w=
ell
filled and fat she did not return home till night. The mouse at once asked =
what
name had been given to the third child. "It will not please you more t=
han
the others," said the cat. "He is called All-gone."
"All-gone," cried the mouse, "that is the most suspicious na=
me
of all! I have never seen it in print. All-gone; what can that mean?" =
and
she shook her head, curled herself up, and lay down to sleep.
From
this time forth no one invited the cat to be god-mother, but when the winter
had come and there was no longer anything to be found outside, the mouse
thought of their provision, and said, "Come cat, we will go to our pot=
of
fat which we have stored up for ourselves---we shall enjoy that."
"Yes," answered the cat, "you will enjoy it as much as you w=
ould
enjoy sticking that dainty tongue of yours out of the window." They se=
t out
on their way, but when they arrived, the pot of fat certainly was still in =
its
place, but it was empty. "Alas!" said the mouse, "now I see =
what
has happened, now it comes to light! You are a true friend! You have devour=
ed
all when you were standing godmother. First top off, then half done, then
--." "Will you hold your tongue," cried the cat, "one w=
ord
more and I will eat you too." "All gone" was already on the =
poor
mouse's lips; scarcely had she spoken it before the cat sprang on her, seiz=
ed
her, and swallowed her down. Verily, that is the way of the world.
Hard
by a great forest dwelt a wood-cutter with his wife, who had an only child,=
a
little girl three years old. They were so poor, however, that they no longer
had daily bread, and did not know how to get food for her. One morning the
wood-cutter went out sorrowfully to his work in the forest, and while he was
cutting wood, suddenly there stood before him a tall and beautiful woman wi=
th a
crown of shining stars on her head, who said to him, "I am the Virgin
Mary, mother of the child Jesus. Thou art poor and needy, bring thy child to
me, I will take her with me and be her mother, and care for her." The
wood-cutter obeyed, brought his child, and gave her to the Virgin Mary, who
took her up to heaven with her. There the child fared well, ate sugar-cakes,
and drank sweet milk, and her clothes were of gold, and the little angels
played with her. And when she was fourteen years of age, the Virgin Mary ca=
lled
her one day and said, "Dear child, I am about to make a long journey, =
so
take into thy keeping the keys of the thirteen doors of heaven. Twelve of t=
hese
thou mayest open, and behold the glory which is within them, but the
thirteenth, to which this little key belongs, is forbidden thee. Beware of
opening it, or thou wilt bring misery on thyself." The girl promised t=
o be
obedient, and when the Virgin Mary was gone, she began to examine the dwell=
ings
of the kingdom of heaven. Each day she opened one of them, until she had ma=
de
the round of the twelve. In each of them sat one of the Apostles in the mid=
st
of a great light, and she rejoiced in all the magnificence and splendour, a=
nd
the little angels who always accompanied her rejoiced with her. Then the
forbidden door alone remained, and she felt a great desire to know what cou=
ld
be hidden behind it, and said to the angels, "I will not quite open it,
and I will not go inside it, but I will unlock it so that we can just see a=
little
through the opening." "Oh no," said the little angels,
"that would be a sin. The Virgin Mary has forbidden it, and it might
easily cause thy unhappiness." Then she was silent, but the desire in =
her
heart was not stilled, but gnawed there and tormented her, and let her have=
no
rest. And once when the angels had all gone out, she thought, "Now I am
quite alone, and I could peep in. If I do it, no one will ever know." =
She
sought out the key, and when she had got it in her hand, she put it in the
lock, and when she had put it in, she turned it round as well. Then the door
sprang open, and she saw there the Trinity sitting in fire and splendour. S=
he
stayed there awhile, and looked at everything in amazement; then she touched
the light a little with her finger, and her finger became quite golden.
Immediately a great fear fell on her. She shut the door violently, and ran
away. Her terror too would not quit her, let her do what she might, and her
heart beat continually and would not be still; the gold too stayed on her
finger, and would not go away, let her rub it and wash it never so much.
It was
not long before the Virgin Mary came back from her journey. She called the =
girl
before her, and asked to have the keys of heaven back. When the maiden gave=
her
the bunch, the Virgin looked into her eyes and said, "Hast thou not op=
ened
the thirteenth door also?" "No," she replied. Then she laid =
her
hand on the girl's heart, and felt how it beat and beat, and saw right well
that she had disobeyed her order and had opened the door. Then she said once
again, "Art thou certain that thou hast not done it?"
"Yes," said the girl, for the second time. Then she perceived the
finger which had become golden from touching the fire of heaven, and saw we=
ll
that the child had sinned, and said for the third time "Hast thou not =
done
it?" "No," said the girl for the third time. Then said the
Virgin Mary, "Thou hast not obeyed me, and besides that thou hast lied,
thou art no longer worthy to be in heaven."
Then
the girl fell into a deep sleep, and when she awoke she lay on the earth be=
low,
and in the midst of a wilderness. She wanted to cry out, but she could bring
forth no sound. She sprang up and wanted to run away, but whithersoever she
turned herself, she was continually held back by thick hedges of thorns thr=
ough
which she could not break. In the desert, in which she was imprisoned, there
stood an old hollow tree, and this had to be her dwelling-place. Into this =
she
crept when night came, and here she slept. Here, too, she found a shelter f=
rom
storm and rain, but it was a miserable life, and bitterly did she weep when=
she
remembered how happy she had been in heaven, and how the angels had played =
with
her. Roots and wild berries were her only food, and for these she sought as=
far
as she could go. In the autumn she picked up the fallen nuts and leaves, and
carried them into the hole. The nuts were her food in winter, and when snow=
and
ice came, she crept amongst the leaves like a poor little animal that she m=
ight
not freeze. Before long her clothes were all torn, and one bit of them after
another fell off her. As soon, however, as the sun shone warm again, she we=
nt
out and sat in front of the tree, and her long hair covered her on all sides
like a mantle. Thus she sat year after year, and felt the pain and the mise=
ry
of the world. One day, when the trees were once more clothed in fresh green,
the King of the country was hunting in the forest, and followed a roe, and =
as
it had fled into the thicket which shut in this part of the forest, he got =
off
his horse, tore the bushes asunder, and cut himself a path with his sword. =
When
he had at last forced his way through, he saw a wonderfully beautiful maide=
n sitting
under the tree; and she sat there and was entirely covered with her golden =
hair
down to her very feet. He stood still and looked at her full of surprise, t=
hen
he spoke to her and said, "Who art thou? Why art thou sitting here in =
the
wilderness?" But she gave no answer, for she could not open her mouth.=
The
King continued, "Wilt thou go with me to my castle?" Then she just
nodded her head a little. The King took her in his arms, carried her to his
horse, and rode home with her, and when he reached the royal castle he caus=
ed
her to be dressed in beautiful garments, and gave her all things in abundan=
ce.
Although she could not speak, she was still so beautiful and charming that =
he
began to love her with all his heart, and it was not long before he married
her.
After
a year or so had passed, the Queen brought a son into the world. Thereupon =
the
Virgin Mary appeared to her in the night when she lay in her bed alone, and
said, "If thou wilt tell the truth and confess that thou didst unlock =
the
forbidden door, I will open thy mouth and give thee back thy speech, but if
thou perseverest in thy sin, and deniest obstinately, I will take thy new-b=
orn
child away with me." Then the queen was permitted to answer, but she
remained hard, and said, "No, I did not open the forbidden door;"=
and
the Virgin Mary took the new-born child from her arms, and vanished with it.
Next morning when the child was not to be found, it was whispered among the
people that the Queen was a man-eater, and had killed her own child. She he=
ard
all this and could say nothing to the contrary, but the King would not beli=
eve
it, for he loved her so much.
When a
year had gone by the Queen again bore a son, and in the night the Virgin Ma=
ry
again came to her, and said, "If thou wilt confess that thou openedst =
the
forbidden door, I will give thee thy child back and untie thy tongue; but if
you continuest in sin and deniest it, I will take away with me this new chi=
ld
also." Then the Queen again said, "No, I did not open the forbidd=
en
door;" and the Virgin took the child out of her arms, and away with he=
r to
heaven. Next morning, when this child also had disappeared, the people decl=
ared
quite loudly that the Queen had devoured it, and the King's councillors
demanded that she should be brought to justice. The King, however, loved he=
r so
dearly that he would not believe it, and commanded the councillors under pa=
in
of death not to say any more about it.
The
following year the Queen gave birth to a beautiful little daughter, and for=
the
third time the Virgin Mary appeared to her in the night and said, "Fol=
low
me." She took the Queen by the hand and led her to heaven, and showed =
her
there her two eldest children, who smiled at her, and were playing with the
ball of the world. When the Queen rejoiced thereat, the Virgin Mary said,
"Is thy heart not yet softened? If thou wilt own that thou openedst the
forbidden door, I will give thee back thy two little sons." But for the
third time the Queen answered, "No, I did not open the forbidden
door." Then the Virgin let her sink down to earth once more, and took =
from
her likewise her third child.
Next
morning, when the loss was reported abroad, all the people cried loudly,
"The Queen is a man-eater. She must be judged," and the King was =
no
longer able to restrain his councillors. Thereupon a trial was held, and as=
she
could not answer, and defend herself, she was condemned to be burnt alive. =
The
wood was got together, and when she was fast bound to the stake, and the fi=
re
began to burn round about her, the hard ice of pride melted, her heart was
moved by repentance, and she thought, "If I could but confess before my
death that I opened the door." Then her voice came back to her, and she
cried out loudly, "Yes, Mary, I did it;" and straight-way rain fe=
ll
from the sky and extinguished the flames of fire, and a light broke forth a=
bove
her, and the Virgin Mary descended with the two little sons by her side, and
the new-born daughter in her arms. She spoke kindly to her, and said, "=
;He
who repents his sin and acknowledges it, is forgiven." Then she gave h=
er
the three children, untied her tongue, and granted her happiness for her wh=
ole
life.
A
certain father had two sons, the elder of whom was smart and sensible, and
could do everything, but the younger was stupid and could neither learn nor
understand anything, and when people saw him they said, "There's a fel=
low
who will give his father some trouble!" When anything had to be done, =
it
was always the elder who was forced to do it; but if his father bade him fe=
tch
anything when it was late, or in the night-time, and the way led through the
churchyard, or any other dismal place, he answered "Oh, no, father, I'=
ll
not go there, it makes me shudder!" for he was afraid. Or when stories
were told by the fire at night which made the flesh creep, the listeners
sometimes said "Oh, it makes us shudder!" The younger sat in a co=
rner
and listened with the rest of them, and could not imagine what they could m=
ean.
"They are always saying 'it makes me shudder, it makes me shudder!' It
does not make me shudder," thought he. "That, too, must be an art of which I understand
nothing."
Now it
came to pass that his father said to him one day "Hearken to me, thou
fellow in the corner there, thou art growing tall and strong, and thou too =
must
learn something by which thou canst earn thy living. Look how thy brother
works, but thou dost not even earn thy salt." "Well, father,"=
; he
replied, "I am quite willing to learn something---indeed, if it could =
but
be managed, I should like to learn how to shudder. I don't understand that =
at
all yet." The elder brother smiled when he heard that, and thought to
himself, "Good God, what a blockhead that brother of mine is! He will
never be good for anything as long as he lives. He who wants to be a sickle
must bend himself betimes."
The
father sighed, and answered him "thou shalt soon learn what it is to
shudder, but thou wilt not earn thy bread by that."
Soon
after this the sexton came to the house on a visit, and the father bewailed=
his
trouble, and told him how his younger son was so backward in every respect =
that
he knew nothing and learnt nothing. "Just think," said he, "=
when
I asked him how he was going to earn his bread, he actually wanted to learn=
to
shudder." "If that be all," replied the sexton, "he can
learn that with me. Send him to me, and I will soon polish him." The
father was glad to do it, for he thought, "It will train the boy a
little." The sexton therefore took him into his house, and he had to r=
ing
the bell. After a day or two, the sexton awoke him at midnight, and bade him
arise and go up into the church tower and ring the bell. "Thou shalt s=
oon
learn what shuddering is," thought he, and secretly went there before =
him;
and when the boy was at the top of the tower and turned round, and was just
going to take hold of the bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the
stairs opposite the sounding hole. "Who is there?" cried he, but =
the
figure made no reply, and did not move or stir. "Give an answer,"
cried the boy, "or take thy self off, thou hast no business here at
night."
The
sexton, however, remained standing motionless that the boy might think he w=
as a
ghost. The boy cried a second time, "What do you want here?---speak if
thou art an honest fellow, or I will throw thee down the steps!" The
sexton thought, "he can't intend to be as bad as his words," utte=
red
no sound and stood as if he were made of stone. Then the boy called to him =
for
the third time, and as that was also to no purpose, he ran against him and
pushed the ghost down the stairs, so that it fell down ten steps and remain=
ed
lying there in a corner. Thereupon he rang the bell, went home, and without
saying a word went to bed, and fell asleep. The sexton's wife waited a long
time for her husband, but he did not come back. At length she became uneasy,
and wakened the boy, and asked, "Dost thou not know where my husband i=
s?
He climbed up the tower before thou didst." "No, I don't know,&qu=
ot;
replied the boy, "but some one was standing by the sounding hole on the
other side of the steps, and as he would neither give an answer nor go away=
, I
took him for a scoundrel, and threw him downstairs, just go there and you w=
ill
see if it was he. I should be sorry if it were." The woman ran away and
found her husband, who was lying moaning in the corner, and had broken his =
leg.
She
carried him down, and then with loud screams she hastened to the boy's fath=
er.
"Your boy," cried she, "has been the cause of a great misfor=
tune!
He has thrown my husband down the steps and made him break his leg. Take the
good-for-nothing fellow away from our house." The father was terrified,
and ran thither and scolded the boy. "What wicked tricks are these?&qu=
ot;
said he, "the devil must have put this into thy head."
"Father," he replied, "do listen to me. I am quite innocent.=
He
was standing there by night like one who is intending to do some evil. I did
not know who it was, and I entreated him three times either to speak or to =
go
away." "Ah," said the father, "I have nothing but
unhappiness with you. Go out of my sight. I will see thee no more."
"Yes,
father, right willingly, wait only until it is day. Then will I go forth and
learn how to shudder, and then I shall, at any rate, understand one art whi=
ch
will support me." "Learn what thou wilt," spake the father, =
"it
is all the same to me. Here are fifty thalers for thee. Take these and go i=
nto
the wide world, and tell no one from whence thou comest, and who is thy fat=
her,
for I have reason to be ashamed of thee." "Yes, father, it shall =
be
as you will. If you desire nothing more than that, I can easily keep it in
mind."
When
day dawned, therefore, the boy put his fifty thalers into his pocket, and w=
ent
forth on the great highway, and continually said to himself, "If I cou=
ld
but shudder! If I could but shudder!" Then a man approached who heard =
this
conversation which the youth was holding with himself, and when they had wa=
lked
a little farther to where they could see the gallows, the man said to him,
"Look, there is the tree where seven men have married the ropemaker's
daughter, and are now learning how to fly. Sit down below it, and wait till
night comes, and you will soon learn how to shudder." "If that is=
all
that is wanted," answered the youth, "it is easily done; but if I
learn how to shudder as fast as that, thou shalt have my fifty thalers. Just
come back to me early in the morning." Then the youth went to the gall=
ows,
sat down below it, and waited till evening came. And as he was cold, he lig=
hted
himself a fire, but at midnight the wind blew so sharply that in spite of h=
is
fire, he could not get warm. And as the wind knocked the hanged men against=
each
other, and they moved backwards and forwards, he thought to himself "T=
hou
shiverest below by the fire, but how those up above must freeze and
suffer!" And as he felt pity for them, he raised the ladder, and climb=
ed
up, unbound one of them after the other, and brought down all seven. Then he
stirred the fire, blew it, and set them all round it to warm themselves. But
they sat there and did not stir, and the fire caught their clothes. So he s=
aid,
"Take care, or I will hang you up again." The dead men, however, =
did
not hear, but were quite silent, and let their rags go on burning. On this =
he
grew angry, and said, "If you will not take care, I cannot help you, I
will not be burnt with you," and he hung them up again each in his tur=
n.
Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep, and the next morning the man =
came
to him and wanted to have the fifty thalers, and said, "Well, dost thou
know how to shudder?" "No," answered he, "how was I to =
get
to know? Those fellows up there did not open their mouths, and were so stup=
id
that they let the few old rags which they had on their bodies get burnt.&qu=
ot;
Then the man saw that he would not get the fifty thalers that day, and went
away saying, "One of this kind has never come my way before."
The youth
likewise went his way, and once more began to mutter to himself, "Ah, =
if I
could but shudder! Ah, if I could but shudder!" A waggoner who was
striding behind him heard that and asked, "Who are you?" "I
don't know," answered the youth. Then the waggoner asked, "From
whence comest thou?" "I know not." "Who is thy
father?" "That I may not tell thee." "What is it that t=
hou
art always muttering between thy teeth." "Ah," replied the
youth, "I do so wish I could shudder, but no one can teach me how to do
it." "Give up thy foolish chatter," said the waggoner.
"Come, go with me, I will see about a place for thee." The youth =
went
with the waggoner, and in the evening they arrived at an inn where they wis=
hed
to pass the night. Then at the entrance of the room the youth again said qu=
ite
loudly, "If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!" The host
who heard this, laughed and said, "If that is your desire, there ought=
to
be a good opportunity for you here." "Ah, be silent," said t=
he
hostess, "so many inquisitive persons have already lost their lives, it
would be a pity and a shame if such beautiful eyes as these should never see
the daylight again."
But
the youth said, "However difficult it may be, I will learn it and for =
this
purpose indeed have I journeyed forth." He let the host have no rest,
until the latter told him, that not far from thence stood a haunted castle
where any one could very easily learn what shuddering was, if he would but
watch in it for three nights. The King had promised that he who would ventu=
re
should have his daughter to wife, and she was the most beautiful maiden the=
sun
shone on. Great treasures likewise lay in the castle, which were guarded by
evil spirits, and these treasures would then be freed, and would make a poor
man rich enough. Already many men had gone into the castle, but as yet none=
had
come out again. Then the youth went next morning to the King and said if he
were allowed he would watch three nights in the haunted castle. The King lo=
oked
at him, and as the youth pleased him, he said, "Thou mayest ask for th=
ree
things to take into the castle with thee, but they must be things without
life." Then he answered, "Then I ask for a fire, a turning lathe,=
and
a cutting-board with the knife." The King had these things carried int=
o the
castle for him during the day. When night was drawing near, the youth went =
up
and made himself a bright fire in one of the rooms, placed the cutting-board
and knife beside it, and seated himself by the turning-lathe. "Ah, if I
could but shudder!" said he, "but I shall not learn it here
either." Towards midnight he was about to poke his fire, and as he was
blowing it, something cried suddenly from one corner, "Au, miau! how c=
old
we are!" "You simpletons!" cried he, "what are you cryi=
ng
about? If you are cold, come and take a seat by the fire and warm yourselve=
s."
And when he had said that, two great black cats came with one tremendous le=
ap
and sat down on each side of him, and looked savagely at him with their fie=
ry
eyes. After a short time, when they had warmed themselves, they said,
"Comrade, shall we have a game at cards?" "Why not?" he
replied, "but just show me your paws." Then they stretched out th=
eir
claws. "Oh," said he, "what long nails you have! Wait, I mus=
t first
cut them for you." Thereupon he seized them by the throats, put them on
the cutting-board and screwed their feet fast. "I have looked at your
fingers," said he, "and my fancy for card-playing has gone,"=
and
he struck them dead and threw them out into the water. But when he had made=
away
with these two, and was about to sit down again by his fire, out from every
hole and corner came black cats and black dogs with red-hot chains, and more
and more of them came until he could no longer stir, and they yelled horrib=
ly,
and got on his fire, pulled it to pieces, and tried to put it out. He watch=
ed
them for a while quietly, but at last when they were going too far, he seiz=
ed
his cutting-knife, and cried, "Away with ye, vermin," and began to
cut them down. Part of them ran away, the others he killed, and threw out i=
nto
the fish-pond. When he came back he fanned the embers of his fire again and
warmed himself. And as he thus sat, his eyes would keep open no longer, and=
he
felt a desire to sleep. Then he looked round and saw a great bed in the cor=
ner.
"That is the very thing for me," said he, and got into it. When he
was just going to shut his eyes, however, the bed began to move of its own
accord, and went over the whole of the castle. "That's right," sa=
id
he, "but go faster." Then the bed rolled on as if six horses were
harnessed to it, up and down, over thresholds and steps, but suddenly hop, =
hop,
it turned over upside down, and lay on him like a mountain. But he threw qu=
ilts
and pillows up in the air, got out and said, "Now any one who likes, m=
ay
drive," and lay down by his fire, and slept till it was day. In the mo=
rning
the King came, and when he saw him lying there on the ground, he thought the
evil spirits had killed him and he was dead. Then said he, "After all =
it
is a pity,---he is a handsome man." The youth heard it, got up, and sa=
id,
"It has not come to that yet." Then the King was astonished, but =
very
glad, and asked how he had fared. "Very well indeed," answered he;
"one night is past, the two others will get over likewise." Then =
he
went to the innkeeper, who opened his eyes very wide, and said, "I nev=
er
expected to see thee alive again! Hast thou learnt how to shudder yet?"
"No," said he, "it is all in vain. If some one would but tell
me."
The
second night he again went up into the old castle, sat down by the fire, and
once more began his old song, "If I could but shudder." When midn=
ight
came, an uproar and noise of tumbling about was heard; at first it was low,=
but
it grew louder and louder. Then it was quiet for awhile, and at length with=
a loud
scream, half a man came down the chimney and fell before him.
"Hollo!" cried he, "another half belongs to this. This is too
little!" Then the uproar began again, there was a roaring and howling,=
and
the other half fell down likewise. "Wait," said he, "I will =
just
blow up the fire a little for thee." When he had done that and looked
round again, the two pieces were joined together, and a frightful man was
sitting in his place. "That is no part of our bargain," said the =
youth,
"the bench is mine." The man wanted to push him away; the youth, =
however,
would not allow that, but thrust him off with all his strength, and seated
himself again in his own place. Then still more men fell down, one after the
other; they brought nine dead men's legs and two skulls, and set them up and
played at nine-pins with them. The youth also wanted to play and said
"Hark you, can I join you?" "Yes, if thou hast any money.&qu=
ot;
"Money enough," replied he, "but your balls are not quite ro=
und."
Then he took the skulls and put them in the lathe and turned them till they
were round. "There, now, they will roll better!" said he.
"Hurrah! Now it goes merrily!" He played with them and lost some =
of
his money, but when it struck twelve, everything vanished from his sight. He
lay down and quietly fell asleep. Next morning the King came to inquire aft=
er
him. "How has it fared with you this time?" asked he. "I have
been playing at nine-pins," he answered, "and have lost a couple =
of
farthings." "Hast thou not shuddered then?" "Eh,
what?" said he, "I have made merry. If I did but know what it was=
to
shudder!"
The
third night he sat down again on his bench and said quite sadly, "If I
could but shudder." When it grew late, six tall men came in and brough=
t a
coffin. Then said he, "Ha, ha, that is certainly my little cousin, who=
died
only a few days ago," and he beckoned with his finger, and cried "=
;Come,
little cousin, come." They placed the coffin on the ground, but he wen=
t to
it and took the lid off, and a dead man lay therein. He felt his face, but =
it
was cold as ice. "Stop," said he, "I will warm thee a little=
,"
and went to the fire and warmed his hand and laid it on the dead man's face,
but he remained cold. Then he took him out, and sat down by the fire and la=
id
him on his breast and rubbed his arms that the blood might circulate again.=
As
this also did no good, he thought to himself "When two people lie in b=
ed
together, they warm each other," and carried him to the bed, covered h=
im
over and lay down by him. After a short time the dead man became warm too, =
and
began to move. Then said the youth, "See, little cousin, have I not wa=
rmed
thee?" The dead man, however, got up and cried, "Now will I stran=
gle
thee."
"What!"
said he, "is that the way thou thankest me? Thou shalt at once go into=
thy
coffin again," and he took him up, threw him into it, and shut the lid.
Then came the six men and carried him away again. "I cannot manage to
shudder," said he. "I shall never learn it here as long as I
live."
Then a
man entered who was taller than all others, and looked terrible. He was old,
however, and had a long white beard. "Thou wretch," cried he, &qu=
ot;thou
shalt soon learn what it is to shudder, for thou shalt die." "Not=
so
fast," replied the youth. "If I am to die, I shall have to have a=
say
in it." "I will soon seize thee," said the fiend. "Soft=
ly,
softly, do not talk so big. I am as strong as thou art, and perhaps even
stronger." "We shall see," said the old man. "If thou a=
rt
stronger, I will let thee go---come, we will try." Then he led him by =
dark
passages to a smith's forge, took an axe, and with one blow struck an anvil
into the ground. "I can do better than that," said the youth, and
went to the other anvil. The old man placed himself near and wanted to look=
on,
and his white beard hung down. Then the youth seized the axe, split the anv=
il
with one blow, and struck the old man's beard in with it. "Now I have
thee," said the youth. "Now it is thou who will have to die."
Then he seized an iron bar and beat the old man till he moaned and entreated
him to stop, and he would give him great riches. The youth drew out the axe=
and
let him go. The old man led him back into the castle, and in a cellar showe=
d him
three chests full of gold. "Of these," said he, "one part is=
for
the poor, the other for the king, the third is thine." In the meantime=
it
struck twelve, and the spirit disappeared; the youth, therefore, was left in
darkness. "I shall still be able to find my way out," said he, and
felt about, found the way into the room, and slept there by his fire. Next
morning the King came and said "Now thou must have learnt what shudder=
ing
is?" "No," he answered; "what can it be? My dead cousin=
was
here, and a bearded man came and showed me a great deal of money down below,
but no one told me what it was to shudder." "Then," said the
King, "thou hast delivered the castle, and shalt marry my daughter.&qu=
ot;
"That is all very well," said he, "but still I do not know w=
hat
it is to shudder."
Then
the gold was brought up and the wedding celebrated; but howsoever much the
young king loved his wife, and however happy he was, he still said always
"If I could but shudder---if I could but shudder." And at last she
was angry at this. Her waiting-maid said, "I will find a cure for him;=
he
shall soon learn what it is to shudder." She went out to the stream wh=
ich
flowed through the garden, and had a whole bucketful of gudgeons brought to
her. At night when the young king was sleeping, his wife was to draw the
clothes off him and empty the bucketful of cold water with the gudgeons in =
it
over him, so that the little fishes would sprawl about him. When this was d=
one,
he woke up and cried "Oh, what makes me shudder so?---what makes me
shudder so, dear wife? Ah! now I know what it is to shudder!"
There
was once upon a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and loved them =
with
all the love of a mother for her children. One day she wanted to go into the
forest and fetch some food. So she called all seven to her and said, "=
Dear
children, I have to go into the forest, be on your guard against the wolf; =
if
he come in, he will devour you all---skin, hair, and all. The wretch often
disguises himself, but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his
black feet." The kids said, "Dear mother, we will take good care =
of
ourselves; you may go away without any anxiety." Then the old one blea=
ted,
and went on her way with an easy mind.
It was
not long before some one knocked at the house-door and called, "Open t=
he
door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought something back wi=
th
her for each of you." But the little kids knew that it was the wolf, by
the rough voice; "We will not open the door," cried they, "t=
hou
art not our mother. She has a=
soft,
pleasant voice, but thy voice is rough; thou art the wolf!" Then the w=
olf
went away to a shopkeeper and bought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this
and made his voice soft with it. The he came back, knocked at the door of t=
he house,
and cried, "Open the door, dear children, your mother is here and has
brought something back with her for each of you." But the wolf had laid
his black paws against the window, and the children saw them and cried,
"We will not open the door, our mother has not black feet like thee; t=
hou
art the wolf." Then the wolf ran to a baker and said, "I have hur=
t my
feet, rub some dough over them for me." And when the baker had rubbed =
his
feet over, he ran to the miller and said, "Strew some white meal over =
my
feet for me." The miller thought to himself, "The wolf wants to
deceive someone," and refused; but the wolf said, "If thou wilt n=
ot
do it, I will devour thee." Then the miller was afraid, and made his p=
aws
white for him. Truly men are like that.
So now
the wretch went for the third time to the house-door, knocked at it and sai=
d,
"Open the door for me, children, your dear little mother has come home,
and has brought every one of you something back from the forest with her.&q=
uot;
The little kids cried, "First show us thy paws that we may know if thou
art our dear little mother." Then he put his paws in through the windo=
w,
and when the kids saw that they were white, they believed that all he said =
was
true, and opened the door. But who should come in but the wolf! They were
terrified and wanted to hide themselves. One sprang under the table, the se=
cond
into the bed, the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen, the fi=
fth
into the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh into t=
he clock-case.
But the wolf found them all, and used no great ceremony; one after the othe=
r he
swallowed them down his throat. The youngest, who was in the clock-case, was
the only one he did not find. When the wolf had satisfied his appetite he t=
ook
himself off, laid himself down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and
began to sleep. Soon afterwards the old goat came home again from the fores=
t.
Ah! What a sight she saw there! The house-door stood wide open. The table,
chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to pieces,
and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought her children=
, but
they were nowhere to be found. She called them one after another by name, b=
ut
no one answered. At last, whe=
n she
came to the youngest, a soft voice cried, "Dear mother, I am in the
clock-case." She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had c=
ome
and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept over her po=
or
children.
At
length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with her. When t=
hey
came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree and snored so loud that =
the
branches shook. She looked at him on every side and saw that something was
moving and struggling in his gorged belly. "Ah, heavens," said sh=
e,
"is it possible that my poor children whom he has swallowed down for h=
is
supper, can be still alive?" Then the kid had to run home and fetch
scissors, and a needle and thread, and the goat cut open the monster's stom=
ach,
and hardly had she make one cut, than one little kid thrust its head out, a=
nd
when she cut farther, all six sprang out one after another, and were all st=
ill
alive, and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the monst=
er had
swallowed them down whole. Wh=
at
rejoicing there was! They embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a sai=
lor
at his wedding. The mother, however, said, "Now go and look for some b=
ig
stones, and we will fill the wicked beast's stomach with them while he is s=
till
asleep." Then the seven kids dragged the stones thither with all speed,
and put as many of them into his stomach as they could get in; and the moth=
er
sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that he was not aware of anyth=
ing
and never once stirred.
When
the wolf at length had had his sleep out, he got on his legs, and as the st=
ones
in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to go to a well to drink. But when he began to walk and move
about, the stones in his stomach knocked against each other and rattled. Th=
en
cried he,
"What rumbles and tumbl=
es Against my poor bones? =
I thought 't was six ki=
ds, But it's naught but big
stones."
And
when he got to the well and stooped over the water and was just about to dr=
ink,
the heavy stones made him fall in, and there was no help, but he had to dro=
wn
miserably. When the seven kids saw that, they came running to the spot and =
cried
aloud, "The wolf is dead! The wolf is dead!" and danced for joy r=
ound
about the well with their mother.
There
was once on a time an old king who was ill, and thought to himself, "I=
am
lying on what must be my death-bed." Then said he, "Tell Faithful=
John
to come to me." Faithful John was his favourite servant, and was so ca=
lled,
because he had for his whole life long been so true to him. When therefore =
he
came beside the bed, the King said to him, "Most faithful John, I feel=
my
end approaching, and have no anxiety except about my son. He is still of te=
nder
age, and cannot always know how to guide himself. If thou dost not promise =
me
to teach him everything that he ought to know, and to be his foster-father,=
I
cannot close my eyes in peace." Then answered Faithful John, "I w=
ill
not forsake him, and will serve him with fidelity, even if it should cost m=
e my
life." On this, the old King said, "Now I die in comfort and
peace." Then he added, "After my death, thou shalt show him the w=
hole
castle: all the chambers, halls, and vaults, and all the treasures which lie
therein, but the last chamber in the long gallery, in which is the picture =
of
the princess of the Golden Dwelling, shalt thou not show. If he sees that
picture, he will fall violently in love with her, and will drop down in a
swoon, and go through great danger for her sake, therefore thou must preser=
ve him
from that." And when Faithful John had once more given his promise to =
the
old King about this, the King said no more, but laid his head on his pillow,
and died.
When
the old King had been carried to his grave, Faithful John told the young Ki=
ng
all that he had promised his father on his deathbed, and said, "This w=
ill
I assuredly perform, and will be faithful to thee as I have been faithful to
him, even if it should cost me my life." When the mourning was over,
Faithful John said to him, "It is now time that thou shouldst see thine
inheritance. I will show thee thy father's palace." Then he took him a=
bout
everywhere, up and down, and let him see all the riches, and the magnificent
apartments, only there was one room which he did not open, that in which hu=
ng
the dangerous picture. The picture was, however, so placed that when the do=
or
was opened you looked straight on it, and it was so admirably painted that =
it
seemed to breathe and live, and there was nothing more charming or more
beautiful in the whole world. The young King, however, plainly remarked that
Faithful John always walked past this one door, and said, "Why dost th=
ou
never open this one for me?" "There is something within it,"=
he
replied, "which would terrify thee." But the King answered, "=
;I
have seen all the palace, and I will know what is in this room also," =
and
he went and tried to break open the door by force. Then Faithful John held =
him
back and said, "I promised thy father before his death that thou shoul=
dst
not see that which is in this chamber, it might bring the greatest misfortu=
ne
on thee and on me." "Ah, no," replied the young King, "=
if I
do not go in, it will be my certain destruction. I should have no rest day =
or
night until I had seen it with my own eyes. I shall not leave the place now=
until
thou hast unlocked the door."
Then
Faithful John saw that there was no help for it now, and with a heavy heart=
and
many sighs, sought out the key from the great bunch. When he had opened the
door, he went in first, and thought by standing before him he could hide the
portrait so that the King should not see it in front of him, but what avail=
ed
that? The King stood on tip-t=
oe and
saw it over his shoulder. And when he saw the portrait of the maiden, which=
was
so magnificent and shone with gold and precious stones, he fell fainting to=
the
ground. Faithful John took him up, carried him to his bed, and sorrowfully
thought, "The misfortune has befallen us, Lord God, what will be the e=
nd
of it?" Then he strengthened him with wine, until he came to himself
again. The first words the King said were, "Ah, the beautiful portrait!
whose it it?" "That is the princess of the Golden Dwelling,"
answered Faithful John. Then the King continued, "My love for her is so
great, that if all the leaves on all the trees were tongues, they could not
declare it. I will give my life to win her. Thou art my most Faithful John,
thou must help me."
The faithful
servant considered within himself for a long time how to set about the matt=
er,
for it was difficult even to obtain a sight of the King's daughter. At leng=
th
he thought of a way, and said to the King, "Everything which she has a=
bout
her is of gold---tables, chairs, dishes, glasses, bowls, and household
furniture. Among thy treasures are five tons of gold; let one of the goldsm=
iths
of the Kingdom work these up into all manner of vessels and utensils, into =
all
kinds of birds, wild beasts and strange animals, such as may please her, an=
d we
will go there with them and try our luck."
The
King ordered all the goldsmiths to be brought to him, and they had to work
night and day until at last the most splendid things were prepared. When
everything was stowed on board a ship, Faithful John put on the dress of a
merchant, and the King was forced to do the same in order to make himself q=
uite
unrecognizable. Then they sailed across the sea, and sailed on until they c=
ame
to the town wherein dwelt the princess of the Golden Dwelling.
Faithful
John bade the King stay behind on the ship, and wait for him. "Perhaps=
I
shall bring the princess with me," said he, "therefore see that
everything is in order; have the golden vessels set out and the whole ship
decorated." Then he gathered together in his apron all kinds of gold
things, went on shore and walked straight to the royal palace. When he ente=
red
the courtyard of the palace, a beautiful girl was standing there by the well
with two golden buckets in her hand, drawing water with them. And when she =
was
just turning round to carry away the sparkling water she saw the stranger, =
and
asked who he was. So he answered, "I am a merchant," and opened h=
is
apron, and let her look in. Then she cried, "Oh, what beautiful gold
things!" and put her pails down and looked at the golden wares one aft=
er
the other. Then said the girl, "The princess must see these, she has s=
uch
great pleasure in golden things, that she will buy all you have." She =
took
him by the hand and led him upstairs, for she was the waiting-maid. When the
King's daughter saw the wares, she was quite delighted and said, "They=
are
so beautifully worked, that I will buy them all of thee." But Faithful
John said, "I am only the servant of a rich merchant. The things I have
here are not to be compared with those my master has in his ship. They are =
the
most beautiful and valuable things that have ever been made in gold." =
She wanted
to have everything brought to her there, but he said, "There are so ma=
ny
of them that it would take a great many days to do that, and so many rooms
would be required to exhibit them, that your house is not big enough."
Then her curiosity and longing were still more excited, until at last she s=
aid,
"Conduct me to the ship, I will go there myself, and behold the treasu=
res
of thine master."
On
this Faithful John was quite delighted, and led her to the ship, and when t=
he
King saw her, he perceived that her beauty was even greater than the picture
had represented it to be, and thought no other than that his heart would bu=
rst
in twain. Then she got into the ship, and the King led her within. Faithful
John, however, remained behind with the pilot, and ordered the ship to be
pushed off, saying, "Set all sail, till it fly like a bird in air.&quo=
t;
Within, however, the King showed her the golden vessels, every one of them,
also the wild beasts and strange animals. Many hours went by whilst she was
seeing everything, and in her delight she did not observe that the ship was
sailing away. After she had looked at the last, she thanked the merchant and
wanted to go home, but when she came to the side of the ship, she saw that =
it
was on the deep sea far from land, and hurrying onwards with all sail set.
"Ah," cried she in her alarm, "I am betrayed! I am carried a=
way
and have fallen into the power of a merchant---I would die rather!" The
King, however, seized her hand, and said, "I am not a merchant. I am a
king, and of no meaner origin than thou art, and if I have carried thee away
with subtlety, that has come to pass because of my exceeding great love for
thee. The first time that I l=
ooked
on thy portrait, I fell fainting to the ground." When the princess of =
the
Golden Dwelling heard that, she was comforted, and her heart was inclined u=
nto
him, so that she willingly consented to be his wife.
It so
happened, however, while they were sailing onwards over the deep sea, that
Faithful John, who was sitting on the fore part of the vessel, making music,
saw three ravens in the air, which came flying towards them. On this he sto=
pped
playing and listened to what they were saying to each other, for that he we=
ll
understood. One cried, "Oh, there he is carrying home the princess of =
the
Golden Dwelling." "Yes," replied the second, "but he has
not got her yet." Said the third, "But he has got her, she is sit=
ting
beside him in the ship." Then the first began again, and cried, "=
What
good will that do him? When they reach land a chestnut horse will leap forw=
ard
to meet him, and the prince will want to mount it, but if he does that, it =
will
run away with him, and rise up into the air with him, and he will never see=
his
maiden more." Spake the second, "But is there no escape?"
"Oh,
yes, if any one else gets on it swiftly, and takes out the pistol which mus=
t be
in its holster, and shoots the horse dead with it, the young King is saved.=
But
who knows that? And whosoever does know it, and tells it to him, will be tu=
rned
to stone from the toe to the knee." Then said the second, "I know
more than that; even if the horse be killed, the young King will still not =
keep
his bride. When they go into the castle together, a wrought bridal garment =
will
be lying there in a dish, and looking as if it were woven of gold and silve=
r;
it is, however, nothing but sulphur and pitch, and if he put it on, it will
burn him to the very bone and marrow." Said the third, "Is there =
no
escape at all?"
"Oh,
yes," replied the second, "if any one with gloves on seizes the g=
arment
and throws it into the fire and burns it, the young King will be saved.
"But what avails that?" "Whosoever knows it and tells it to =
him,
half his body will become stone from the knee to the heart."
Then
said the third, "I know still more; even if the bridal garment be burn=
t,
the young King will still not have his bride. After the wedding, when the
dancing begins and the young queen is dancing, she will suddenly turn pale =
and
fall down as if dead, and if some one does not lift her up and draw three d=
rops
of blood from her right breast and spit them out again, she will die. But if
any one who knows that were to declare it, he would become stone from the c=
rown
of his head to the sole of his foot." When the ravens had spoken of th=
is
together, they flew onwards, and Faithful John had well understood everythi=
ng,
but from that time forth he became quiet and sad, for if he concealed what =
he
had heard from his master, the latter would be unfortunate, and if he
discovered it to him, he himself must sacrifice his life. At length, howeve=
r,
he said to himself, "I will save my master, even if it bring destructi=
on
on myself."
When
therefore they came to shore, all happened as had been foretold by the rave=
ns,
and a magnificent chestnut horse sprang forward. "Good," said the
King, "he shall carry me to my palace," and was about to mount it
when Faithful John got before him, jumped quickly on it, drew the pistol ou=
t of
the holster, and shot the horse. Then the other attendants of the King, who
after all were not very fond of Faithful John, cried, "How shameful to
kill the beautiful animal, that was to have carried the King to his
palace." But the King said, "Hold your peace and leave him alone,=
he
is my most faithful John, who knows what may be the good of that!" They
went into the palace, and in the hall there stood a dish, and therein lay t=
he
bridal garment looking no otherwise than as if it were made of gold and sil=
ver.
The young King went towards it and was about to take hold of it, but Faithf=
ul
John pushed him away, seized it with gloves on, carried it quickly to the f=
ire
and burnt it. The other attendants again began to murmur, and said,
"Behold, now he is even burning the King's bridal garment!" But t=
he
young King said, "Who knows what good he may have done, leave him alon=
e,
he is my most faithful John."
And
now the wedding was solemnized: the dance began, and the bride also took pa=
rt
in it; then Faithful John was watchful and looked into her face, and sudden=
ly
she turned pale and fell to the ground, as if she were dead. On this he ran
hastily to her, lifted her up and bore her into a chamber---then he laid her
down, and knelt and sucked the three drops of blood from her right breast, =
and
spat them out. Immediately she breathed again and recovered herself, but the
young King had seen this, and being ignorant why Faithful John had done it,=
was
angry and cried, "Throw him into a dungeon." Next morning Faithful
John was condemned, and led to the gallows, and when he stood on high, and =
was
about to be executed, he said, "Every one who has to die is permitted
before his end to make one last speech; may I too claim the right?"
"Yes," answered the King, "it shall be granted unto thee.&qu=
ot;
Then said Faithful John, "I am unjustly condemned, and have always been
true to thee," and he related how he had hearkened to the conversation=
of
the ravens when on the sea, and how he had been obliged to do all these thi=
ngs
in order to save his master. Then cried the King, "Oh, my most Faithful
John. Pardon, pardon---bring him down." But as Faithful John spoke the
last word he had fallen down lifeless and become a stone.
Thereupon the King and the Queen suffered great anguish, and the King said, "Ah,= how ill I have requited great fidelity!" and ordered the stone figure to be taken up and placed in his bedroom beside his bed. And as often as he looke= d on it he wept and said, "Ah, if I could bring thee to life again, my most faithful John." Some time passed and the Queen bore twins, two sons who grew fast and were her delight. Once when the Queen was at church and the t= wo children were sitting playing beside their father, the latter full of grief again looked at the stone figure, sighed and said, "Ah, if I could but bring thee to life again, my most faithful John." Then the stone began= to speak and said, "Thou canst bring me to life again if thou wilt use for that purpose what is dearest to thee." Then cried the King, "I wi= ll give everything I have in the world for thee." The stone continued, "If thou wilt will cut off the heads of thy two children with thine own hand, and sprinkle me with their blood, I shall be restored to life."<= o:p>
The
King was terrified when he heard that he himself must kill his dearest
children, but he thought of faithful John's great fidelity, and how he had =
died
for him, drew his sword, and with his own hand cut off the children's heads.
And when he had smeared the stone with their blood, life returned to it, and
Faithful John stood once more safe and healthy before him. He said to the K=
ing,
"Thy truth shall not go unrewarded," and took the heads of the
children, put them on again, and rubbed the wounds with their blood, on whi=
ch
they became whole again immediately, and jumped about, and went on playing =
as
if nothing had happened. Then the King was full of joy, and when he saw the
Queen coming he hid Faithful John and the two children in a great cupboard.
When she entered, he said to her, "Hast thou been praying in the
church?" "Yes," answered she, "but I have constantly be=
en
thinking of Faithful John and what misfortune has befallen him through
us." Then said he, "Dear wife, we can give him his life again, bu=
t it
will cost us our two little sons, whom we must sacrifice." The Queen
turned pale, and her heart was full of terror, but she said, "We owe i=
t to
him, for his great fidelity." Then the King was rejoiced that she thou=
ght
as he had thought, and went and opened the cupboard, and brought forth Fait=
hful
John and the children, and said, "God be praised, he is delivered, and=
we
have our little sons again also," and told her how everything had
occurred. Then they dwelt together in much happiness until their death.
There
was once a peasant who had driven his cow to the fair, and sold her for sev=
en
thalers. On the way home he had to pass a pond, and already from afar he he=
ard
the frogs crying, "Aik, aik, aik, aik." "Well," said he=
to
himself, "they are talking without rhyme or reason, it is seven that I
have received, not eight." When he got to the water, he cried to them,=
"Stupid
animals that you are! Don't you know better than that? It is seven thalers =
and
not eight." The frogs, however, stood to their, "aik aik, aik, ai=
k."
"Come, then, if you won't believe it, I can count it out to you."=
And
he took his money out of his pocket and counted out the seven thalers, alwa=
ys
reckoning four and twenty groschen to a thaler. The frogs, however, paid no
attention to his reckoning, but still cried, "aik, aik, aik,
aik." "What," =
cried
the peasant, quite angry, "since you are determined to know better tha=
n I,
count it yourselves," and threw all the money into the water to them. =
He
stood still and wanted to wait until they were done and had brought him his=
own
again, but the frogs maintained their opinion and cried continually, "=
aik,
aik, aik, aik," and besides that, did not throw the money out again. He
still waited a long while until evening came on and he was forced to go hom=
e.
Then he abused the frogs and cried, "You water-splashers, you thick-he=
ads,
you goggle-eyes, you have great mouths and can screech till you hurt one's
ears, but you cannot count seven thalers! Do you think I'm going to stand h=
ere
till you get done?" And with that he went away, but the frogs still cr=
ied,
"aik, aik, aik, aik," after him till he went home quite angry.
After
a while he bought another cow, which he killed, and he made the calculation
that if he sold the meat well he might gain as much as the two cows were wo=
rth,
and have the skin into the bargain. When therefore he got to the town with =
the
meat, a great troop of dogs were gathered together in front of the gate, wi=
th a
large greyhound at the head of them, which jumped at the meat, snuffed at i=
t,
and barked, "Wow, wow, wow." As there was no stopping him, the
peasant said to him, "Yes, yes, I know quite well that thou art saying,
'wow, wow, wow,' because thou wantest some of the meat; but I should fare b=
adly
if I were to give it to thee." The dog, however, answered nothing but
"wow, wow." "Wilt thou promise not to devour it all then, and
wilt thou go bail for thy companions?" "Wow, wow, wow," said=
the
dog. "Well, if thou insistest on it, I will leave it for thee; I know =
thee
well, and know who is thy master; but this I tell thee, I must have my mone=
y in
three days or else it will go ill with thee; thou must just bring it out to
me." Thereupon he unloaded the meat and turned back again, the dogs fe=
ll
upon it and loudly barked, "wow, wow."
The
countryman, who heard them from afar, said to himself, "Hark, now they=
all
want some, but the big one is responsible to me for it."
When
three days had passed, the countryman thought, "To-night my money will=
be
in my pocket," and was quite delighted. But no one would come and pay
it. "There is no trustin=
g any
one now," said he; and at last he lost patience, and went into the tow=
n to
the butcher and demanded his money. The butcher thought it was a joke, but =
the
peasant said, "Jesting apart, I will have my money! Did not the great =
dog
bring you the whole of the slaughtered cow three days ago?" Then the
butcher grew angry, snatched a broomstick and drove him out. "Wait a
while," said the peasant, "there is still some justice in the
world!" and went to the royal palace and begged for an audience. He was
led before the King, who sat there with his daughter, and asked him what in=
jury
he had suffered. "Alas!" said he, "the frogs and the dogs ha=
ve
taken from me what is mine, and the butcher has paid me for it with the
stick," and he related at full length all that had happened. Thereupon=
the
King's daughter began to laugh heartily, and the King said to him, "I
cannot give you justice in this, but you shall have my daughter to wife for
it,---in her whole life she has never yet laughed as she has just done at t=
hee,
and I have promised her to him who could make her laugh. Thou mayst thank G=
od
for thy good fortune!"
"Oh,"
answered the peasant, "I will not have her, I have a wife already, and=
she
is one too many for me; when I go home, it is just as bad as if I had a wife
standing in every corner." Then the King grew angry, and said, "T=
hou
art a boor." "Ah, Lord King," replied the peasant, "what
can you expect from an ox, but beef?" "Stop," answered the K=
ing,
"thou shalt have another reward. Be off now, but come back in three da=
ys, and
then thou shalt have five hundred counted out in full."
When
the peasant went out by the gate, the sentry said, "Thou hast made the
King's daughter laugh, so thou wilt certainly receive something good."=
"Yes,
that is what I think," answered the peasant; "five hundred are to=
be
counted out to me." "Hark thee," said the soldier, "giv=
e me
some of it. What canst thou do with all that money?" "As it is
thou," said the peasant, "thou shalt have two hundred; present
thyself in three days' time before the King, and let it be paid to thee.&qu=
ot;
A Jew, who was standing by and had heard the conversation, ran after the
peasant, held him by the coat, and said, "Oh, wonder! what a luck-child
thou art! I will change it for thee, I will change it for thee into small
coins, what dost thou want with the great thalers?" "Jew," s=
aid
the countryman, "three hundred canst thou still have; give it to me at
once in coin, in three days from this, thou wilt be paid for it by the
King." The Jew was delighted with the profit, and brought the sum in b=
ad
groschen, three of which were worth two good ones. After three days had pas=
sed,
according to the King's command, the peasant went before the King. "Pull his coat off," sai=
d the
latter, "and he shall have his five hundred." "Ah!" sai=
d the
peasant, "they no longer belong to me; I presented two hundred of them=
to
the sentinel, and three hundred the Jew has changed for me, so by right not=
hing
at all belongs to me." In the meantime the soldier and the Jew entered=
and
claimed what they had gained from the peasant, and they received the blows
strictly counted out. The soldier bore it patiently and knew already how it
tasted, but the Jew said sorrowfully, "Alas, alas, are these the heavy
thalers?" The King could not help laughing at the peasant, and as all =
his
anger was gone, he said, "As thou hast already lost thy reward before =
it
fell to thy lot, I will give thee something in the place of it. Go into my
treasure chamber and get some money for thyself, as much as thou wilt."
The peasant did not need to be told twice, and stuffed into his big pockets=
whatsoever
would go in. Afterwards he went to an inn and counted out his money. The Jew
had crept after him and heard how he muttered to himself, "That rogue =
of a
King has cheated me after all, why could he not have given me the money
himself, and then I should have known what I had? How can I tell now if wha=
t I
have had the luck to put in my pockets is right or not?" "Good
heavens!" said the Jew to himself, "that man is speaking
disrespectfully of our lord the King, I will run and inform, and then I sha=
ll
get a reward, and he will be punished as well."
When
the King heard of the peasant's words he fell into a passion, and commanded=
the
Jew to go and bring the offender to him. The Jew ran to the peasant, "=
You
are to go at once to the lord King in the very clothes you have on."
"I know what's right better than that," answered the peasant, &qu=
ot;I
shall have a new coat made first. Dost thou think that a man with so much m=
oney
in his pocket is to go there in his ragged old coat?" The Jew, as he s=
aw
that the peasant would not stir without another coat, and as he feared that=
if
the King's anger cooled, he himself would lose his reward, and the peasant =
his
punishment, said, "I will out of pure friendship lend thee a coat for =
the
short time. What will people not do for love!" The peasant was content=
ed
with this, put the Jew's coat on, and went off with him.
The
King reproached the countryman because of the evil speaking of which the Jew
had informed him. "Ah," said the peasant, "what a Jew says i=
s always
false -- no true word ever comes out of his mouth! That rascal there is cap=
able
of maintaining that I have his coat on."
"What
is that?" shrieked the Jew. "Is the coat not mine? Have I not len=
t it
to thee out of pure friendship, in order that thou might appear before the =
lord
King?" When the King hea=
rd
that, he said, "The Jew has assuredly deceived one or the other of us,
either myself or the peasant," and again he ordered something to be
counted out to him in hard thalers. The peasant, however, went home in the =
good
coat, with the good money in his pocket, and said to himself, "This ti=
me I
have hit it!"
There
was once a wonderful musician, who went quite alone through a forest and
thought of all manner of things, and when nothing was left for him to think
about, he said to himself, "Time is beginning to pass heavily with me =
here
in the forest, I will fetch hither a good companion for myself." Then =
he
took his fiddle from his back, and played so that it echoed through the tre=
es.
It was not long before a wolf came trotting through the thicket towards him.
"Ah, here is a wolf coming! I have no desire for him!" said the
musician; but the wolf came nearer and said to him, "Ah, dear musician,
how beautifully thou dost play. I should like to learn that, too."
"It is soon learnt," the musician replied, "thou hast only t=
o do
all that I bid thee." "Oh, musician," said the wolf, "I
will obey thee as a scholar obeys his master." The musician bade him f=
ollow,
and when they had gone part of the way together, they came to an old oak-tr=
ee
which was hollow inside, and cleft in the middle. "Look," said the
musician, "if thou wilt learn to fiddle, put thy fore paws into this
crevice." The wolf obeyed, but the musician quickly picked up a stone =
and
with one blow wedged his two paws so fast that he was forced to stay there =
like
a prisoner. "Stay there until I come back again," said the musici=
an,
and went his way.
After
a while he again said to himself, "Time is beginning to pass heavily w=
ith
me here in the forest, I will fetch hither another companion," and took
his fiddle and again played in the forest. It was not long before a fox came
creeping through the trees towards him. "Ah, there's a fox coming!&quo=
t;
said the musician. "I have no desire for him." The fox came up to=
him
and said, "Oh, dear musician, how beautifully thou dost play! I should
like to learn that too." "That is soon learnt," said the
musician. "Thou hast only to do everything that I bid thee."
"Oh, musician," then said the fox, "I will obey thee as a
scholar obeys his master."
"Follow me," said the musician; and when they had walked a
part of the way, they came to a footpath, with high bushes on both sides of=
it.
There the musician stood still, and from one side bent a young hazel-bush d=
own
to the ground, and put his foot on the top of it, then he bent down a young
tree from the other side as well, and said, "Now little fox, if thou w=
ilt
learn something, give me thy left front paw." The fox obeyed, and the
musician fastened his paw to the left bough. "Little fox," said h=
e,
"now reach me thy right paw" and he tied it to the right bough. W=
hen
he had examined whether they were firm enough, he let go, and the bushes sp=
rang
up again, and jerked up the little fox, so that it hung struggling in the a=
ir.
"Wait there till I come back again," said the musician, and went =
his
way.
Again
he said to himself, "Time is beginning to pass heavily with me here in=
the
forest, I will fetch hither another companion," so he took his fiddle,=
and
the sound echoed through the forest. Then a little hare came springing towa=
rds
him. "Why, a hare is
coming," said the musician, "I do not want him." "Ah, d=
ear
musician," said the hare, "how beautifully thou dost fiddle; I to=
o,
should like to learn that." "That is soon learnt," said the
musician, "thou hast only to do everything that I bid thee."
"Oh,
musician," replied the little hare, "I will obey thee as a schola=
r obeys
his master." They went a part of the way together until they came to an
open space in the forest, where stood an aspen tree. The musician tied a lo=
ng
string round the little hare's neck, the other end of which he fastened to =
the
tree. "Now briskly, little hare, run twenty times round the tree!"
cried the musician, and the little hare obeyed, and when it had run round
twenty times, it had twisted the string twenty times round the trunk of the
tree, and the little hare was caught, and let it pull and tug as it liked, =
it
only made the string cut into its tender neck. "Wait there till I come
back," said the musician, and went onwards.
The
wolf, in the meantime, had pushed and pulled and bitten at the stone, and h=
ad
worked so long that he had set his feet at liberty and had drawn them once =
more
out of the cleft. Full of anger and rage he hurried after the musician and
wanted to tear him to pieces. When the fox saw him running, he began to lam=
ent,
and cried with all his might, "Brother wolf, come to my help, the musi=
cian
has betrayed me!" The wolf drew down the little tree, bit the cord in =
two,
and freed the fox, who went with him to take revenge on the musician. They found the tied-up hare, whom
likewise they delivered, and then they all sought the enemy together.
The
musician had once more played his fiddle as he went on his way, and this ti=
me
he had been more fortunate. The sound reached the ears of a poor wood-cutte=
r,
who instantly, whether he would or no, gave up his work and came with his
hatchet under his arm to listen to the music. "At last comes the right
companion," said the musician, "for I was seeking a human being, =
and
no wild beast." And he began and played so beautifully and delightfully
that the poor man stood there as if bewitched, and his heart leaped with
gladness. And as he thus stood, the wolf, the fox, and the hare came up, an=
d he
saw well that they had some evil design. So he raised his glittering axe and
placed himself before the musician, as if to say, "Whoso wishes to tou=
ch
him let him beware, for he will have to do with me!" Then the beasts w=
ere
terrified and ran back into the forest. The musician, however, played once =
more
to the man out of gratitude, and then went onwards.
There
were once on a time a king and a queen who lived happily together and had
twelve children, but they were all boys. Then said the King to his wife,
"If the thirteenth child which thou art about to bring into the world,=
is
a girl, the twelve boys shall die, in order that her possessions may be gre=
at,
and that the kingdom may fall to her alone." He caused likewise twelve
coffins to be made, which were already filled with shavings, and in each lay
the little pillow for the dead, and he had them taken into a locked-up room,
and then he gave the Queen the key of it, and bade her not to speak of this=
to
any one.
The
mother, however, now sat and lamented all day long, until the youngest son,=
who
was always with her, and whom she had named Benjamin, from the Bible, said =
to
her, "Dear mother, why art thou so sad?"
"Dearest
child," she answered, "I may not tell thee." But he let her =
have
no rest until she went and unlocked the room, and showed him the twelve cof=
fins
ready filled with shavings. Then she said, "my dearest Benjamin, thy
father has had these coffins made for thee and for thy eleven brothers, for=
if
I bring a little girl into the world, you are all to be killed and buried in
them." And as she wept while she was saying this, the son comforted her
and said, "Weep not, dear mother, we will save ourselves, and go
hence." But she said, "Go forth into the forest with thy eleven
brothers, and let one sit constantly on the highest tree which can be found,
and keep watch, looking towards the tower here in the castle. If I give bir=
th
to a little son, I will put up a white flag, and then you may venture to co=
me
back, but if I bear a daughter, I will hoist a red flag, and then fly hence=
as
quickly as you are able, and may the good God protect you. And every night I
will rise up and pray for you---in winter that you may be able to warm your=
self
at a fire, and in summer that you may not faint away in the heat."
After
she had blessed her sons therefore, they went forth into the forest. They e=
ach
kept watch in turn, and sat on the highest oak and looked towards the tower.
When eleven days had passed and the turn came to Benjamin, he saw that a fl=
ag
was being raised. It was, however, not the white, but the blood-red flag wh=
ich
announced that they were all to die. When the brothers heard that, they were
very angry and said, "Are we all to suffer death for the sake of a
girl? We swear that we will a=
venge ourselves!--
wheresoever we find a girl, her red blood shall flow."
Thereupon
they went deeper into the forest, and in the midst of it, where it was the
darkest, they found a little bewitched hut, which was standing empty. Then =
said
they, "Here we will dwell, and thou Benjamin, who art the youngest and
weakest, thou shalt stay at home and keep house, we others will go out and =
get
food." Then they went into the forest and shot hares, wild deer, birds=
and
pigeons, and whatsoever there was to eat; this they took to Benjamin, who h=
ad
to dress it for them in order that they might appease their hunger. They li=
ved
together ten years in the little hut, and the time did not appear long to t=
hem.
The
little daughter which their mother the Queen had given birth to, was now gr=
own
up; she was good of heart, and fair of face, and had a golden star on her
forehead. Once, when it was the great washing, she saw twelve men's shirts
among the things, and asked her mother, "To whom do these twelve shirts
belong, for they are far too small for father?" Then the Queen answered
with a heavy heart, "Dear child, these belong to thy twelve
brothers." Said the maiden, "Where are my twelve brothers, I have
never yet heard of them?" She replied, "God knows where they are,=
they
are wandering about the world." Then she took the maiden and opened the
chamber for her, and showed her the twelve coffins with the shavings, and
pillows for the head. "These coffins," said she, "were desti=
ned
for thy brothers, but they went away secretly before thou wert born," =
and she
related to her how everything had happened; then said the maiden, "Dear
mother, weep not, I will go and seek my brothers."
So she
took the twelve shirts and went forth, and straight into the great forest.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> She walked the whole day, and in t=
he
evening she came to the bewitched hut.&nbs=
p;
Then she entered it and found a young boy, who asked, "From whe=
nce
comest thou, and whither art thou bound?" and was astonished that she =
was
so beautiful, and wore royal garments, and had a star on her forehead. And =
she
answered, "I am a king's daughter, and am seeking my twelve brothers, =
and
I will walk as far as the sky is blue until I find them." She likewise
showed him the twelve shirts which belonged to them. Then Benjamin saw that=
she
was his sister, and said, "I am Benjamin, thy youngest brother." =
And
she began to weep for joy, and Benjamin wept also, and they kissed and embr=
aced
each other with the greatest love. But after this he said, "Dear siste=
r,
there is still one difficulty. We have agreed that every maiden whom we meet
shall die, because we have been obliged to leave our kingdom on account of a
girl." Then said she, "I will willingly die, if by so doing I can
deliver my twelve brothers."
"No,"
answered he, "thou shalt not die, seat thyself beneath this tub until =
our
eleven brothers come, and then I will soon come to an agreement with
them."
She
did so, and when it was night the others came from hunting, and their dinner
was ready. And as they were sitting at table, and eating, they asked,
"What news is there?" Said Benjamin, "Don't you know
anything?" "No," they answered. He continued, "You have
been in the forest and I have stayed at home, and yet I know more than you =
do."
"Tell us then," they cried. He answered, "But promise me that
the first maiden who meets us shall not be killed." "Yes," t=
hey
all cried, "she shall have mercy, only do tell us."
Then
said he, "Our sister is here," and he lifted up the tub, and the =
King's
daughter came forth in her royal garments with the golden star on her foreh=
ead,
and she was beautiful, delicate and fair. Then they were all rejoiced, and =
fell
on her neck, and kissed and loved her with all their hearts.
Now
she stayed at home with Benjamin and helped him with the work. The eleven w=
ent
into the forest and caught game, and deer, and birds, and wood-pigeons that
they might have food, and the little sister and Benjamin took care to make =
it
ready for them. She sought for the wood for cooking and herbs for vegetable=
s,
and put the pans on the fire so that the dinner was always ready when the
eleven came. She likewise kept order in the little house, and put beautiful=
ly
white clean coverings on the little beds, and the brothers were always cont=
ented
and lived in great harmony with her.
Once
on a time the two at home had prepared a beautiful entertainment, and when =
they
were all together, they sat down and ate and drank and were full of gladnes=
s.
There was, however, a little garden belonging to the bewitched house wherein
stood twelve lily flowers, which are likewise called students. She wished to
give her brothers pleasure, and plucked the twelve flowers, and thought she
would present each brother with one while at dinner. But at the self-same m=
oment
that she plucked the flowers the twelve brothers were changed into twelve
ravens, and flew away over the forest, and the house and garden vanished
likewise. And now the poor maiden was alone in the wild forest, and when she
looked around, an old woman was standing near her who said, "My child,
what hast thou done? Why didst thou not leave the twelve white flowers grow=
ing?
They were thy brothers, who are now for evermore changed into ravens."=
The
maiden said, weeping, "Is there no way of delivering them?"
"No,"
said the woman, "there is but one in the whole world, and that is so h=
ard
that thou wilt not deliver them by it, for thou must be dumb for seven year=
s,
and mayst not speak or laugh, and if thou speakest one single word, and onl=
y an
hour of the seven years is wanting, all is in vain, and thy brothers will be
killed by the one word."
Then
said the maiden in her heart, "I know with certainty that I shall set =
my
brothers free," and went and sought a high tree and seated herself in =
it
and span, and neither spoke nor laughed. Now it so happened that a king was
hunting in the forest, who had a great greyhound which ran to the tree on w=
hich
the maiden was sitting, and sprang about it, whining, and barking at her. T=
hen
the King came by and saw the beautiful King's daughter with the golden star=
on
her brow, and was so charmed with her beauty that he called to ask her if s=
he
would be his wife. She made no answer, but nodded a little with her head. S=
o he
climbed up the tree himself, carried her down, placed her on his horse, and
bore her home. Then the wedding was solemnized with great magnificence and
rejoicing, but the bride neither spoke nor smiled. When they had lived happ=
ily together
for a few years, the King's mother, who was a wicked woman, began to slander
the young Queen, and said to the King, "This is a common beggar girl w=
hom
thou hast brought back with thee. Who knows what impious tricks she practis=
es
secretly! Even if she be dumb=
, and not
able to speak, she still might laugh for once; but those who do not laugh h=
ave
bad consciences." At first the King would not believe it, but the old
woman urged this so long, and accused her of so many evil things, that at l=
ast
the King let himself be persuaded and sentenced her to death.
And
now a great fire was lighted in the courtyard in which she was to be burnt,=
and
the King stood above at the window and looked on with tearful eyes, because=
he
still loved her so much. And when she was bound fast to the stake, and the =
fire
was licking at her clothes with its red tongue, the last instant of the sev=
en
years expired. Then a whirring sound was heard in the air, and twelve ravens
came flying towards the place, and sank downwards, and when they touched the
earth they were her twelve brothers, whom she had delivered. They tore the =
fire
asunder, extinguished the flames, set their dear sister free, and kissed and
embraced her. And now as she dared to open her mouth and speak, she told the
King why she had been dumb, and had never laughed. The King rejoiced when he
heard that she was innocent, and they all lived in great unity until their
death. The wicked step-mother was taken before the judge, and put into a ba=
rrel
filled with boiling oil and venomous snakes, and died an evil death.
The
cock once said to the hen, "It is now the time when our nuts are ripe,=
so
let us go to the hill together and for once eat our fill before the squirrel
takes them all away." "Yes," replied the hen, "come, we
will have some pleasure together."&nb=
sp;
Then they went away to the hill, and on it was a bright day they sta=
yed
till evening. Now I do not know whether it was that they had eaten till they
were too fat, or whether they had become proud, but they would not go home =
on
foot, and the cock had to build a little carriage of nut-shells. When it was
ready, the little hen seated herself in it and said to the cock, "Thou
canst just harness thyself to it." "I like that!" said the c=
ock,
"I would rather go home on foot than let myself be harnessed to it; no=
, that
is not our bargain. I do not mind being coachman and sitting on the box, but
drag it myself I will not."
As
they were thus disputing, a duck quacked to them, "You thieving folks,=
who
bade you go to my nut-hill? Well, you shall suffer for it!" and ran wi=
th
open beak at the cock. But the cock also was not idle, and fell boldly on t=
he
duck, and at last wounded her so with his spurs that she also begged for me=
rcy,
and willingly let herself be harnessed to the carriage as a punishment. The
little cock now seated himself on the box and was coachman, and thereupon t=
hey
went off in a gallop, with "Duck, go as fast as thou canst." When
they had driven a part of the way they met two foot-passengers, a pin and a
needle. They cried, "Stop! stop!" and said that it would soon be =
as
dark as pitch, and then they could not go a step further, and that it was so
dirty on the road, and asked if they could not get into the carriage for a
while. They had been at the tailor's public-house by the gate, and had stay=
ed
too long over the beer. As they were thin people, who did not take up much
room, the cock let them both get in, but they had to promise him and his li=
ttle
hen not to step on their feet. Late in the evening they came to an inn, and=
as
they did not like to go further by night, and as the duck also was not stro=
ng
on her feet, and fell from one side to the other, they went in. The host at
first made many objections, his house was already full, besides he thought =
they
could not be very distinguished persons; but at last, as they made pleasant
speeches, and told him that he should have the egg which the little hen has
laid on the way, and should likewise keep the duck, which laid one every da=
y,
he at length said that they might stay the night. And now they had themselv=
es
well served, and feasted and rioted. Early in the morning, when day was
breaking, and every one was asleep, the cock awoke the hen, brought the egg,
pecked it open, and they ate it together, but they threw the shell on the
hearth. Then they went to the needle which was still asleep, took it by the
head and stuck it into the cushion of the landlord's chair, and put the pin=
in
his towel, and at the last without more ado they flew away over the heath. =
The
duck who liked to sleep in the open air and had stayed in the yard, heard t=
hem
going away, made herself merry and found a stream, down which she swam, whi=
ch
was a much quicker way of travelling than being harnessed to a carriage. The
host did not get out of bed for two hours after this; he washed himself and
wanted to dry himself, then the pin went over his face and made a red streak
from one ear to the other. After this he went into the kitchen and wanted to
light a pipe, but when he came to the hearth the egg-shell darted into his
eyes. "This morning everything attacks my head," said he, and ang=
rily
sat down on his grandfather's chair, but he quickly started up again and cr=
ied,
"Woe is me," for the needle had pricked him still worse than the =
pin,
and not in the head. Now he was thoroughly angry, and suspected the guests =
who
had come so late the night before, and when he went and looked about for th=
em,
they were gone. Then he made a vow to take no more ragamuffins into his hou=
se,
for they consume much, pay for nothing, and play mischievous tricks into the
bargain by way of gratitude.
Little
brother took his little sister by the hand and said, "Since our mother
died we have had no happiness; our step-mother beats us every day, and if we
come near her she kicks us away with her foot. Our meals are the hard crust=
s of
bread that are left over; and the little dog under the table is better off,=
for
she often throws it a nice bit. May Heaven pity us. If our mother only knew!
Come, we will go forth together into the wide world."
They
walked the whole day over meadows, fields, and stony places; and when it ra=
ined
the little sister said, "Heaven and our hearts are weeping together.&q=
uot;
In the evening they came to a large forest, and they were so weary with sor=
row
and hunger and the long walk, that they lay down in a hollow tree and fell
asleep.
The
next day when they awoke, the sun was already high in the sky, and shone do=
wn
hot into the tree. Then the brother said, "Sister, I am thirsty; if I =
knew
of a little brook I would go and just take a drink; I think I hear one
running." The brother got up and took the little sister by the hand, a=
nd
they set off to find the brook.
But
the wicked step-mother was a witch, and had seen how the two children had g=
one
away, and had crept after them privily, as witches do creep, and had bewitc=
hed
all the brooks in the forest.
Now
when they found a little brook leaping brightly over the stones, the brother
was going to drink out of it, but the sister heard how it said as it ran,
"Who drinks of me will be a tiger; who drinks of me will be a tiger.&q=
uot;
Then the sister cried, "Pray, dear brother, do not drink, or you will
become a wild beast, and tear me to pieces." The brother did not drink,
although he was so thirsty, but said, "I will wait for the next
spring."
When
they came to the next brook the sister heard this also say, "Who drink=
s of
me will be a wolf; who drinks of me will be a wolf." Then the sister c=
ried
out, "Pray, dear brother, do not drink, or you will become a wolf, and
devour me." The brother =
did
not drink, and said, "I will wait until we come to the next spring, but
then I must drink, say what you like; for my thirst is too great."
And
when they came to the third brook the sister heard how it said as it ran,
"Who drinks of me will be a roebuck; who drinks of me will be a roebuc=
k."
The sister said, "Oh, I pray you, dear brother, do not drink, or you w=
ill
become a roebuck, and run away from me." But the brother had knelt dow=
n at
once by the brook, and had bent down and drunk some of the water, and as so=
on
as the first drops touched his lips he lay there a young roebuck.
And
now the sister wept over her poor bewitched brother, and the little roe wept
also, and sat sorrowfully near to her. But at last the girl said, "Be
quiet, dear little roe, I will never, never leave you."
Then
she untied her golden garter and put it round the roebuck's neck, and she
plucked rushes and wove them into a soft cord. With this she tied the little
beast and led it on, and she walked deeper and deeper into the forest.
And
when they had gone a very long way they came at last to a little house, and=
the
girl looked in; and as it was empty, she thought, "We can stay here and
live." Then she sought f=
or
leaves and moss to make a soft bed for the roe; and every morning she went =
out
and gathered roots and berries and nuts for herself, and brought tender gra=
ss
for the roe, who ate out of her hand, and was content and played round about
her. In the evening, when the sister was tired, and had said her prayer, sh=
e laid
her head upon the roebuck's back: that was her pillow, and she slept softly=
on
it. And if only the brother had had his human form it would have been a
delightful life.
For
some time they were alone like this in the wilderness. But it happened that=
the
King of the country held a great hunt in the forest. Then the blasts of the
horns, the barking of dogs, and the merry shouts of the huntsmen rang throu=
gh
the trees, and the roebuck heard all, and was only too anxious to be there.
"Oh," said he, to his sister, "let me be off to the hunt, I
cannot bear it any longer;" and he begged so much that at last she agr=
eed.
"But," said she to him, "come back to me in the evening; I m=
ust
shut my door for fear of the rough huntsmen, so knock and say, 'My little
sister, let me in!' that I may know you; and if you do not say that, I shall
not open the door." Then the young roebuck sprang away; so happy was he
and so merry in the open air.
The
King and the huntsmen saw the pretty creature, and started after him, but t=
hey
could not catch him, and when they thought that they surely had him, away he
sprang through the bushes and could not be seen. When it was dark he ran to=
the
cottage, knocked, and said, "My little sister, let me in." Then t=
he
door was opened for him, and he jumped in, and rested himself the whole nig=
ht
through upon his soft bed.
The
next day the hunt went on afresh, and when the roebuck again heard the
bugle-horn, and the ho! ho! of the huntsmen, he had no peace, but said,
"Sister, let me out, I must be off." His sister opened the door f=
or him,
and said, "But you must be here again in the evening and say your
pass-word."
When
the King and his huntsmen again saw the young roebuck with the golden colla=
r,
they all chased him, but he was too quick and nimble for them. This went on=
for
the whole day, but at last by the evening the huntsmen had surrounded him, =
and
one of them wounded him a little in the foot, so that he limped and ran slo=
wly.
Then a hunter crept after him to the cottage and heard how he said, "My
little sister, let me in," and saw that the door was opened for him, a=
nd
was shut again at once. The huntsman took notice of it all, and went to the
King and told him what he had seen and heard. Then the King said,
"To-morrow we will hunt once more."
The
little sister, however, was dreadfully frightened when she saw that her fawn
was hurt. She washed the blood off him, laid herbs on the wound, and said,
"Go to your bed, dear roe, that you may get well again." But the =
wound
was so slight that the roebuck, next morning, did not feel it any more. And
when he again heard the sport outside, he said, "I cannot bear it, I m=
ust
be there; they shall not find it so easy to catch me." The sister crie=
d,
and said, "This time they will kill you, and here am I alone in the fo=
rest
and forsaken by all the world. I will not let you out." "Then you
will have me die of grief," answered the roe; "when I hear the
bugle-horns I feel as if I must jump out of my skin." Then the sister
could not do otherwise, but opened the door for him with a heavy heart, and=
the
roebuck, full of health and joy, bounded into the forest.
When
the King saw him, he said to his huntsmen, "Now chase him all day long
till night-fall, but take care that no one does him any harm."
As
soon as the sun had set, the King said to the huntsman, "Now come and =
show
me the cottage in the wood;" and when he was at the door, he knocked a=
nd
called out, "Dear little sister, let me in." Then the door opened,
and the King walked in, and there stood a maiden more lovely than any he had
ever seen. The maiden was frightened when she saw, not her little roe, but a
man come in who wore a golden crown upon his head. But the King looked kind=
ly
at her, stretched out his hand, and said, "Will you go with me to my
palace and be my dear wife?" "Yes, indeed," answered the mai=
den,
"but the little roe must go with me, I cannot leave him." The King
said, "It shall stay with you as long as you live, and shall want
nothing." Just then he came running in, and the sister again tied him =
with
the cord of rushes, took it in her own hand, and went away with the King fr=
om
the cottage.
The
King took the lovely maiden upon his horse and carried her to his palace, w=
here
the wedding was held with great pomp. She was now the Queen, and they lived=
for
a long time happily together; the roebuck was tended and cherished, and ran
about in the palace-garden.
But
the wicked step-mother, because of whom the children had gone out into the
world, thought all the time that the sister had been torn to pieces by the =
wild
beasts in the wood, and that the brother had been shot for a roebuck by the
huntsmen. Now when she heard that they were so happy, and so well off, envy=
and
hatred rose in her heart and left her no peace, and she thought of nothing =
but
how she could bring them again to misfortune. Her own daughter, who was ugl=
y as
night, and had only one eye, grumbled at her and said, "A Queen! that
ought to have been my luck." "Only be quiet," answered the o=
ld
woman, and comforted her by saying, "when the time comes I shall be
ready."
As
time went on, the Queen had a pretty little boy, and it happened that the K=
ing
was out hunting; so the old witch took the form of the chamber-maid, went i=
nto
the room where the Queen lay, and said to her, "Come, the bath is read=
y;
it will do you good, and give you fresh strength; make haste before it gets
cold."
The
daughter also was close by; so they carried the weakly Queen into the
bath-room, and put her into the bath; then they shut the door and ran away.=
But
in the bath-room they had made a fire of such deadly heat that the beautiful
young Queen was soon suffocated.
When this was done the old woman took her daughter, put a nightcap on her head, = and laid her in bed in place of the Queen. She gave her too the shape and the l= ook of the Queen, only she could not make good the lost eye. But in order that = the King might not see it, she was to lie on the side on which she had no eye.<= o:p>
In the
evening when he came home and heard that he had a son he was heartily glad,=
and
was going to the bed of his dear wife to see how she was. But the old woman
quickly called out, "For your life leave the curtains closed; the Queen
ought not to see the light yet, and must have rest." The King went awa=
y,
and did not find out that a false Queen was lying in the bed.
But at
midnight, when all slept, the nurse, who was sitting in the nursery by the
cradle, and who was the only person awake, saw the door open and the true Q=
ueen
walk in. She took the child out of the cradle, laid it on her arm, and suck=
led
it. Then she shook up its pillow, laid the child down again, and covered it
with the little quilt. And she did not forget the roebuck, but went into the
corner where it lay, and stroked its back. Then she went quite silently out=
of
the door again. The next morning the nurse asked the guards whether anyone =
had
come into the palace during the night, but they answered, "No, we have
seen no one."
She
came thus many nights and never spoke a word: the nurse always saw her, but=
she
did not dare to tell anyone about it.
When
some time had passed in this manner, the Queen began to speak in the night,=
and
said---
"How fares my child, how fares=
my
roe? Twice shall I come, then=
never
more."
The
nurse did not answer, but when the Queen had gone again, went to the King a=
nd
told him all. The King said, "Ah, heavens! what is this? To-morrow nig=
ht I
will watch by the child." In the evening he went into the nursery, and=
at
midnight the Queen again appeared and said---
"How fares my child, how fares=
my
roe? Once will I come, then n=
ever
more."
And
she nursed the child as she was wont to do before she disappeared. The King
dared not speak to her, but on the next night he watched again. Then she
said---
"How fares my child, how fares=
my
roe? This time I come, then n=
ever
more."
Then
the King could not restrain himself; he sprang towards her, and said, "=
;You
can be none other than my dear wife." She answered, "Yes, I am yo=
ur
dear wife," and at the same moment she received life again, and by God=
's
grace became fresh, rosy, and full of health.
Then
she told the King the evil deed which the wicked witch and her daughter had
been guilty of towards her. The King ordered both to be led before the judg=
e,
and judgment was delivered against them. The daughter was taken into the fo=
rest
where she was torn to pieces by wild beasts, but the witch was cast into the
fire and miserably burnt. And as soon as she was burnt the roebuck changed =
his
shape, and received his human form again, so the sister and brother lived
happily together all their lives.
There were
once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a child. At length the woman hoped that God=
was
about to grant her desire. These people had a little window at the back of
their house from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of t=
he
most beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wal=
l, and
no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had g=
reat
power and was dreaded by all the world. One day the woman was standing by t=
his
window and looking down into the garden, when she saw a bed which was plant=
ed
with the most beautiful rampion (rapunzel), and it looked so fresh and green
that she longed for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire
increased every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she
quite pined away, and looked pale and miserable. Then her husband was alarm=
ed,
and asked, "What aileth thee, dear wife?" "Ah," she
replied, "if I can't get some of the rampion, which is in the garden
behind our house, to eat, I shall die." The man, who loved her, though=
t,
"Sooner than let thy wife die, bring her some of the rampion thyself, =
let
it cost thee what it will." In the twilight of the evening, he clamber=
ed
down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily clutched a
handful of rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once made herself a sal=
ad
of it, and ate it with much relish. She, however, liked it so much---so very
much, that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. If=
he
was to have any rest, her husband must once more descend into the garden. In
the gloom of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had=
clambered
down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the enchantress standing
before him. "How canst thou dare," said she with angry look, &quo=
t;to
descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a thief? Thou shalt suffer=
for
it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy take the place of
justice, I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. My wife saw your
rampion from the window, and felt such a longing for it that she would have=
died
if she had not got some to eat." Then the enchantress allowed her ange=
r to
be softened, and said to him, "If the case be as thou sayest, I will a=
llow
thee to take away with thee as much rampion as thou wilt, only I make one
condition, thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into the
world; it shall be well treated, and I will care for it like a mother."
The man in his terror consented to everything, and when the woman was broug=
ht
to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunz=
el,
and took it away with her.
Rapunzel
grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she was twelve yea=
rs
old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay in a forest, and had
neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a little window. When the
enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath it and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down thy hair to me."
Rapunzel
had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she heard the voice =
of
the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, wound them round one of=
the
hooks of the window above, and then the hair fell twenty ells down, and the
enchantress climbed up by it.
After
a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through the forest =
and
went by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so charming that he stood
still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in her solitude passed her time =
in
letting her sweet voice resound. The King's son wanted to climb up to her, =
and
looked for the door of the tower, but none was to be found. He rode home, b=
ut
the singing had so deeply touched his heart, that every day he went out into
the forest and listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree=
, he
saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down thy hair."
Then
Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to
her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I will for once try my
fortune," said he, and the next day when it began to grow dark, he wen=
t to
the tower and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down thy hair."
Immediately
the hair fell down and the King's son climbed up.
At
first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes had never
yet beheld, came to her; but the King's son began to talk to her quite like=
a
friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him
have no rest, and he had been forced to see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fea=
r,
and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and she saw th=
at
he was young and handsome, she thought, "He will love me more than old
Dame Gothel does;" and she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She sai=
d,
"I will willingly go away with thee, but I do not know how to get down.
Bring with thee a skein of silk every time that thou comest, and I will wea=
ve a
ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and thou wilt take m=
e on
thy horse." They agreed that until that time he should come to her eve=
ry
evening, for the old woman came by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of
this, until once Rapunzel said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it
happens that you are so much heavier for me to draw up than the young King's
son---he is with me in a moment." "Ah! thou wicked child," c=
ried
the enchantress "What do I hear thee say! I thought I had separated th=
ee
from all the world, and yet thou hast deceived me." In her anger she
clutched Rapunzel's beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left ha=
nd,
seized a pair of scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they were cut off,
and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she t=
ook
poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great grief and misery=
.
On the
same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress in the eveni=
ng
fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off, to the hook of the windo=
w,
and when the King's son came and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down thy hair,"
she
let the hair down. The King's son ascended, but he did not find his dearest
Rapunzel above, but the enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and venom=
ous
looks. "Aha!" she cried mockingly, "Thou wouldst fetch thy
dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the nest; the cat=
has
got it, and will scratch out thy eyes as well. Rapunzel is lost to thee; th=
ou
wilt never see her more." The King's son was beside himself with pain,=
and
in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but =
the
thorns into which he fell, pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind a=
bout
the forest, ate nothing but roots and berries, and did nothing but lament a=
nd
weep over the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery for =
some
years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with the twins to w=
hich
she had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in wretchedness. He heard a vo=
ice,
and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards it, and when he appro=
ached,
Rapunzel knew him and fell on his neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his
eyes and they grew clear again, and he could see with them as before. He led
her to his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long
time afterwards, happy and contented.
There
was once a man whose wife died, and a woman whose husband died, and the man=
had
a daughter, and the woman also had a daughter. The girls were acquainted wi=
th
each other, and went out walking together, and afterwards came to the woman=
in
her house. Then said she to the man's daughter, "Listen, tell thy fath=
er
that I would like to marry him, and then thou shalt wash thyself in milk ev=
ery
morning, and drink wine, but my own daughter shall wash herself in water and
drink water." The girl went home, and told her father what the woman h=
ad
said. The man said, "What shall I do? Marriage is a joy and also a
torment." At length as he could come to no decision, he pulled off his
boot, and said, "Take this boot, it has a hole in the sole of it. Go w=
ith
it up to the loft, hang it on the big nail, and then pour water into it. If=
it
hold the water, then I will again take a wife, but if it run through, I will
not." The girl did as she was ordered, but the water drew the hole
together, and the boot became full to the top. She informed her father how =
it
had turned out. Then he himself went up, and when he saw that she was right=
, he
went to the widow and wooed her, and the wedding was celebrated.
The
next morning, when the two girls got up, there stood before the man's daugh=
ter
milk for her to wash in and wine for her to drink, but before the woman's
daughter stood water to wash herself with and water for drinking. On the se=
cond
morning, stood water for washing and water for drinking before the man's
daughter as well as before the woman's daughter. And on the third morning s=
tood
water for washing and water for drinking before the man's daughter, and milk
for washing and wine for drinking, before the woman's daughter, and so it
continued. The woman became bitterly unkind to her step-daughter, and day by
day did her best to treat her still worse. She was also envious because her
step-daughter was beautiful and lovable, and her own daughter ugly and
repulsive.
Once,
in winter, when everything was frozen as hard as a stone, and hill and vale=
lay
covered with snow, the woman made a frock of paper, called her step-daughte=
r,
and said, "Here, put on this dress and go out into the wood, and fetch=
me
a little basketful of strawberries,---I have a fancy for some." "=
Good
heavens!" said the girl, "no strawberries grow in winter! The gro=
und
is frozen, and besides the snow has covered everything. And why am I to go =
in
this paper frock? It is so cold outside that one's very breath freezes! The
wind will blow through the frock, and the thorns will tear it off my
body." "Wilt thou contradict me again?" said the stepmother,
"See that thou goest, and do not show thy face again until thou hast t=
he
basketful of strawberries!" Then she gave her a little piece of hard
bread, and said, "This will last thee the day," and thought,
"Thou wilt die of cold and hunger outside, and wilt never be seen agai=
n by
me."
Then
the maiden was obedient, and put on the paper frock, and went out with the =
basket.
Far and wide there was nothing but snow, and not a green blade to be seen. =
When
she got into the wood she saw a small house out of which peeped three dwarf=
s.
She wished them good day, and knocked modestly at the door. They cried,
"Come in," and she entered the room and seated herself on the ben=
ch
by the stove, where she began to warm herself and eat her breakfast. The el=
ves
said, "Give us, too, some of it." "Willingly," she said,
and divided her bit of bread in two and gave them the half. They asked,
"What dost thou here in the forest in the winter time, in thy thin
dress?" "Ah," she answered, "I am to look for a basketf=
ul
of strawberries, and am not to go home until I can take them with me."
When she had eaten her bread, they gave her a broom and said, "Sweep a=
way
the snow at the back door with it." But when she was outside, the three
little men said to each other, "What shall we give her as she is so go=
od,
and has shared her bread with us?" Then said the first, "My gift =
is,
that she shall every day grow more beautiful." The second said, "=
My
gift is, that gold pieces shall fall out of her mouth every time she
speaks." The third said, "My gift is, that a king shall come and =
take
her to wife."
The
girl, however, did as the little men had bidden her, swept away the snow be=
hind
the little house with the broom, and what did she find but real ripe
strawberries, which came up quite dark-red out of the snow! In her joy she
hastily gathered her basket full, thanked the little men, shook hands with =
each
of them, and ran home to take her step-mother what she had longed for so
much. When she went in and sa=
id
good-evening, a piece of gold at once fell from her mouth. Thereupon she
related what had happened to her in the wood, but with every word she spoke=
, gold
pieces fell from her mouth, until very soon the whole room was covered with
them. "Now look at her arrogance," cried the step-sister, "to
throw about gold in that way!" but she was secretly envious of it, and
wanted to go into the forest also to seek strawberries. The mother said,
"No, my dear little daughter, it is too cold, thou mightest die of
cold." However, as her daughter let her have no peace, the mother at l=
ast
yielded, made her a magnificent dress of fur, which she was obliged to put =
on,
and gave her bread-and-butter and cake with her.
The
girl went into the forest and straight up to the little house. The three li=
ttle
elves peeped out again, but she did not greet them, and without looking rou=
nd
at them and without speaking to them, she went awkwardly into the room, sea=
ted
herself by the stove, and began to eat her bread-and-butter and cake.
"Give us some of it," cried the little men; but she replied,
"There is not enough for myself, so how can I give it away to other
people?" When she had done eating, they said, "There is a broom f=
or
thee, sweep all clean for us outside by the back-door." "Humph! S=
weep
for yourselves," she answered, "I am not your servant." When=
she
saw that they were not going to give her anything, she went out by the door.
Then the little men said to each other, "What shall we give her as she=
is
so naughty, and has a wicked envious heart, that will never let her do a go=
od
turn to any one?" The first said, "I grant that she may grow ugli=
er
every day." The second said, "I grant that at every word she says=
, a
toad shall spring out of her mouth." The third said, "I grant that
she may die a miserable death."
The maiden looked for strawberries outside, but as she found none, s=
he
went angrily home. And when she opened her mouth, and was about to tell her
mother what had happened to her in the wood, with every word she said, a to=
ad sprang
out of her mouth, so that every one was seized with horror of her.
Then
the step-mother was still more enraged, and thought of nothing but how to do
every possible injury to the man's daughter, whose beauty, however, grew da=
ily
greater. At length she took a cauldron, set it on the fire, and boiled yarn=
in
it. When it was boiled, she flung it on the poor girl's shoulder, and gave =
her
an axe in order that she might go on the frozen river, cut a hole in the ic=
e,
and rinse the yarn. She was obedient, went thither and cut a hole in the ic=
e;
and while she was in the midst of her cutting, a splendid carriage came dri=
ving
up, in which sat the King. The carriage stopped, and the King asked,"My
child, who are thou, and what art thou doing here?" "I am a poor
girl, and I am rinsing yarn." Then the King felt compassion, and when =
he
saw that she was so very beautiful, he said to her, "Wilt thou go away
with me?" "Ah, yes, with all my heart," she answered, for she
was glad to get away from the mother and sister.
So she
got into the carriage and drove away with the King, and when they arrived at
his palace, the wedding was celebrated with great pomp, as the little men h=
ad
granted to the maiden. When a year was over, the young Queen bore a son, an=
d as
the step-mother had heard of her great good-fortune, she came with her daug=
hter
to the palace and pretended that she wanted to pay her a visit. Once, however, when the King had g=
one
out, and no one else was present, the wicked woman seized the Queen by the
head, and her daughter seized her by the feet, and they lifted her out of t=
he
bed, and threw her out of the window into the stream which flowed by. Then =
the
ugly daughter laid herself in the bed, and the old woman covered her up over
her head. When the King came home again and wanted to speak to his wife, the
old woman cried, "Hush, hush, that can't be now, she is lying in a vio=
lent
perspiration; you must let her rest to-day." The King suspected no evi=
l,
and did not come back again till next morning; and as he talked with his wi=
fe
and she answered him, with every word a toad leaped out, whereas formerly a
piece of gold had fallen out. Then he asked what that could be, but the old=
woman
said that she had got that from the violent perspiration, and would soon lo=
se
it again. During the night, however, the scullion saw a duck come swimming =
up
the gutter, and it said,
"King, what art thou doing now=
? Sleepest thou, or wakest thou?"=
;
And as
he returned no answer, it said,
"And my guests, What may they
do?"
The
scullion said,
"They are sleeping soundly,
too."
Then
it asked again,
"What does little baby mine?&q=
uot;
He
answered,
"Sleepeth in her cradle fine.&=
quot;
Then
she went upstairs in the form of the Queen, nursed the baby, shook up its
little bed, covered it over, and then swam away again down the gutter in the
shape of a duck. She came thus for two nights; on the third, she said to the
scullion, "Go and tell the King to take his sword and swing it three t=
imes
over me on the threshold." Then the scullion ran and told this to the
King, who came with his sword and swung it thrice over the spirit, and at t=
he
third time, his wife stood before him strong, living, and healthy as she had
been before. Thereupon the King was full of great joy, but he kept the Queen
hidden in a chamber until the Sunday, when the baby was to be christened. A=
nd
when it was christened he said, "What does a person deserve who drags
another out of bed and throws him in the water?" "The wretch dese=
rves
nothing better," answered the old woman, "than to be taken and pu=
t in
a barrel stuck full of nails, and rolled down hill into the water."
"Then," said the King, "Thou hast pronounced thine own
sentence;" and he ordered such a barrel to be brought, and the old wom=
an
to be put into it with her daughter, and then the top was hammered on, and =
the
barrel rolled down hill until it went into the river.
There
was once a girl who was idle and would not spin, and let her mother say what
she would, she could not bring her to it. At last the mother was once so
overcome with anger and impatience, that she beat her, on which the girl be=
gan
to weep loudly. Now at this very moment the Queen drove by, and when she he=
ard
the weeping she stopped her carriage, went into the house and asked the mot=
her
why she was beating her daughter so that the cries could be heard out on the
road? Then the woman was ashamed to reveal the laziness of her daughter and
said, "I cannot get her to leave off spinning. She insists on spinning=
for
ever and ever, and I am poor, and cannot procure the flax." Then answe=
red
the Queen, "There is nothing that I like better to hear than spinning,=
and
I am never happier than when the wheels are humming. Let me have your daugh=
ter with
me in the palace. I have flax enough, and there she shall spin as much as s=
he
likes." The mother was
heartily satisfied with this, and the Queen took the girl with her. When they had arrived at the palac=
e, she
led her up into three rooms which were filled from the bottom to the top wi=
th
the finest flax. "Now spin me this flax," said she, "and whe=
n thou
hast done it, thou shalt have my eldest son for a husband, even if thou art
poor. I care not for that, thy indefatigable industry is dowry enough."
The girl was secretly terrified, for she could not have spun the flax, no, =
not
if she had lived till she was three hundred years old, and had sat at it ev=
ery
day from morning till night. When therefore she was alone, she began to wee=
p,
and sat thus for three days without moving a finger. On the third day came =
the
Queen, and when she saw that nothing had been spun yet, she was surprised; =
but
the girl excused herself by saying that she had not been able to begin beca=
use
of her great distress at leaving her mother's house. The queen was satisfied
with this, but said when she was going away, "To-morrow thou must begi=
n to
work."
When
the girl was alone again, she did not know what to do, and in her distress =
went
to the window. Then she saw three women coming towards her, the first of wh=
om
had a broad flat foot, the second had such a great underlip that it hung do=
wn
over her chin, and the third had a broad thumb. They remained standing befo=
re
the window, looked up, and asked the girl what was amiss with her? She
complained of her trouble, and then they offered her their help and said,
"If thou wilt invite us to the wedding, not be ashamed of us, and wilt
call us thine aunts, and likewise wilt place us at thy table, we will spin =
up
the flax for thee, and that in a very short time." "With all my
heart," she replied, "do but come in and begin the work at
once." Then she let in the three strange women, and cleared a place in=
the
first room, where they seated themselves and began their spinning. The one =
drew
the thread and trod the wheel, the other wetted the thread, the third twist=
ed
it, and struck the table with her finger, and as often as she struck it, a
skein of thread fell to the ground that was spun in the finest manner possi=
ble.
The girl concealed the three spinners from the Queen, and showed her whenev=
er she
came the great quantity of spun thread, until the latter could not praise h=
er
enough. When the first room was empty she went to the second, and at last to
the third, and that too was quickly cleared. Then the three women took leave
and said to the girl, "Do not forget what thou hast promised us,---it =
will
make thy fortune."
When
the maiden showed the Queen the empty rooms, and the great heap of yarn, she
gave orders for the wedding, and the bridegroom rejoiced that he was to have
such a clever and industrious wife, and praised her mightily. "I have
three aunts," said the girl, "and as they have been very kind to =
me,
I should not like to forget them in my good fortune; allow me to invite the=
m to
the wedding, and let them sit with us at table." The Queen and the
bridegroom said, "Why should we not allow that?" Therefore when t=
he
feast began, the three women entered in strange apparel, and the bride said,
"Welcome, dear aunts." "Ah," said the bridegroom, "=
;how
comest thou by these odious friends?" Thereupon he went to the one wit=
h the
broad flat foot, and said, "How do you come by such a broad foot?"
"By treading," she answered, "by treading." Then the
bridegroom went to the second, and said, "How do you come by your fall=
ing
lip?" "By licking," she answered, "by licking." Th=
en
he asked the third, "How do you come by your broad thumb?" "=
By
twisting the thread," she answered, "by twisting the
thread." On this the Kin=
g's
son was alarmed and said, "Neither now nor ever shall my beautiful bri=
de
touch a spinning-wheel." And thus she got rid of the hateful
flax-spinning.
Hard
by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and his two childr=
en.
The boy was called Hansel and the girl Grethel. He had little to bite and to
break, and once when great scarcity fell on the land, he could no longer
procure daily bread. Now when he thought over this by night in his bed, and
tossed about in his anxiety, he groaned and said to his wife, "What is=
to
become of us? How are we to feed our poor children, when we no longer have
anything even for ourselves?" "I'll tell you what, husband,"
answered the woman, "Early to-morrow morning we will take the children=
out
into the forest to where it is the thickest, there we will light a fire for
them, and give each of them one piece of bread more, and then we will go to=
our
work and leave them alone. They will not find the way home again, and we sh=
all
be rid of them." "No, wife," said the man, "I will not =
do
that; how can I bear to leave my children alone in the forest?---the wild
animals would soon come and tear them to pieces." "O, thou
fool!" said she, "Then we must all four die of hunger, thou mayes=
t as
well plane the planks for our coffins," and she left him no peace unti=
l he
consented. "But I feel very sorry for the poor children, all the
same," said the man.
The
two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had heard what
their step-mother had said to their father. Grethel wept bitter tears, and =
said
to Hansel, "Now all is over with us." "Be quiet, Grethel,&qu=
ot;
said Hansel, "do not distress thyself, I will soon find a way to help
us." And when the old folks had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his
little coat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The moon shone brigh=
tly,
and the white pebbles which lay in front of the house glittered like real
silver pennies. Hansel stooped and put as many of them in the little pocket=
of
his coat as he could possibly get in. Then he went back and said to Grethel,
"Be comforted, dear little sister, and sleep in peace, God will not
forsake us," and he lay down again in his bed. When day dawned, but be=
fore
the sun had risen, the woman came and awoke the two children, saying "=
Get
up, you sluggards! we are going into the forest to fetch wood." She ga=
ve
each a little piece of bread, and said, "There is something for your
dinner, but do not eat it up before then, for you will get nothing else.&qu=
ot;
Grethel took the bread under her apron, as Hansel had the stones in his poc=
ket.
Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. When they had walk=
ed a
short time, Hansel stood still and peeped back at the house, and did so aga=
in and
again. His father said, "Hansel, what art thou looking at there and st=
aying
behind for? Mind what thou art about, and do not forget how to use thy
legs." "Ah, father," said Hansel, "I am looking at my
little white cat, which is sitting up on the roof, and wants to say good-by=
e to
me." The wife said, "Fool, that is not thy little cat, that is th=
e morning
sun which is shining on the chimneys." Hansel, however, had not been
looking back at the cat, but had been constantly throwing one of the white
pebble-stones out of his pocket on the road.
When
they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said, "Now, chil=
dren,
pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not be cold."
Hansel and Grethel gathered brushwood together, as high as a little hill. T=
he
brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were burning very high, the woman
said, "Now, children, lay yourselves down by the fire and rest, we wil=
l go
into the forest and cut some wood. When we have done, we will come back and
fetch you away."
Hansel
and Grethel sat by the fire, and when noon came, each ate a little piece of
bread, and as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe they believed that the=
ir
father was near. It was not, however, the axe, it was a branch which he had
fastened to a withered tree which the wind was blowing backwards and forwar=
ds.
And as they had been sitting such a long time, their eyes shut with fatigue,
and they fell fast asleep. When at last they awoke, it was already dark nig=
ht.
Grethel began to cry and said, "How are we to get out of the forest
now?" But Hansel comfort=
ed her
and said, "Just wait a little, until the moon has risen, and then we w=
ill
soon find the way." And when the full moon had risen, Hansel took his
little sister by the hand, and followed the pebbles which shone like newly-=
coined
silver pieces, and showed them the way.
They
walked the whole night long, and by break of day came once more to their
father's house. They knocked at the door, and when the woman opened it and =
saw
that it was Hansel and Grethel, she said, "You naughty children, why h=
ave
you slept so long in the forest?---we thought you were never coming back at
all!" The father, however, rejoiced, for it had cut him to the heart to
leave them behind alone.
Not
long afterwards, there was once more great scarcity in all parts, and the
children heard their mother saying at night to their father, "Everythi=
ng
is eaten again, we have one half loaf left, and after that there is an end.=
The
children must go, we will take them farther into the wood, so that they will
not find their way out again; there is no other means of saving
ourselves!" The man's heart was heavy, and he thought "it would be
better for thee to share the last mouthful with thy children." The wom=
an,
however, would listen to nothing that he had to say, but scolded and reproa=
ched
him. He who says A must say B, likewise, and as he had yielded the first ti=
me,
he had to do so a second time also.
The
children were, however, still awake and had heard the conversation. When the
old folks were asleep, Hansel again got up, and wanted to go out and pick up
pebbles as he had done before, but the woman had locked the door, and Hansel
could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted his little sister, and said,
"Do not cry, Grethel, go to sleep quietly, the good God will help
us."
Early
in the morning came the woman, and took the children out of their beds. Their bit of bread was given to th=
em,
but it was still smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest Hansel
crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel on the
ground. "Hansel, why dost thou stop and look round?" said the fat=
her,
"go on." "I am looking back at my little pigeon which is sit=
ting
on the roof, and wants to say good-bye to me," answered Hansel. "Simpleton!" said the wo=
man, "that
is not thy little pigeon, that is the morning sun that is shining on the
chimney." Hansel, however, little by little, threw all the crumbs on t=
he
path.
The
woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they had never in
their lives been before. Then a great fire was again made, and the mother s=
aid,
"Just sit there, you children, and when you are tired you may sleep a
little; we are going into the forest to cut wood, and in the evening when we
are done, we will come and fetch you away." When it was noon, Grethel
shared her piece of bread with Hansel, who had scattered his by the way. Th=
en
they fell asleep and evening came and went, but no one came to the poor
children. They did not awake until it was dark night, and Hansel comforted =
his
little sister and said, "Just wait, Grethel, until the moon rises, and
then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn about, they will =
show
us our way home again." When the moon came they set out, but they foun=
d no
crumbs, for the many thousands of birds which fly about in the woods and fi=
elds
had picked them all up. Hansel said to Grethel, "We shall soon find the
way," but they did not find it. They walked the whole night and all the
next day too from morning till evening, but they did not get out of the for=
est,
and were very hungry, for they had nothing to eat but two or three berries,=
which
grew on the ground. And as they were so weary that their legs would carry t=
hem
no longer, they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep.
It was
now three mornings since they had left their father's house. They began to =
walk
again, but they always got deeper into the forest, and if help did not come
soon, they must die of hunger and weariness. When it was mid-day, they saw a
beautiful snow-white bird sitting on a bough, which sang so delightfully th=
at
they stood still and listened to it. And when it had finished its song, it
spread its wings and flew away before them, and they followed it until they
reached a little house, on the roof of which it alighted; and when they came
quite up to little house they saw that it was built of bread and covered wi=
th
cakes, but that the windows were of clear sugar. "We will set to work =
on
that," said Hansel, "and have a good meal. I will eat a bit of the
roof, and thou, Grethel, canst eat some of the window, it will taste sweet.=
"
Hansel reached up above, and broke off a little of the roof to try how it
tasted, and Grethel leant against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then=
a
soft voice cried from the room,
"Nibble, nibble, gnaw, Who is nibbling at my little house?=
"
The
children answered,
"The wind, the wind, The heaven-born wind,"
and
went on eating without disturbing themselves. Hansel, who thought the roof
tasted very nice, tore down a great piece of it, and Grethel pushed out the
whole of one round window-pane, sat down, and enjoyed herself with it. Sudd=
enly
the door opened, and a very, very old woman, who supported herself on crutc=
hes,
came creeping out. Hansel and Grethel were so terribly frightened that they=
let
fall what they had in their hands. The old woman, however, nodded her head,=
and
said, "Oh, you dear children, who has brought you here? Do come in, and
stay with me. No harm shall happen to you." She took them both by the
hand, and led them into her little house. Then good food was set before the=
m, milk
and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts. Afterwards two pretty little be=
ds
were covered with clean white linen, and Hansel and Grethel lay down in the=
m,
and thought they were in heaven.
The
old woman had only pretended to be so kind; she was in reality a wicked wit=
ch,
who lay in wait for children, and had only built the little house of bread =
in
order to entice them there. When a child fell into her power, she killed it,
cooked and ate it, and that was a feast day with her. Witches have red eyes=
, and
cannot see far, but they have a keen scent like the beasts, and are aware w=
hen
human beings draw near. When Hansel and Grethel came into her neighborhood,=
she
laughed maliciously, and said mockingly, "I have them, they shall not
escape me again!" Early in the morning before the children were awake,=
she
was already up, and when she saw both of them sleeping and looking so prett=
y,
with their plump red cheeks, she muttered to herself, "That will be a
dainty mouthful!" Then she seized Hansel with her shrivelled hand, car=
ried
him into a little stable, and shut him in with a grated door. He might scre=
am
as he liked, that was of no use. Then she went to Grethel, shook her till s=
he
awoke, and cried, "Get up, lazy thing, fetch some water, and cook
something good for thy brother, he is in the stable outside, and is to be m=
ade
fat. When he is fat, I will eat him." Grethel began to weep bitterly, =
but
it was all in vain, she was forced to do what the wicked witch ordered her.=
And
now the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Grethel got nothing but
crab-shells. Every morning the woman crept to the little stable, and cried,
"Hansel, stretch out thy finger that I may feel if thou wilt soon be
fat." Hansel, however, stretched out a little bone to her, and the old
woman, who had dim eyes, could not see it, and thought it was Hansel's fing=
er,
and was astonished that there was no way of fattening him. When four weeks =
had
gone by, and Hansel still continued thin, she was seized with impatience and
would not wait any longer. "Hola, Grethel," she cried to the girl,
"be active, and bring some water. Let Hansel be fat or lean, to-morrow=
I
will kill him, and cook him." Ah, how the poor little sister did lament
when she had to fetch the water, and how her tears did flow down over her
cheeks! "Dear God, do help us," she cried. "If the wild beas=
ts
in the forest had but devoured us, we should at any rate have died
together." "Just keep thy noise to thyself," said the old wo=
man,
"all that won't help thee at all."
Early
in the morning, Grethel had to go out and hang up the cauldron with the wat=
er,
and light the fire. "We will bake first," said the old woman, &qu=
ot;I
have already heated the oven, and kneaded the dough." She pushed poor
Grethel out to the oven, from which flames of fire were already darting.
"Creep in," said the witch, "and see if it is properly heate=
d, so
that we can shut the bread in." And when once Grethel was inside, she
intended to shut the oven and let her bake in it, and then she would eat he=
r,
too. But Grethel saw what she had in her mind, and said, "I do not know
how I am to do it; how do you get in?" "Silly goose," said t=
he old
woman, "The door is big enough; just look, I can get in myself!" =
and she
crept up and thrust her head into the oven. Then Grethel gave her a push th=
at
drove her far into it, and shut the iron door, and fastened the bolt. Oh! t=
hen
she began to howl quite horribly, but Grethel ran away, and the godless wit=
ch
was miserably burnt to death.
Grethel,
however, ran like lightning to Hansel, opened his little stable, and cried,
"Hansel, we are saved! The old witch is dead!" Then Hansel sprang=
out
like a bird from its cage when the door is opened for it. How they did rejo=
ice
and embrace each other, and dance about and kiss each other! And as they ha=
d no
longer any need to fear her, they went into the witch's house, and in every
corner there stood chests full of pearls and jewels. "These are far be=
tter
than pebbles!" said Hans=
el,
and thrust into his pockets whatever could be got in, and Grethel said,
"I, too, will take something home with me," and filled her pinafo=
re
full. "But now we will go away." said Hansel, "that we may g=
et
out of the witch's forest."
When
they had walked for two hours, they came to a great piece of water. "We
cannot get over," said Hansel, "I see no foot-plank, and no bridg=
e."
"And no boat crosses either," answered Grethel, "but a white
duck is swimming there; if I ask her, she will help us over." Then she
cried,
"Little duck, little duck, dos=
t thou
see, Hansel and Grethel are w=
aiting
for thee? There's never a pla=
nk, or
bridge in sight,
Take us across on thy back so
white."
The
duck came to them, and Hansel seated himself on its back, and told his sist=
er
to sit by him. "No," replied Grethel, "that will be too heav=
y for
the little duck; she shall take us across, one after the other." The g=
ood
little duck did so, and when they were once safely across and had walked fo=
r a
short time, the forest seemed to be more and more familiar to them, and at
length they saw from afar their father's house. Then they began to run, rus=
hed
into the parlour, and threw themselves into their father's arms. The man had
not known one happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; the
woman, however, was dead. Grethel emptied her pinafore until pearls and
precious stones ran about the room, and Hansel threw one handful after anot=
her
out of his pocket to add to them. Then all anxiety was at an end, and they
lived together in perfect happiness. My tale is done, there runs a mouse,
whosoever catches it, may make himself a big fur cap out of it.
There
was once on a time a poor man, who could no longer support his only son. Th=
en
said the son, "Dear father, things go so badly with us that I am a bur=
den
to you. I would rather go away and see how I can earn my bread." So the
father gave him his blessing, and with great sorrow took leave of him. At t=
his
time the King of a mighty empire was at war, and the youth took service with
him, and with him went out to fight. And when he came before the enemy, the=
re
was a battle, and great danger, and it rained shot until his comrades fell =
on
all sides, and when the leader also was killed, those left were about to ta=
ke
flight, but the youth stepped forth, spoke boldly to them, and cried, "=
;We
will not let our fatherland be ruined!" Then the others followed him, =
and
he pressed on and conquered the enemy. When the King heard that he owed the
victory to him alone, he raised him above all the others, gave him great
treasures, and made him the first in the kingdom.
The
King had a daughter who was very beautiful, but she was also very strange.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> She had made a vow to take no one =
as her
lord and husband who did not promise to let himself be buried alive with he=
r if
she died first. "If he loves me with all his heart," said she,
"of what use will life be to him afterwards?" On her side she wou=
ld
do the same, and if he died first, would go down to the grave with him. This
strange oath had up to this time frightened away all wooers, but the youth
became so charmed with her beauty that he cared for nothing, but asked her
father for her. "But dost thou know what thou must promise?" said=
the
King. "I must be buried with her," he replied, "if I outlive
her, but my love is so great that I do not mind the danger." Then the =
King
consented, and the wedding was solemnized with great splendour.
They
lived now for a while happy and contented with each other, and then it befe=
ll
that the young Queen was attacked by a severe illness, and no physician cou=
ld
save her. And as she lay there dead, the young King remembered what he had =
been
obliged to promise, and was horrified at having to lie down alive in the gr=
ave,
but there was no escape. The King had placed sentries at all the gates, and=
it
was not possible to avoid his fate. When the day came when the corpse was t=
o be
buried, he was taken down into the royal vault with it and then the door was
shut and bolted.
Near
the coffin stood a table on which were four candles, four loaves of bread, =
and
four bottles of wine, and when this provision came to an end, he would have=
to
die of hunger. And now he sat there full of pain and grief, ate every day o=
nly
a little piece of bread, drank only a mouthful of wine, and nevertheless saw
death daily drawing nearer. Whilst he thus gazed before him, he saw a snake
creep out of a corner of the vault and approach the dead body. And as he
thought it came to gnaw at it, he drew his sword and said, "As long as=
I
live, thou shalt not touch her," and hewed the snake in three pieces.
After a time a second snake crept out of the hole, and when it saw the other
lying dead and cut in pieces, it went back, but soon came again with three
green leaves in its mouth. Then it took the three pieces of the snake, laid
them together, as they ought to go, and placed one of the leaves on each wo=
und.
Immediately the severed parts joined themselves together, the snake moved, =
and
became alive again, and both of them hastened away together. The leaves wer=
e left
lying on the ground, and a desire came into the mind of the unhappy man who=
had
been watching all this, to know if the wondrous power of the leaves which h=
ad
brought the snake to life again, could not likewise be of service to a human
being. So he picked up the leaves and laid one of them on the mouth of his =
dead
wife, and the two others on her eyes. And hardly had he done this than the
blood stirred in her veins, rose into her pale face, and coloured it again.
Then she drew breath, opened her eyes, and said, "Ah, God, where am
I?" "Thou art with me, dear wife," he answered, and told her=
how
everything had happened, and how he had brought her back again to life. The=
n he
gave her some wine and bread, and when she had regained her strength, he ra=
ised
her up and they went to the door and knocked, and called so loudly that the
sentries heard it, and told the King. The King came down himself and opened=
the
door, and there he found both strong and well, and rejoiced with them that =
now all
sorrow was over. The young King, however, took the three snake-leaves with =
him,
gave them to a servant and said, "Keep them for me carefully, and carry
them constantly about thee; who knows in what trouble they may yet be of
service to us!"
A
change had, however, taken place in his wife; after she had been restored to
life, it seemed as if all love for her husband had gone out of her heart. A=
fter
some time, when he wanted to make a voyage over the sea, to visit his old
father, and they had gone on board a ship, she forgot the great love and
fidelity which he had shown her, and which had been the means of rescuing h=
er
from death, and conceived a wicked inclination for the skipper. And once wh=
en
the young King lay there asleep, she called in the skipper and seized the
sleeper by the head, and the skipper took him by the feet, and thus they th=
rew
him down into the sea. When t=
he
shameful deed was done, she said, "Now let us return home, and say tha=
t he
died on the way. I will extol and praise thee so to my father that he will
marry me to thee, and make thee the heir to his crown." But the faithf=
ul
servant who had seen all that they did, unseen by them, unfastened a little
boat from the ship, got into it, sailed after his master, and let the trait=
ors
go on their way. He fished up the dead body, and by the help of the three
snake-leaves which he carried about with him, and laid on the eyes and mout=
h,
he fortunately brought the young King back to life.
They
both rowed with all their strength day and night, and their little boat fle=
w so
swiftly that they reached the old King before the others did. He was astoni=
shed
when he saw them come alone, and asked what had happened to them. When he
learnt the wickedness of his daughter he said, "I cannot believe that =
she
has behaved so ill, but the truth will soon come to light," and bade b=
oth
go into a secret chamber and keep themselves hidden from every one. Soon
afterwards the great ship came sailing in, and the godless woman appeared
before her father with a troubled countenance. He said, "Why dost thou
come back alone? Where is thy husband?" "Ah, dear father," s=
he
replied, "I come home again in great grief; during the voyage, my husb=
and
became suddenly ill and died, and if the good skipper had not given me his
help, it would have gone ill with me. He was present at his death, and can =
tell
you all." The King said, "I will make the dead alive again,"=
and
opened the chamber, and bade the two come out. When the woman saw her husba=
nd,
she was thunderstruck, and fell on her knees and begged for mercy. The King
said, "There is no mercy. He was ready to die with thee and restored t=
hee
to life again, but thou hast murdered him in his sleep, and shalt receive t=
he
reward that thou deservest." Then she was placed with her accomplice i=
n a
ship which had been pierced with holes, and sent out to sea, where they soo=
n sank
amid the waves.
A long
time ago there lived a king who was famed for his wisdom through all the la=
nd.
Nothing was hidden from him, and it seemed as if news of the most secret th=
ings
was brought to him through the air. But he had a strange custom; every day
after dinner, when the table was cleared, and no one else was present, a tr=
usty
servant had to bring him one more dish. It was covered, however, and even t=
he
servant did not know what was in it, neither did anyone know, for the King =
never
took off the cover to eat of it until he was quite alone.
This
had gone on for a long time, when one day the servant, who took away the di=
sh,
was overcome with such curiosity that he could not help carrying the dish i=
nto
his room. When he had carefully locked the door, he lifted up the cover, and
saw a white snake lying on the dish. But when he saw it he could not deny
himself the pleasure of tasting it, so he cut off a little bit and put it i=
nto
his mouth. No sooner had it t=
ouched
his tongue than he heard a strange whispering of little voices outside his
window. He went and listened, and then noticed that it was the sparrows who
were chattering together, and telling one another of all kinds of things wh=
ich
they had seen in the fields and woods. Eating the snake had given him power=
of
understanding the language of animals.
Now it
so happened that on this very day the Queen lost her most beautiful ring, a=
nd
suspicion of having stolen it fell upon this trusty servant, who was allowe=
d to
go everywhere. The King ordered the man to be brought before him, and
threatened with angry words that unless he could before the morrow point out
the thief, he himself should be looked upon as guilty and executed. In vain=
he
declared his innocence; he was dismissed with no better answer.
In his
trouble and fear he went down into the courtyard and took thought how to he=
lp
himself out of his trouble. Now some ducks were sitting together quietly by=
a
brook and taking their rest; and, whilst they were making their feathers sm=
ooth
with their bills, they were having a confidential conversation together. The
servant stood by and listened. They were telling one another of all the pla=
ces
where they had been waddling about all the morning, and what good food they=
had
found, and one said in a pitiful tone, "Something lies heavy on my
stomach; as I was eating in haste I swallowed a ring which lay under the
Queen's window." The servant at once seized her by the neck, carried h=
er
to the kitchen, and said to the cook, "Here is a fine duck; pray, kill=
her."
"Yes," said the cook, and weighed her in his hand; "she has
spared no trouble to fatten herself, and has been waiting to be roasted lon=
g enough."
So he cut off her head, and as she was being dressed for the spit, the Quee=
n's
ring was found inside her.
The
servant could now easily prove his innocence; and the King, to make amends =
for
the wrong, allowed him to ask a favor, and promised him the best place in t=
he
court that he could wish for. The servant refused everything, and only aske=
d for
a horse and some money for traveling, as he had a mind to see the world and=
go
about a little.
When
his request was granted he set out on his way, and one day came to a pond,
where he saw three fishes caught in the reeds and gasping for water. Now, though it is said that fishes=
are
dumb, he heard them lamenting that they must perish so miserably, and, as he
had a kind heart, he got off his horse and put the three prisoners back into
the water. They quivered with delight, put out their heads, and cried to hi=
m, "We
will remember you and repay you for saving us!"
He
rode on, and after a while it seemed to him that he heard a voice in the sa=
nd
at his feet. He listened, and heard an ant-king complain, "Why cannot
folks, with their clumsy beasts, keep off our bodies? That stupid horse, wi=
th
his heavy hoofs, has been treading down my people without mercy!" So he
turned on to a side path and the ant-king cried out to him, "We will
remember you---one good turn deserves another!"
The
path led him into a wood, and here he saw two old ravens standing by their
nest, and throwing out their young ones. "Out with you, you idle, good=
-for-nothing
creatures!" cried they; "we cannot find food for you any longer; =
you
are big enough, and can provide for yourselves." But the poor young ra=
vens
lay upon the ground, flapping their wings, and crying, "Oh, what helpl=
ess
chicks we are! We must shift for ourselves, and yet we cannot fly! What can=
we
do, but lie here and starve?" So the good young fellow alighted and ki=
lled
his horse with his sword, and gave it to them for food. Then they came hopp=
ing
up to it, satisfied their hunger, and cried, "We will remember you---o=
ne
good turn deserves another!"
And
now he had to use his own legs, and when he had walked a long way, he came =
to a
large city. There was a great noise and crowd in the streets, and a man rod=
e up
on horseback, crying aloud, "The King's daughter wants a husband; but
whoever sues for her hand must perform a hard task, and if he does not succ=
eed
he will forfeit his life." Many had already made the attempt, but in v=
ain;
nevertheless when the youth saw the King's daughter he was so overcome by h=
er
great beauty that he forgot all danger, went before the King, and declared
himself a suitor.
So he
was led out to the sea, and a gold ring was thrown into it, in his sight; t=
hen
the King ordered him to fetch this ring up from the bottom of the sea, and
added, "If you come up again without it you will be thrown in again and
again until you perish amid the waves." All the people grieved for the
handsome youth; then they went away, leaving him alone by the sea.
He
stood on the shore and considered what he should do, when suddenly he saw t=
hree
fishes come swimming towards him, and they were the very fishes whose lives=
he
had saved. The one in the middle held a mussel in its mouth, which it laid =
on
the shore at the youth's feet, and when he had taken it up and opened it, t=
here
lay the gold ring in the shell. Full of joy he took it to the King, and
expected that he would grant him the promised reward.
But
when the proud princess perceived that he was not her equal in birth, she
scorned him, and required him first to perform another task. She went down =
into
the garden and strewed with her own hands ten sacks-full of millet-seed on =
the
grass; then she said, "To-morrow morning before sunrise these must be
picked up, and not a single grain be wanting."
The
youth sat down in the garden and considered how it might be possible to per=
form
this task, but he could think of nothing, and there he sat sorrowfully awai=
ting
the break of day, when he should be led to death. But as soon as the first =
rays
of the sun shone into the garden he saw all the ten sacks standing side by
side, quite full, and not a single grain was missing. The ant-king had come=
in the
night with thousands and thousands of ants, and the grateful creatures had =
by
great industry picked up all the millet-seed and gathered them into the sac=
ks.
Presently
the King's daughter herself came down into the garden, and was amazed to see
that the young man had done the task she had given him. But she could not y=
et
conquer her proud heart, and said, "Although he has performed both the
tasks, he shall not be my husband until he has brought me an apple from the
Tree of Life."
The
youth did not know where the Tree of Life stood, but he set out, and would =
have
gone on for ever, as long as his legs would carry him, though he had no hop=
e of
finding it. After he had wandered through three kingdoms, he came one eveni=
ng
to a wood, and lay down under a tree to sleep. But he heard a rustling in t=
he
branches, and a golden apple fell into his hand. At the same time three rav=
ens
flew down to him, perched themselves upon his knee, and said, "We are =
the
three young ravens whom you saved from starving; when we had grown big, and
heard that you were seeking the Golden Apple, we flew over the sea to the e=
nd
of the world, where the Tree of Life stands, and have brought you the
apple." The youth, full of joy, set out homewards, and took the Golden
Apple to the King's beautiful daughter, who had no more excuses left to mak=
e.
They cut the Apple of Life in two and ate it together; and then her heart b=
ecame
full of love for him, and they lived in undisturbed happiness to a great ag=
e.
In a
village dwelt a poor old woman, who had gathered together a dish of beans a=
nd
wanted to cook them. So she made a fire on her hearth, and that it might bu=
rn
the quicker, she lighted it with a handful of straw. When she was emptying =
the
beans into the pan, one dropped without her observing it, and lay on the gr=
ound
beside a straw, and soon afterwards a burning coal from the fire leapt down=
to
the two. Then the straw began and said, "Dear friends, from whence do =
you
come here?" The coal replied, "I fortunately sprang out of the fi=
re,
and if I had not escaped by main force, my death would have been certain,--=
-I
should have been burnt to ashes." The bean said, "I too have esca=
ped
with a whole skin, but if the old woman had got me into the pan, I should h=
ave
been made into broth without any mercy, like my comrades." "And w=
ould
a better fate have fallen to my lot?" said the straw. "The old wo=
man
has destroyed all my brethren in fire and smoke; she seized sixty of them at
once, and took their lives. I luckily slipped through her fingers."
"But
what are we to do now?" said the coal.
"I
think," answered the bean, "that as we have so fortunately escape=
d death,
we should keep together like good companions, and lest a new mischance shou=
ld
overtake us here, we should go away together, and repair to a foreign
country."
The
proposition pleased the two others, and they set out on their way in compan=
y.
Soon, however, they came to a little brook, and as there was no bridge or
foot-plank, they did not know how they were to get over it. The straw hit o=
n a
good idea, and said, "I will lay myself straight across, and then you =
can
walk over on me as on a bridge." The straw therefore stretched itself =
from
one bank to the other, and the coal, who was of an impetuous disposition, t=
ripped
quite boldly on to the newly-built bridge. But when she had reached the mid=
dle,
and heard the water rushing beneath her, she was, after all, afraid, and st=
ood
still, and ventured no farther. The straw, however, began to burn, broke in=
two
pieces, and fell into the stream. The coal slipped after her, hissed when s=
he
got into the water, and breathed her last. The bean, who had prudently stay=
ed
behind on the shore, could not but laugh at the event, was unable to stop, =
and laughed
so heartily that she burst. It would have been all over with her, likewise,=
if,
by good fortune, a tailor who was traveling in search of work, had not sat =
down
to rest by the brook. As he had a compassionate heart he pulled out his nee=
dle
and thread, and sewed her together. The bean thanked him most prettily, but=
as
the tailor used black thread, all beans since then have a black seam.
There
was once on a time a Fisherman who lived with his wife in a miserable hovel
close by the sea, and every day he went out fishing. And once as he was sit=
ting
with his rod, looking at the clear water, his line suddenly went down, far =
down
below, and when he drew it up again he brought out a large Flounder. Then the Flounder said to him, &qu=
ot;Hark,
you Fisherman, I pray you, let me live, I am no Flounder really, but an
enchanted prince. What good will it do you to kill me? I should not be good=
to
eat, put me in the water again, and let me go." "Come," said the Fisherm=
an,
"there is no need for so many words about it---a fish that can talk I
should certainly let go, anyhow," with that he put him back again into=
the
clear water, and the Flounder went to the bottom, leaving a long streak of
blood behind him. Then the Fisherman got up and went home to his wife in the
hovel.
"Husband,"
said the woman, "have you caught nothing to-day?" "No,"
said the man, "I did catch a Flounder, who said he was an enchanted
prince, so I let him go again." "Did you not wish for anything
first?" said the woman. "No," said the man; "what shoul=
d I
wish for?" "Ah," said the woman, "it is surely hard to =
have
to live always in this dirty hovel; you might have wished for a small cotta=
ge
for us. Go back and call him.=
Tell
him we want to have a small cottage, he will certainly give us that."
"Ah," said the man, "why should I go there again?"
"Why," said the woman, "you did catch him, and you let him go
again; he is sure to do it. Go at once." The man still did not quite l=
ike
to go, but did not like to oppose his wife, and went to the sea.
When
he got there the sea was all green and yellow, and no longer so smooth; so =
he
stood still and said,
"Flounder, flounder in the sea=
, Come, I pray thee, here to me;
For my wife, good Ilsabil, Wills not as I'd have her will.&quo=
t;
Then
the Flounder came swimming to him and said, "Well what does she want,
then?" "Ah," said the man, "I did catch you, and my wife
says I really ought to have wished for something. She does not like to live=
in
a wretched hovel any longer. She would like to have a cottage." "=
Go, then,"
said the Flounder, "she has it already."
When
the man went home, his wife was no longer in the hovel, but instead of it t=
here
stood a small cottage, and she was sitting on a bench before the door. Then she took him by the hand and =
said
to him, "Just come inside, look, now isn't this a great deal better?&q=
uot;
So they went in, and there was a small porch, and a pretty little parlor and
bedroom, and a kitchen and pantry, with the best of furniture, and fitted u=
p with
the most beautiful things made of tin and brass, whatsoever was wanted. And
behind the cottage there was a small yard, with hens and ducks, and a little
garden with flowers and fruit. "Look," said the wife, "is not
that nice!" "Yes," said the husband, "and so we must al=
ways
think it, -- now we will live quite contented." "We will think ab=
out
that," said the wife. With that they ate something and went to bed.
Everything
went well for a week or a fortnight, and then the woman said, "Hark yo=
u,
husband, this cottage is far too small for us, and the garden and yard are
little; the Flounder might just as well have given us a larger house. I sho=
uld
like to live in a great stone castle; go to the Flounder, and tell him to g=
ive
us a castle." "Ah,
wife," said the man, "the cottage is quite good enough; why shoul=
d we
live in a castle?" "What!" said the woman; "just go the=
re,
the Flounder can always do that." "No, wife," said the man,
"the Flounder has just given us the cottage, I do not like to go back =
so
soon, it might make him angry." "Go," said the woman, "=
he can
do it quite easily, and will be glad to do it; just you go to him."
The
man's heart grew heavy, and he would not go. He said to himself, "It is
not right," and yet he went. And when he came to the sea the water was
quite purple and dark-blue, and grey and thick, and no longer so green and
yellow, but it was still quiet. And he stood there and said---
"Flounder, flounder in the sea=
, Come, I pray thee, here to me;
For my wife, good Ilsabil, Wills not as I'd have her will.&quo=
t;
"Well,
what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said t=
he man,
half scared, "she wants to live in a great stone castle." "G=
o to
it, then, she is standing before the door," said the Flounder.
Then
the man went away, intending to go home, but when he got there, he found a
great stone palace, and his wife was just standing on the steps going in, a=
nd
she took him by the hand and said, "Come in." So he went in with =
her,
and in the castle was a great hall paved with marble, and many servants, who
flung wide the doors; And the walls were all bright with beautiful hangings,
and in the rooms were chairs and tables of pure gold, and crystal chandelie=
rs
hung from the ceiling, and all the rooms and bed-rooms had carpets, and food
and wine of the very best were standing on all the tables, so that they nea=
rly
broke down beneath it. Behind the house, too, there was a great court-yard,
with stables for horses and cows, and the very best of carriages; there was=
a
magnificent large garden, too, with the most beautiful flowers and fruit-tr=
ees,
and a park quite half a mile long, in which were stags, deer, and hares, and
everything that could be desired.
"Come," said the woman, "isn't that beautiful?"
"Yes, indeed," said the man, "now let it be; and we will liv=
e in
this beautiful castle and be content." "We will consider about
that," said the woman, "and sleep upon it;" thereupon they w=
ent
to bed.
Next
morning the wife awoke first, and it was just daybreak, and from her bed she
saw the beautiful country lying before her. Her husband was still stretching
himself, so she poked him in the side with her elbow, and said, "Get u=
p,
husband, and just peep out of the window. Look you, couldn't we be the King
over all that land? Go to the Flounder, we will be the King." "Ah,
wife," said the man, "why should we be King? I do not want to be
King." "Well," said the wife, "if you won't be King, I
will; go to the Flounder, for I will be King." "Ah, wife," s=
aid
the man, "why do you want to be King? I do not like to say that to
him." "Why not?&quo=
t;
said the woman; "go to him this instant; I must be King!" So the =
man
went, and was quite unhappy because his wife wished to be King. "It is=
not
right; it is not right," thought he. He did not wish to go, but yet he
went.
And
when he came to the sea, it was quite dark-grey, and the water heaved up fr=
om
below, and smelt putrid. Then he went and stood by it, and said,
"Flounder, flounder in the sea=
, Come, I pray thee, here to me;
For my wife, good Ilsabil, Wills not as I'd have her will"=
;
"Well,
what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said t=
he
man, "she wants to be King." "Go to her; she is King
already."
So the
man went, and when he came to the palace, the castle had become much larger,
and had a great tower and magnificent ornaments, and the sentinel was stand=
ing
before the door, and there were numbers of soldiers with kettle-drums and
trumpets. And when he went inside the house, everything was of real marble =
and
gold, with velvet covers and great golden tassels. Then the doors of the ha=
ll
were opened, and there was the court in all its splendour, and his wife was
sitting on a high throne of gold and diamonds, with a great crown of gold on
her head, and a sceptre of pure gold and jewels in her hand, and on both si=
des
of her stood her maids-in-waiting in a row, each of them always one head sh=
orter
than the last.
Then
he went and stood before her, and said, "Ah, wife, and now you are
King." "Yes," =
said
the woman, "now I am King." So he stood and looked at her, and wh=
en
he had looked at her thus for some time, he said, "And now that you are
King, let all else be, now we will wish for nothing more." "Nay,
husband," said the woman, quite anxiously, "I find time pass very
heavily, I can bear it no longer; go to the Flounder---I am King, but I mus=
t be
Emperor, too." "Alas, wife, why do you wish to be Emperor?"
"Husband," said she, "go to the Flounder. I will be
Emperor." "Alas, wife," said the man, "he cannot make y=
ou
Emperor; I may not say that to the fish. There is only one Emperor in the l=
and.
An Emperor the Flounder cannot make you! I assure you he cannot."
"What!"
said the woman, "I am the King, and you are nothing but my husband; wi=
ll
you go this moment? go at once! If he can make a King he can make an empero=
r. I
will be Emperor; go instantly." So he was forced to go. As the man wen=
t,
however, he was troubled in mind, and thought to himself, "It will not=
end
well; it will not end well! Emperor is too shameless! The Flounder will at =
last
be tired out."
With
that he reached the sea, and the sea was quite black and thick, and began to
boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles, and such a sharp wind blew
over it that it curdled, and the man was afraid. Then he went and stood by =
it,
and said,
"Flounder, flounder in the sea=
, Come, I pray thee, here to me;
For my wife, good Ilsabil, Wills not as I'd have her will.&quo=
t;
"Well,
what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas, Flounder,&qu=
ot; said
he, "my wife wants to be Emperor." "Go to her," said the
Flounder; "she is Emperor already."
So the
man went, and when he got there the whole palace was made of polished marble
with alabaster figures and golden ornaments, and soldiers were marching bef=
ore
the door blowing trumpets, and beating cymbals and drums; and in the house,
barons, and counts, and dukes were going about as servants. Then they opened
the doors to him, which were of pure gold. And when he entered, there sat h=
is
wife on a throne, which was made of one piece of gold, and was quite two mi=
les
high; and she wore a great golden crown that was three yards high, and set =
with
diamonds and carbuncles, and in one hand she had the sceptre, and in the ot=
her
the imperial orb; and on both sides of her stood the yeomen of the guard in=
two
rows, each being smaller than the one before him, from the biggest giant, w=
ho
was two miles high, to the very smallest dwarf, just as big as my little
finger. And before it stood a number of princes and dukes.
Then
the man went and stood among them, and said, "Wife, are you Emperor no=
w?"
"Yes," said she, "now I am Emperor." Then he stood and
looked at her well, and when he had looked at her thus for some time, he sa=
id, "Ah,
wife, be content, now that you are Emperor." "Husband," said
she, "why are you standing there? Now, I am Emperor, but I will be Pope
too; go to the Flounder." "Alas, wife," said the man, "=
what
will you not wish for? You cannot be Pope. There is but one in Christendom.=
He
cannot make you Pope." "Husband," said she, "I will be
Pope; go immediately, I must be Pope this very day." "No, wife,&q=
uot;
said the man, "I do not like to say that to him; that would not do, it=
is
too much; the Flounder can't make you Pope." "Husband," said
she, "what nonsense! If he can make an emperor he can make a pope. Go =
to
him directly. I am Emperor, and you are nothing but my husband; will you go=
at
once?"
Then
he was afraid and went; but he was quite faint, and shivered and shook, and=
his
knees and legs trembled. And a high wind blew over the land, and the clouds
flew, and towards evening all grew dark, and the leaves fell from the trees,
and the water rose and roared as if it were boiling, and splashed upon the
shore. And in the distance he saw ships which were firing guns in their sore
need, pitching and tossing on the waves. And yet in the midst of the sky th=
ere
was still a small bit of blue, though on every side it was as red as in a h=
eavy
storm. So, full of despair, he went and stood in much fear and said,
"Flounder,
flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, here to me;" For my wife, good
Ilsabil, Wills not as I'd have her will.
"Well,
what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said t=
he
man, "she wants to be Pope." "Go to her then," said the
Flounder; "she is Pope already."
So he
went, and when he got there, he saw what seemed to be a large church surrou=
nded
by palaces. He pushed his way through the crowd. Inside, however, everything
was lighted up with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife was cl=
ad
in gold, and she was sitting on a much higher throne, and had three great
golden crowns on, and round about her there was much ecclesiastical splendo=
ur;
and on both sides of her was a row of candles the largest of which was as t=
all
as the very tallest tower, down to the very smallest kitchen candle, and all
the emperors and kings were on their knees before her, kissing her shoe. &q=
uot;Wife,"
said the man, and looked attentively at her, "are you now Pope?"
"Yes," said she, "I am Pope." So he stood and looked at
her, and it was just as if he was looking at the bright sun. When he had st=
ood
looking at her thus for a short time, he said, "Ah, wife, if you are P=
ope,
do let well alone!" But she looked as stiff as a post, and did not mov=
e or
show any signs of life. Then said he, "Wife, now that you are Pope, be
satisfied, you cannot become anything greater now." "I will consi=
der
about that," said the woman. Thereupon they both went to bed, but she =
was
not satisfied, and greediness let her have no sleep, for she was continually
thinking what there was left for her to be.
The
man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal during the da=
y;
but the woman could not fall asleep at all, and flung herself from one side=
to
the other the whole night through, thinking always what more was left for h=
er
to be, but unable to call to mind anything else. At length the sun began to
rise, and when the woman saw the red of dawn, she sat up in bed and looked =
at
it. And when, through the window, she saw the sun thus rising, she said,
"Cannot I, too, order the sun and moon to rise?" "Husband,&q=
uot;
she said, poking him in the ribs with her elbows, "wake up! go to the
Flounder, for I wish to be even as God is." The man was still half asl=
eep,
but he was so horrified that he fell out of bed. He thought he must have he=
ard
amiss, and rubbed his eyes, and said, "Alas, wife, what are you
saying?" "Husband," said she, "if I can't order the sun=
and
moon to rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can't =
bear
it. I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, unless I can ma=
ke
them rise myself." Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder r=
an
over him, and said, "Go at once; I wish to be like unto God."
"Alas, wife," said the man, falling on his knees before her, &quo=
t;the
Flounder cannot do that; he can make an emperor and a pope; I beseech you, =
go
on as you are, and be Pope." Then she fell into a rage, and her hair f=
lew
wildly about her head, and she cried, "I will not endure this, I'll not
bear it any longer; wilt thou go?" Then he put on his trousers and ran
away like a madman. But outside a great storm was raging, and blowing so ha=
rd
that he could scarcely keep his feet; houses and trees toppled over, the
mountains trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch black, and=
it
thundered and lightened, and the sea came in with black waves as high as
church-towers and mountains, and all with crests of white foam at the top. =
Then
he cried, but could not hear his own words,
"Flounder, flounder in the sea=
, Come, I pray thee, here to me;
For my wife, good Ilsabil, Wills not as I'd have her will.&quo=
t;
"Well,
what does she want, then?" said the Flounder. "Alas," said h=
e,
"she wants to be like unto God." "Go to her, and you will fi=
nd
her back again in the dirty hovel." And there they are living still at
this very time.
One
summer's morning a little tailor was sitting on his table by the window; he=
was
in good spirits, and sewed with all his might. Then came a peasant woman do=
wn
the street crying, "Good jams, cheap! Good jams, cheap!" This rang
pleasantly in the tailor's ears; he stretched his delicate head out of the
window, and called, "Come up here, dear woman; here you will get rid of
your goods." The woman c=
ame up
the three steps to the tailor with her heavy basket, and he made her unpack=
the
whole of the pots for him. He inspected all of them, lifted them up, put hi=
s nose
to them, and at length said, "The jam seems to me to be good, so weigh=
me
out four ounces, dear woman, and if it is a quarter of a pound that is of no
consequence." The woman who had hoped to find a good sale, gave him wh=
at
he desired, but went away quite angry and grumbling. "Now, God bless t=
he
jam to my use," cried the little tailor, "and give me health and
strength;" so he brought the bread out of the cupboard, cut himself a
piece right across the loaf and spread the jam over it. "This won't ta=
ste
bitter," said he, "but I will just finish the jacket before I tak=
e a
bite." He laid the bread near him, sewed on, and in his joy, made bigg=
er
and bigger stitches. In the meantime the smell of the sweet jam ascended so=
to
the wall, where the flies were sitting in great numbers, that they were
attracted and descended on it in hosts. "Hola! who invited you?" =
said
the little tailor, and drove the unbidden guests away. The flies, however, =
who
understood no German, would not be turned away, but came back again in
ever-increasing companies. The little tailor at last lost all patience, and=
got
a bit of cloth from the hole under his work-table, and saying, "Wait, =
and
I will give it to you," struck it mercilessly on them. When he drew it
away and counted, there lay before him no fewer than seven, dead and with l=
egs
stretched out. "Art thou a fellow of that sort?" said he, and cou=
ld
not help admiring his own bravery. "The whole town shall know of
this!" And the little tailor hastened to cut himself a girdle, stitched
it, and embroidered on it in large letters, "Seven at one stroke!"
"What, the town!" he continued, "The whole world shall hear =
of
it!" and his heart wagged with joy like a lamb's tail. The tailor put =
on
the girdle, and resolved to go forth into the world, because he thought his
workshop was too small for his valour. Before he went away, he sought about=
in
the house to see if there was anything which he could take with him; howeve=
r,
he found nothing but an old cheese, and that he put in his pocket. In front=
of
the door he observed a bird which had caught itself in the thicket. It had =
to go
into his pocket with the cheese. Now he took to the road boldly, and as he =
was
light and nimble, he felt no fatigue. The road led him up a mountain, and w=
hen
he had reached the highest point of it, there sat a powerful giant looking
about him quite comfortably. The little tailor went bravely up, spoke to hi=
m,
and said, "Good day, comrade, so thou art sitting there overlooking the
wide-spread world! I am just on my way thither, and want to try my luck. Ha=
st
thou any inclination to go with me?" The giant looked contemptuously at
the tailor, and said, "Thou ragamuffin! Thou miserable creature!"=
"Oh,
indeed?" answered the little tailor, and unbuttoned his coat, and show=
ed
the giant the girdle, "There mayst thou read what kind of a man I
am!" The giant read, "Seven at one stroke," and thought that
they had been men whom the tailor had killed, and began to feel a little
respect for the tiny fellow. Nevertheless, he wished to try him first, and =
took
a stone in his hand and squeezed it together so that water dropped out of i=
t.
"Do that likewise," said the giant, "if thou hast
strength?" "Is that all?" said the tailor, "that is chi=
ld's
play with us!" and put his hand into his pocket, brought out the soft
cheese, and pressed it until the liquid ran out of it. "Faith," s=
aid
he, "that was a little better, wasn't it?" The giant did not know
what to say, and could not believe it of the little man. Then the giant pic=
ked
up a stone and threw it so high that the eye could scarcely follow it. "Now, little mite of a man, d=
o that
likewise." "Well thrown," said the tailor, "but after a=
ll
the stone came down to earth again; I will throw you one which shall never =
come
back at all." And he put his hand into his pocket, took out the bird, =
and
threw it into the air. The bird, delighted with its liberty, rose, flew away
and did not come back. "How does that shot please you, comrade?"
asked the tailor. "Thou =
canst
certainly throw," said the giant, "but now we will see if thou art
able to carry anything properly." He took the little tailor to a mighty
oak tree which lay there felled on the ground, and said, "If thou art
strong enough, help me to carry the tree out of the forest." "Rea=
dily,"
answered the little man; "take thou the trunk on thy shoulders, and I =
will
raise up the branches and twigs; after all, they are the heaviest." The
giant took the trunk on his shoulder, but the tailor seated himself on a
branch, and the giant who could not look round, had to carry away the whole
tree, and the little tailor into the bargain: he behind, was quite merry and
happy, and whistled the song, "Three tailors rode forth from the
gate," as if carrying the tree were child's play. The giant, after he =
had
dragged the heavy burden part of the way, could go no further, and cried,
"Hark you, I shall have to let the tree fall!" The tailor sprang
nimbly down, seized the tree with both arms as if he had been carrying it, =
and
said to the giant, "Thou art such a great fellow, and yet canst not ev=
en
carry the tree!"
They
went on together, and as they passed a cherry-tree, the giant laid hold of =
the
top of the tree where the ripest fruit was hanging, bent it down, gave it i=
nto
the tailor's hand, and bade him eat. But the little tailor was much too wea=
k to
hold the tree, and when the giant let it go, it sprang back again, and the
tailor was hurried into the air with it. When he had fallen down again with=
out
injury, the giant said, "What is this? Hast thou not strength enough to
hold the weak twig?" "There is no lack of strength," answered
the little tailor. "Dost thou think that could be anything to a man who
has struck down seven at one blow? I leapt over the tree because the huntsm=
en
are shooting down there in the thicket. Jump as I did, if thou canst do
it." The giant made the attempt, but could not get over the tree, and
remained hanging in the branches, so that in this also the tailor kept the
upper hand.
The
giant said, "If thou art such a valiant fellow, come with me into our
cavern and spend the night with us." The little tailor was willing, and
followed him. When they went into the cave, other giants were sitting there=
by
the fire, and each of them had a roasted sheep in his hand and was eating i=
t.
The little tailor looked round and thought, "It is much more spacious =
here
than in my workshop." The giant showed him a bed, and said he was to l=
ie
down in it and sleep. The bed, however, was too big for the little tailor; =
he
did not lie down in it, but crept into a corner. When it was midnight, and =
the
giant thought that the little tailor was lying in a sound sleep, he got up,
took a great iron bar, cut through the bed with one blow, and thought he had
given the grasshopper his finishing stroke. With the earliest dawn the gian=
ts
went into the forest, and had quite forgotten the little tailor, when all at
once he walked up to them quite merrily and boldly. The giants were terrifi=
ed, they
were afraid that he would strike them all dead, and ran away in a great hur=
ry.
The
little tailor went onwards, always following his own pointed nose. After he=
had
walked for a long time, he came to the courtyard of a royal palace, and as =
he
felt weary, he lay down on the grass and fell asleep. Whilst he lay there, =
the
people came and inspected him on all sides, and read on his girdle, "S=
even
at one stroke." "Ah," said they, "What does the great
warrior here in the midst of peace? He must be a mighty lord." They we=
nt
and announced him to the King, and gave it as their opinion that if war sho=
uld
break out, this would be a weighty and useful man who ought on no account t=
o be
allowed to depart. The counsel pleased the King, and he sent one of his
courtiers to the little tailor to offer him military service when he awoke.=
The
ambassador remained standing by the sleeper, waited until he stretched his
limbs and opened his eyes, and then conveyed to him this proposal. "For
this very reason have I come here," the tailor replied, "I am rea=
dy
to enter the King's service." He was therefore honorably received and a
special dwelling was assigned him.
The
soldiers, however, were set against the little tailor, and wished him a
thousand miles away. "What is to be the end of this?" they said a=
mongst
themselves. "If we quarrel with him, and he strikes about him, seven o=
f us
will fall at every blow; not one of us can stand against him." They ca=
me
therefore to a decision, betook themselves in a body to the King, and begged
for their dismissal. "We are not prepared," said they, "to s=
tay
with a man who kills seven at one stroke." The King was sorry that for=
the
sake of one he should lose all his faithful servants, wished that he had ne=
ver
set eyes on the tailor, and would willingly have been rid of him again. But=
he
did not venture to give him his dismissal, for he dreaded lest he should st=
rike
him and all his people dead, and place himself on the royal throne. He thou=
ght
about it for a long time, and at last found good counsel. He sent to the li=
ttle
tailor and caused him to be informed that as he was such a great warrior, he
had one request to make to him. In a forest of his country lived two giants=
who
caused great mischief with their robbing, murdering, ravaging, and burning,=
and
no one could approach them without putting himself in danger of death. If t=
he
tailor conquered and killed these two giants, he would give him his only
daughter to wife, and half of his kingdom as a dowry, likewise one hundred
horsemen should go with him to assist him.=
"That would indeed be a fine thing for a man like me!" tho=
ught
the little tailor. "One is not offered a beautiful princess and half a
kingdom every day of one's life!" "Oh, yes," he replied, &qu=
ot;I
will soon subdue the giants, and do not require the help of the hundred
horsemen to do it; he who can hit seven with one blow has no need to be afr=
aid
of two."
The
little tailor went forth, and the hundred horsemen followed him. When he ca=
me
to the outskirts of the forest, he said to his followers, "Just stay
waiting here, I alone will soon finish off the giants." Then he bounde=
d into
the forest and looked about right and left. After a while he perceived both
giants. They lay sleeping under a tree, and snored so that the branches wav=
ed
up and down. The little tailor, not idle, gathered two pocketsful of stones,
and with these climbed up the tree. When he was half-way up, he slipped dow=
n by
a branch, until he sat just above the sleepers, and then let one stone after
another fall on the breast of one of the giants. For a long time the giant =
felt
nothing, but at last he awoke, pushed his comrade, and said, "Why art =
thou
knocking me?" "Thou must be dreaming," said the other, "=
;I
am not knocking thee." They laid themselves down to sleep again, and t=
hen
the tailor threw a stone down on the second. "What is the meaning of
this?" cried the other. "Why art thou pelting me?" "I am
not pelting thee," answered the first, growling. They disputed about it
for a time, but as they were weary they let the matter rest, and their eyes
closed once more. The little tailor began his game again, picked out the
biggest stone, and threw it with all his might on the breast of the first
giant. "That is too bad!" cried he, and sprang up like a madman, =
and
pushed his companion against the tree until it shook. The other paid him ba=
ck
in the same coin, and they got into such a rage that they tore up trees and
belabored each other so long, that at last they both fell down dead on the
ground at the same time. Then the little tailor leapt down. "It is a l=
ucky
thing," said he, "that they did not tear up the tree on which I w=
as
sitting, or I should have had to spring on to another like a squirrel; but =
we
tailors are nimble." He drew out his sword and gave each of them a cou=
ple
of thrusts in the breast, and then went out to the horsemen and said, "=
;The
work is done; I have given both of them their finishing stroke, but it was =
hard
work! They tore up trees in their sore need, and defended themselves with t=
hem,
but all that is to no purpose when a man like myself comes, who can kill se=
ven
at one blow." "But are you not wounded?" asked the horsemen.
"You need not concern yourself about that," answered the tailor, =
"They
have not bent one hair of mine." The horsemen would not believe him, a=
nd
rode into the forest; there they found the giants swimming in their blood, =
and
all round about lay the torn-up trees.
The
little tailor demanded of the King the promised reward; he, however, repent=
ed
of his promise, and again bethought himself how he could get rid of the her=
o.
"Before thou receivest my daughter, and the half of my kingdom," =
said
he to him, "thou must perform one more heroic deed. In the forest roam=
s a
unicorn which does great harm, and thou must catch it first." "I =
fear
one unicorn still less than two giants. Seven at one blow, is my kind of
affair." He took a rope and an axe with him, went forth into the fores=
t,
and again bade those who were sent with him to wait outside. He had to seek
long. The unicorn soon came towards him, and rushed directly on the tailor,=
as
if it would spit him on his horn without more ceremony. "Softly, softl=
y;
it can't be done as quickly as that," said he, and stood still and wai=
ted
until the animal was quite close, and then sprang nimbly behind the tree. T=
he
unicorn ran against the tree with all its strength, and struck its horn so =
fast
in the trunk that it had not strength enough to draw it out again, and thus=
it
was caught. "Now, I have got the bird," said the tailor, and came=
out
from behind the tree and put the rope round its neck, and then with his axe=
he
hewed the horn out of the tree, and when all was ready he led the beast away
and took it to the King.
The
King still would not give him the promised reward, and made a third demand.
Before the wedding the tailor was to catch him a wild boar that made great
havoc in the forest, and the huntsmen should give him their help.
"Willingly," said the tailor, "that is child's play!" He
did not take the huntsmen with him into the forest, and they were well plea=
sed that
he did not, for the wild boar had several times received them in such a man=
ner
that they had no inclination to lie in wait for him. When the boar perceived
the tailor, it ran on him with foaming mouth and whetted tusks, and was abo=
ut
to throw him to the ground, but the active hero sprang into a chapel which =
was
near, and up to the window at once, and in one bound out again. The boar ra=
n in
after him, but the tailor ran round outside and shut the door behind it, and
then the raging beast, which was much too heavy and awkward to leap out of =
the
window, was caught. The little tailor called the huntsmen thither that they
might see the prisoner with their own eyes. The hero, however went to the King=
, who
was now, whether he liked it or not, obliged to keep his promise, and gave =
him
his daughter and the half of his kingdom. Had he known that it was no warli=
ke
hero, but a little tailor who was standing before him, it would have gone to
his heart still more than it did. The wedding was held with great magnifice=
nce
and small joy, and out of a tailor a king was made.
After
some time the young Queen heard her husband say in his dreams at night,
"Boy, make me the doublet, and patch the pantaloons, or else I will rap
the yard-measure over thine ears." Then she discovered in what state of
life the young lord had been born, and next morning complained of her wrong=
s to
her father, and begged him to help her to get rid of her husband, who was
nothing else but a tailor. The King comforted her and said, "Leave thy
bed-room door open this night, and my servants shall stand outside, and whe=
n he
has fallen asleep shall go in, bind him, and take him on board a ship which
shall carry him into the wide world." The woman was satisfied with thi=
s;
but the King's armour-bearer, who had heard all, was friendly with the young
lord, and informed him of the whole plot. "I'll put a screw into that
business," said the little tailor. At night he went to bed with his wi=
fe
at the usual time, and when she thought that he had fallen asleep, she got =
up,
opened the door, and then lay down again. The little tailor, who was only
pretending to be asleep, began to cry out in a clear voice, "Boy, make=
me
the doublet and patch me the pantaloons, or I will rap the yard-measure over
thine ears. I smote seven at one blow. I killed two giants, I brought away =
one
unicorn and caught a wild boar, and am I to fear those who are standing out=
side
the room." When these men heard the tailor speaking thus, they were ov=
ercome
by a great dread, and ran as if the wild huntsman were behind them, and non=
e of
them would venture anything further against him. So the little tailor was a
king and remained one, to the end of his life.
The
wife of a rich man fell sick, and as she felt that her end was drawing near,
she called her only daughter to her bedside and said, "Dear child, be =
good
and pious, and then the good God will always protect thee, and I will look =
down
on thee from heaven and be near thee." Thereupon she closed her eyes a=
nd
departed. Every day the maiden went out to her mother's grave, and wept, and
she remained pious and good. When winter came the snow spread a white sheet
over the grave, and when the spring sun had drawn it off again, the man had
taken another wife.
The
woman had brought two daughters into the house with her, who were beautiful=
and
fair of face, but vile and black of heart. Now began a bad time for the poor
step-child. "Is the stupid goose to sit in the parlour with us?" =
said
they. "He who wants to e=
at
bread must earn it; out with the kitchen-wench." They took her pretty
clothes away from her, put an old grey bedgown on her, and gave her wooden
shoes. "Just look at the proud princess, how decked out she is!" =
they
cried, and laughed, and led her into the kitchen. There she had to do hard =
work
from morning till night, get up before daybreak, carry water, light fires, =
cook
and wash. Besides this, the sisters did her every imaginable injury -- they
mocked her and emptied her peas and lentils into the ashes, so that she was
forced to sit and pick them out again. In the evening when she had worked t=
ill she
was weary she had no bed to go to, but had to sleep by the fireside in the
ashes. And as on that account she always looked dusty and dirty, they called
her Cinderella. It happened that the father was once going to the fair, and=
he
asked his two step-daughters what he should bring back for them.
"Beautiful dresses," said one, "Pearls and jewels," said
the second. "And thou, Cinderella," said he, "what wilt thou
have?" "Father, break off for me the first branch which knocks
against your hat on your way home." So he bought beautiful dresses, pe=
arls
and jewels for his two step-daughters, and on his way home, as he was riding
through a green thicket, a hazel twig brushed against him and knocked off h=
is hat.
Then he broke off the branch and took it with him. When he reached home he =
gave
his step-daughters the things which they had wished for, and to Cinderella =
he
gave the branch from the hazel-bush. Cinderella thanked him, went to her
mother's grave and planted the branch on it, and wept so much that the tears
fell down on it and watered it. And it grew, however, and became a handsome
tree. Thrice a day Cinderella went and sat beneath it, and wept and prayed,=
and
a little white bird always came on the tree, and if Cinderella expressed a
wish, the bird threw down to her what she had wished for.
It
happened, however, that the King appointed a festival which was to last thr=
ee
days, and to which all the beautiful young girls in the country were invite=
d,
in order that his son might choose himself a bride. When the two step-siste=
rs
heard that they too were to appear among the number, they were delighted,
called Cinderella and said, "Comb our hair for us, brush our shoes and
fasten our buckles, for we are going to the festival at the King's
palace." Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because she too would have liked=
to
go with them to the dance, and begged her step-mother to allow her to do so.
"Thou go, Cinderella!" said she; "Thou art dusty and dirty a=
nd
wouldst go to the festival? Thou hast no clothes and shoes, and yet wouldst
dance!" As, however, Cinderella went on asking, the step-mother at last
said, "I have emptied a dish of lentils into the ashes for thee, if th=
ou
hast picked them out again in two hours, thou shalt go with us." The
maiden went through the back-door into the garden, and called, "You ta=
me
pigeons, you turtle-doves, and all you birds beneath the sky, come and help=
me
to pick
"The good into the pot, The bad into the crop."
Then
two white pigeons came in by the kitchen-window, and afterwards the turtle-=
doves,
and at last all the birds beneath the sky, came whirring and crowding in, a=
nd
alighted amongst the ashes. And the pigeons nodded with their heads and beg=
an
pick, pick, pick, pick, and the rest began also pick, pick, pick, pick, and
gathered all the good grains into the dish. Hardly had one hour passed befo=
re
they had finished, and all flew out again. Then the girl took the dish to h=
er
step-mother, and was glad, and believed that now she would be allowed to go
with them to the festival. But the step-mother said, "No, Cinderella, =
thou
hast no clothes and thou canst not dance; thou wouldst only be laughed
at." And as Cinderella wept at this, the step-mother said, "If th=
ou
canst pick two dishes of lentils out of the ashes for me in one hour, thou
shalt go with us." And she thought to herself, "That she most
certainly cannot do." When the step-mother had emptied the two dishes =
of
lentils amongst the ashes, the maiden went through the back-door into the
garden and cried, You tame pigeons, you turtle-doves, and all you birds und=
er
heaven, come and help me to pick
"The good into the pot, The bad into the crop."
Then
two white pigeons came in by the kitchen-window, and afterwards the turtle-=
doves,
and at length all the birds beneath the sky, came whirring and crowding in,=
and
alighted amongst the ashes. And the doves nodded with their heads and began
pick, pick, pick, pick, and the others began also pick, pick, pick, pick, a=
nd
gathered all the good seeds into the dishes, and before half an hour was ov=
er
they had already finished, and all flew out again. Then the maiden carried =
the
dishes to the step-mother and was delighted, and believed that she might no=
w go
with them to the festival. But the step-mother said, "All this will not
help thee; thou goest not with us, for thou hast no clothes and canst not
dance; we should be ashamed of thee!" On this she turned her back on
Cinderella, and hurried away with her two proud daughters.
As no
one was now at home, Cinderella went to her mother's grave beneath the
hazel-tree, and cried,
"Shiver and quiver, little tre=
e, Silver and gold throw down over me.=
"
Then
the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, and slippers embroidered
with silk and silver. She put on the dress with all speed, and went to the
festival. Her step-sisters and the step-mother however did not know her, and
thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the
golden dress. They never once thought of Cinderella, and believed that she =
was
sitting at home in the dirt, picking lentils out of the ashes. The prince w=
ent
to meet her, took her by the hand and danced with her. He would dance with =
no
other maiden, and never left loose of her hand, and if any one else came to
invite her, he said, "This is my partner."
She
danced till it was evening, and then she wanted to go home. But the King's =
son
said, "I will go with thee and bear thee company," for he wished =
to
see to whom the beautiful maiden belonged. She escaped from him, however, a=
nd
sprang into the pigeon-house. The King's son waited until her father came, =
and
then he told him that the stranger maiden had leapt into the pigeon-house. =
The
old man thought, "Can it be Cinderella?" and they had to bring hi=
m an
axe and a pickaxe that he might hew the pigeon-house to pieces, but no one =
was
inside it. And when they got =
home
Cinderella lay in her dirty clothes among the ashes, and a dim little oil-l=
amp was
burning on the mantle-piece, for Cinderella had jumped quickly down from the
back of the pigeon-house and had run to the little hazel-tree, and there sh=
e had
taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had
taken them away again, and then she had placed herself in the kitchen among=
st
the ashes in her grey gown.
Next
day when the festival began afresh, and her parents and the step-sisters had
gone once more, Cinderella went to the hazel-tree and said---
"Shiver and quiver, my little =
tree, Silver and gold throw down over me.=
"
Then
the bird threw down a much more beautiful dress than on the preceding day. =
And
when Cinderella appeared at the festival in this dress, every one was
astonished at her beauty. The King's son had waited until she came, and
instantly took her by the hand and danced with no one but her. When others =
came
and invited her, he said, "She is my partner." When evening came =
she
wished to leave, and the King's son followed her and wanted to see into whi=
ch
house she went. But she sprang away from him, and into the garden behind the
house. Therein stood a beauti=
ful
tall tree on which hung the most magnificent pears. She clambered so nimbly=
between
the branches like a squirrel that the King's son did not know where she was
gone. He waited until her father came, and said to him, "The
stranger-maiden has escaped from me, and I believe she has climbed up the
pear-tree." The father thought, "Can it be Cinderella?" and =
had
an axe brought and cut the tree down, but no one was on it. And when they g=
ot into
the kitchen, Cinderella lay there amongst the ashes, as usual, for she had
jumped down on the other side of the tree, had taken the beautiful dress to=
the
bird on the little hazel-tree, and put on her grey gown.
On the
third day, when the parents and sisters had gone away, Cinderella went once
more to her mother's grave and said to the little tree---
"Shiver and quiver, my little =
tree, Silver and gold throw down over me.=
"
And
now the bird threw down to her a dress which was more splendid and magnific=
ent
than any she had yet had, and the slippers were golden. And when she went to
the festival in the dress, no one knew how to speak for astonishment. The
King's son danced with her only, and if any one invited her to dance, he sa=
id,
"She is my partner."
When
evening came, Cinderella wished to leave, and the King's son was anxious to=
go
with her, but she escaped from him so quickly that he could not follow
her. The King's son had, howe=
ver,
used a strategem, and had caused the whole staircase to be smeared with pit=
ch,
and there, when she ran down, had the maiden's left slipper remained sticki=
ng.
The King's son picked it up, and it was small and dainty, and all golden. N=
ext
morning, he went with it to the father, and said to him, "No one shall=
be
my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits." Then were the two sisters glad, fo=
r they
had pretty feet. The eldest went with the shoe into her room and wanted to =
try
it on, and her mother stood by. But she could not get her big toe into it, =
and
the shoe was too small for her. Then her mother gave her a knife and said,
"Cut the toe off; when thou art Queen thou wilt have no more need to g=
o on
foot." The maiden cut the toe off, forced the foot into the shoe,
swallowed the pain, and went out to the King's son. Then he took her on his=
his
horse as his bride and rode away with her. They were, however, obliged to p=
ass
the grave, and there, on the hazel-tree, sat the two pigeons and cried,
"Turn and peep, turn and peep,=
There's blood within the shoe,
The shoe it is too small for her, <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The true bride waits for you."=
Then
he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was streaming from it. He turned
his horse round and took the false bride home again, and said she was not t=
he
true one, and that the other sister was to put the shoe on. Then this one w=
ent
into her chamber and got her toes safely into the shoe, but her heel was too
large. So her mother gave her a knife and said, "Cut a bit off thy hee=
l;
when thou art Queen thou wilt have no more need to go on foot." The ma=
iden
cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, =
and
went out to the King's son. He took her on his horse as his bride, and rode
away with her, but when they passed by the hazel-tree, two little pigeons s=
at
on it and cried,
"Turn and peep, turn and peep,=
There's blood within the shoe
The shoe it is too small for her, <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The true bride waits for you."=
He
looked down at her foot and saw how the blood was running out of her shoe, =
and
how it had stained her white stocking. Then he turned his horse and took the
false bride home again. "This also is not the right one," said he,
"have you no other daughter?" "No," said the man, "=
;There
is still a little stunted kitchen-wench which my late wife left behind her,=
but
she cannot possibly be the bride." The King's son said he was to send =
her
up to him; but the mother answered, "Oh, no, she is much too dirty, she
cannot show herself!" He absolutely insisted on it, and Cinderella had=
to
be called. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bow=
ed
down before the King's son, who gave her the golden shoe. Then she seated
herself on a stool, drew her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it =
into
the slipper, which fitted like a glove. And when she rose up and the King's=
son
looked at her face he recognized the beautiful maiden who had danced with h=
im
and cried, "That is the true bride!" The step-mother and the two
sisters were terrified and became pale with rage; he, however, took Cindere=
lla
on his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel-tree, the =
two
white doves cried---
"Turn and peep, turn and peep,=
No blood is in the shoe, The shoe is not too small for her, =
The true bride rides with you,"=
;
and
when they had cried that, the two came flying down and placed themselves on
Cinderella's shoulders, one on the right, the other on the left, and remain=
ed
sitting there.
When
the wedding with the King's son had to be celebrated, the two false sisters
came and wanted to get into favour with Cinderella and share her good
fortune. When the betrothed c=
ouple
went to church, the elder was at the right side and the younger at the left,
and the pigeons pecked out one eye of each of them. Afterwards as they came back, the =
elder
was at the left, and the younger at the right, and then the pigeons pecked =
out
the other eye of each. And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they w=
ere
punished with blindness as long as they lived.
There
was once a King's son who was seized with a desire to travel about the worl=
d,
and took no one with him but a faithful servant. One day he came to a great
forest, and when darkness overtook him he could find no shelter, and knew n=
ot
where to pass the night. Then he saw a girl who was going towards a small
house, and when he came nearer, he saw that the maiden was young and beauti=
ful.
He spoke to her, and said, "Dear child, can I and my servant find shel=
ter
for the night in the little house?" "Oh, yes," said the girl=
in
a sad voice, "that you certainly can, but I do not advise you to ventu=
re
it. Do not go in." "Why not?" asked the King's son. The maid=
en
sighed and said, "My step-mother practises wicked arts; she is
ill-disposed toward strangers." Then he saw very well that he had come=
to
the house of a witch, but as it was dark, and he could not go farther, and =
also
was not afraid, he entered. The old woman was sitting in an armchair by the
fire, and looked at the stranger with her red eyes. "Good evening,&quo=
t;
growled she, and pretended to be quite friendly. "Take a seat and rest
yourselves." She blew up the fire on which she was cooking something i=
n a
small pot. The daughter warned the two to be prudent, to eat nothing, and d=
rink
nothing, for the old woman brewed evil drinks. They slept quietly until ear=
ly
morning. When they were making ready for their departure, and the King's son
was already seated on his horse, the old woman said, "Stop a moment, I
will first hand you a parting draught." Whilst she fetched it, the Kin=
g's
son rode away, and the servant who had to buckle his saddle tight, was the =
only
one present when the wicked witch came with the drink. "Take that to y=
our master,"
said she. But at that instant the glass broke and the poison spirted on the
horse, and it was so strong that the animal immediately fell down dead. The
servant ran after his master and told him what had happened, but would not
leave his saddle behind him, and ran back to fetch it. When, however, he ca=
me
to the dead horse a raven was already sitting on it devouring it. "Who
knows whether we shall find anything better to-day?" said the servant;=
so
he killed the raven, and took it with him. And now they journeyed onwards i=
nto
the forest the whole day, but could not get out of it. By nightfall they fo=
und
an inn and entered it. The servant gave the raven to the innkeeper to make
ready for supper. They had, however, stumbled on a den of murderers, and du=
ring
the darkness twelve of these came, intending to kill the strangers and rob
them. Before they set about this work, they sat down to supper, and the
innkeeper and the witch sat down with them, and together they ate a dish of
soup in which was cut up the flesh of the raven. Hardly, however, had they swallowed=
a
couple of mouthfuls, before they all fell down dead, for the raven had
communicated to them the poison from the horse-flesh. There was no no one e=
lse
left in the house but the innkeeper's daughter, who was honest, and had tak=
en
no part in their godless deeds. She opened all doors to the stranger and sh=
owed
him the heaped-up treasures. But the King's son said she might keep everyth=
ing,
he would have none of it, and rode onwards with his servant.
After
they had traveled about for a long time, they came to a town in which was a
beautiful but proud princess, who had caused it to be proclaimed that whoso=
ever
should set her a riddle which she could not guess, that man should be her
husband; but if she guessed it, his head must be cut off. She had three day=
s to
guess it in, but was so clever that she always found the answer to the ridd=
le
given her, before the appointed time. Nine suitors had already perished in =
this
manner, when the King's son arrived, and blinded by her great beauty, was
willing to stake his life for it. Then he went to her and laid his riddle
before her. "What is this?" said he, "One slew none, and yet
slew twelve." She did not know what that was, she thought and thought,=
but
she could not find out, she opened her riddle-books, but it was not in
them---in short, her wisdom was at an end.=
As she did not know how to help herself, she ordered her maid to cre=
ep
into the lord's sleeping-chamber, and listen to his dreams, and thought tha=
t he
would perhaps speak in his sleep and discover the riddle. But the clever
servant had placed himself in the bed instead of his master, and when the m=
aid
came there, he tore off from her the mantle in which she had wrapped hersel=
f,
and chased her out with rods. The second night the King's daughter sent her
maid-in-waiting, who was to see if she could succeed better in listening, b=
ut
the servant took her mantle also away from her, and hunted her out with rod=
s.
Now the master believed himself safe for the third night, and lay down in h=
is
own bed. Then came the princess herself, and she had put on a misty-grey
mantle, and she seated herself near him. And when she thought that he was
asleep and dreaming, she spoke to him, and hoped that he would answer in hi=
s sleep,
as many do, but he was awake, and understood and heard everything quite wel=
l.
Then she asked, "One slew none, what is that?" He replied, "A
raven, which ate of a dead and poisoned horse, and died of it." She in=
quired
further, "And yet slew twelve, what is that?" He answered, "=
That
means twelve murderers, who ate the raven and died of it."
When
she knew the answer to the riddle she wanted to steal away, but he held her
mantle so fast that she was forced to leave it behind her. Next morning, the
King's daughter announced that she had guessed the riddle, and sent for the
twelve judges and expounded it before them. But the youth begged for a hear=
ing,
and said, "She stole into my room in the night and questioned me,
otherwise she could not have discovered it." The judges said, "Br=
ing
us a proof of this." Then were the three mantles brought thither by the
servant, and when the judges saw the misty-grey one which the King's daught=
er
usually wore, they said, "Let the mantle be embroidered with gold and
silver, and then it will be your wedding-mantle.
Once
on a time a mouse, a bird, and a sausage became companions, kept house
together, lived well and happily with each other, and wonderfully increased
their possessions. The bird's work was to fly every day into the forest and
bring back wood. The mouse had to carry water, light the fire, and lay the
table, but the sausage had to cook.
He who
is too well off is always longing for something new. One day, therefore, the
bird met with another bird, on the way, to whom it related its excellent
circumstances and boasted of them. The other bird, however, called it a poor
simpleton for his hard work, but said that the two at home had good times. =
For
when the mouse had made her fire and carried her water, she went into her
little room to rest until they called her to lay the table. The sausage sta=
yed
by the pot, saw that the food was cooking well, and, when it was nearly time
for dinner, it rolled itself once or twice through the broth or vegetables =
and
then they were buttered, salted, and ready. When the bird came home and laid
his burden down, they sat down to dinner, and after they had had their meal,
they slept their fill till next morning, and that was a splendid life.
Next
day the bird, prompted by the other bird, would go no more into the wood,
saying that he had been servant long enough, and had been made a fool of by
them, and that they must change about for once, and try to arrange it in
another way. And, though the mouse and the sausage also begged most earnest=
ly,
the bird would have his way, and said it must be tried. They cast lots about
it, and the lot fell on the sausage who was to carry wood, the mouse became
cook, and the bird was to fetch water.
What
happened? The little sausage went out towards the wood, the little bird lig=
hted
the fire, the mouse stayed by the pot and waited alone until little sausage
came home and brought wood for next day. But the little sausage stayed so l=
ong
on the road that they both feared something was amiss, and the bird flew ou=
t a
little way in the air to meet it. Not far off, however, it met a dog on the
road who had fallen on the poor sausage as lawful booty, and had seized and
swallowed it. The bird charge=
d the
dog with an act of barefaced robbery, but it was in vain to speak, for the =
dog
said he had found forged letters on the sausage, on which account its life =
was
forfeited to him.
The
bird sadly took up the wood, flew home, and related what he had seen and he=
ard.
They were much troubled, but agreed to do their best and remain together. T=
he
bird therefore laid the cloth, and the mouse made ready the food, and wante=
d to
dress it, and to get into the pot as the sausage used to do, and roll and c=
reep
amongst the vegetables to mix them; but before she got into the midst of th=
em
she was stopped, and lost her skin and hair and life in the attempt.
When
the bird came to carry up the dinner, no cook was there. In its distress the
bird threw the wood here and there, called and searched, but no cook was to=
be
found! Owing to his carelessness the wood caught fire, so that a conflagrat=
ion
ensued, the bird hastened to fetch water, and then the bucket dropped from =
his
claws into the well, and he fell down with it, and could not recover himsel=
f,
but had to drown there.
There
was once a widow who had two daughters---one of whom was pretty and
industrious, whilst the other was ugly and idle. But she was much fonder of=
the
ugly and idle one, because she was her own daughter; and the other, who was=
a
step-daughter, was obliged to do all the work, and be the Cinderella of the
house. Every day the poor girl had to sit by a well, in the highway, and sp=
in
and spin till her fingers bled.
Now it
happened that one day the shuttle was marked with her blood, so she dipped =
it
in the well, to wash the mark off; but it dropped out of her hand and fell =
to
the bottom. She began to weep, and ran to her step-mother and told her of t=
he
mishap. But she scolded her sharply, and was so merciless as to say,
"Since you have let the shuttle fall in, you must fetch it out
again."
So the
girl went back to the well, and did not know what to do; and in the sorrow =
of
her heart she jumped into the well to get the shuttle. She lost her senses;=
and
when she awoke and came to herself again, she was in a lovely meadow where =
the
sun was shining and many thousands of flowers were growing. Along this mead=
ow
she went, and at last came to a baker's oven full of bread, and the bread c=
ried
out, "Oh, take me out! take me out! or I shall burn; I have been baked=
a
long time!" So she went up to it, and took out all the loaves one after
another with the bread-shovel. After that she went on till she came to a tr=
ee
covered with apples, which called out to her, "Oh, shake me! shake me!=
we
apples are all ripe!" So she shook the tree till the apples fell like
rain, and went on shaking till they were all down, and when she had gathere=
d them
into a heap, she went on her way.
At
last she came to a little house, out of which an old woman peeped; but she =
had
such large teeth that the girl was frightened, and was about to run away.
But
the old woman called out to her, "What are you afraid of, dear child? =
Stay
with me; if you will do all the work in the house properly, you shall be the
better for it. Only you must take care to make my bed well, and shake it
thoroughly till the feathers fly---for then there is snow on the earth. I am
Mother Holle.
As the
old woman spoke so kindly to her, the girl took courage and agreed to enter=
her
service. She attended to everything to the satisfaction of her mistress, and
always shook her bed so vigorously that the feathers flew about like
snow-flakes. So she had a pleasant life with her; never an angry word; and
boiled or roast meat every day.
She
stayed some time with Mother Holle, and then she became sad. At first she d=
id
not know what was the matter with her, but found at length that it was
home-sickness: although she was many thousand times better off here than at
home, still she had a longing to be there. At last she said to the old woma=
n,
"I have a longing for home; and however well off I am down here, I can=
not
stay any longer; I must go up again to my own people." Mother Holle sa=
id,
"I am pleased that you long for your home again, and as you have serve=
d me
so truly, I myself will take you up again." Thereupon she took her by =
the
hand, and led her to a large door. The door was opened, and just as the mai=
den
was standing beneath the doorway, a heavy shower of golden rain fell, and a=
ll
the gold remained sticking to her, so that she was completely covered over =
with
it.
"You
shall have that because you have been so industrious," said Mother Hol=
le,
and at the same time she gave her back the shuttle which she had let fall i=
nto
the well. Thereupon the door closed, and the maiden found herself up above =
upon
the earth, not far from her mother's house.
And as
she went into the yard the cock was standing by the well-side, and cried---=
"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Your golden girl's come back to
you!"
So she
went in to her mother, and as she arrived thus covered with gold, she was w=
ell
received, both by her and her sister.
The
girl told all that had happened to her; and as soon as the mother heard how=
she
had come by so much wealth, she was very anxious to obtain the same good lu=
ck
for the ugly and lazy daughter. She had to seat herself by the well and spi=
n;
and in order that her shuttle might be stained with blood, she stuck her ha=
nd
into a thorn bush and pricked her finger. Then she threw her shuttle into t=
he
well, and jumped in after it.
She came,
like the other, to the beautiful meadow and walked along the very same path.
When she got to the oven the bread again cried, "Oh, take me out! take me out! or I shall burn; I ha=
ve
been baked a long time!" But the lazy thing answered, "As if I had
any wish to make myself dirty?" and on she went. Soon she came to the
apple-tree, which cried, "Oh, shake me! shake me! we apples are all
ripe!" But she answered, "I like that! one of you might fall on my
head," and so went on.
When
she came to Mother Holle's house she was not afraid, for she had already he=
ard
of her big teeth, and she hired herself to her immediately.
The
first day she forced herself to work diligently, and obeyed Mother Holle wh=
en
she told her to do anything, for she was thinking of all the gold that she
would give her. But on the second day she began to be lazy, and on the third
day still more so, and then she would not get up in the morning at all. Nei=
ther
did she make Mother Holle's bed as she ought, and did not shake it so as to
make the feathers fly up. Mother Holle was soon tired of this, and gave her
notice to leave. The lazy gir=
l was
willing enough to go, and thought that now the golden rain would come. Moth=
er
Holle led her also to the great door; but while she was standing beneath it,
instead of the gold a big kettleful of pitch was emptied over her. "Th=
at
is the reward for your service," said Mother Holle, and shut the door.=
So the
lazy girl went home; but she was quite covered with pitch, and the cock by =
the
well-side, as soon as he saw her, cried out---
"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Your pitchy girl's come back to
you!"
But
the pitch stuck fast to her, and could not be got off as long as she lived.=
There
was once a man who had seven sons, and still he had no daughter, however mu=
ch
he wished for one. At length his wife again gave him hope of a child, and w=
hen
it came into the world it was a girl. The joy was great, but the child was
sickly and small, and had to be privately baptized on account of its weakne=
ss.
The father sent one of the boys in haste to the spring to fetch water for t=
he
baptism. The other six went with him, and as each of them wanted to be firs=
t to
fill it, the jug fell into the well. There they stood and did not know what=
to
do, and none of them dared to go home. As they still did not return, the fa=
ther
grew impatient, and said, "They have certainly forgotten it for some g=
ame,
the wicked boys!" He became afraid that the girl would have to die wit=
hout
being baptized, and in his anger cried, "I wish the boys were all turn=
ed
into ravens." Hardly was=
the
word spoken before he heard a whirring of wings over his head in the air,
looked up and saw seven coal-black ravens flying away. The parents could not
recall the curse, and however sad they were at the loss of their seven sons,
they still to some extent comforted themselves with their dear little daugh=
ter,
who soon grew strong and every day became more beautiful. For a long time s=
he
did not know that she had had brothers, for her parents were careful not to
mention them before her, but one day she accidentally heard some people say=
ing
of herself, "that the girl was certainly beautiful, but that in reality
she was to blame for the misfortune which had befallen her seven
brothers." Then she was =
much
troubled, and went to her father and mother and asked if it was true that s=
he
had had brothers, and what had become of them? The parents now dared keep t=
he
secret no longer, but said that what had befallen her brothers was the will=
of
Heaven, and that her birth had only been the innocent cause. But the maiden=
took
it to heart daily, and thought she must deliver her brothers. She had no re=
st
or peace until she set out secretly, and went forth into the wide world to
trace out her brothers and set them free, let it cost what it might. She to=
ok
nothing with her but a little ring belonging to her parents as a keepsake, a
loaf of bread against hunger, a little pitcher of water against thirst, and=
a
little chair as a provision against weariness.
And
now she went continually onwards, far, far to the very end of the world.
and
devoured little children. Hastily she ran away, and ran to the moon, but it=
was
far too cold, and also awful and malicious, and when it saw the child, it s=
aid,
"I smell, I smell the flesh of men." On this she ran swiftly away,
and came to the stars, which were kind and good to her, and each of them sa=
t on
its own particular little chair. But the morning star arose, and gave her t=
he
drumstick of a chicken, and said, "If you thou hast not that drumstick
thou canst not open the Glass mountain, and in the Glass mountain are thy
brothers."
The
maiden took the drumstick, wrapped it carefully in a cloth, and went onwards
again until she came to the Glass mountain. The door was shut, and she thou=
ght
she would take out the drumstick; but when she undid the cloth, it was empt=
y,
and she had lost the good star's present. What was she now to do? She wishe=
d to
rescue her brothers, and had no key to the Glass mountain. The good sister =
took
a knife, cut off one of her little fingers, put it in the door, and succeed=
ed
in opening it. When she had gone inside, a little dwarf came to meet her, w=
ho
said, "My child, what are you looking for?" "I am looking fo=
r my
brothers, the seven ravens," she replied. The dwarf said, "The lo=
rd
ravens are not at home, but if you will wait here until they come, step
in." Thereupon the little dwarf carried the ravens' dinner in, on seven
little plates, and in seven little glasses, and the little sister ate a mor=
sel
from each plate, and from each little glass she took a sip, but in the last
little glass she dropped the ring which she had brought away with her.
Suddenly
she heard a whirring of wings and a rushing through the air, and then the
little dwarf said, "Now the lord ravens are flying home." Then th=
ey
came, and wanted to eat and drink, and looked for their little plates and
glasses. Then said one after the other, "Who has eaten something from =
my
plate? Who has drunk out of my little glass? It was a human mouth." And
when the seventh came to the bottom of the glass, the ring rolled against h=
is
mouth. Then he looked at it, and saw that it was a ring belonging to his fa=
ther
and mother, and said, "God grant that our sister may be here, and then=
we
shall be free." When the maiden, who was standing behind the door
watching, heard that wish, she came forth, and on this all the ravens were
restored to their human form again. And they embraced and kissed each other,
and went joyfully home.
Once
upon a time there was a dear little girl who was loved by every one who loo=
ked
at her, but most of all by her grandmother, and there was nothing that she
would not have given to the child. Once she gave her a little cap of red ve=
lvet,
which suited her so well that she would never wear anything else; so she was
always called "Little Red-Cap."
One
day her mother said to her, "Come, Little Red-Cap, here is a piece of =
cake
and a bottle of wine; take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak, a=
nd
they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, =
walk
nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break t=
he
bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing; and when you go into her
room, don't forget to say, 'Good-morning,' and don't peep into every corner
before you do it."
"I
will take great care," said Little Red-Cap to her mother, and gave her
hand on it.
The
grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village, and just=
as
Little Red-Cap entered the wood, a wolf met her. Red-Cap did not know what a
wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.
"Good-day,
Little Red-Cap," said he.
"Thank
you kindly, wolf."
"Whither
away so early, Little Red-Cap?"
"To
my grandmother's."
"What
have you got in your apron?"
"Cake
and wine; yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is to have
something good, to make her stronger."
"Where
does your grandmother live, Little Red-Cap?"
"A
good quarter of a league farther on in the wood; her house stands under the
three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below; you surely must know
it," replied Little Red-Cap.
The
wolf thought to himself, "What a tender young creature! what a nice pl=
ump
mouthful---she will be better to eat than the old woman. I must act craftil=
y,
so as to catch both." So he walked for a short time by the side of Lit=
tle
Red-Cap, and then he said, "See Little Red-Cap, how pretty the flowers=
are
about here---why do you not look round? I believe, too, that you do not hear
how sweetly the little birds are singing; you walk gravely along as if you =
were
going to school, while everything else out here in the wood is merry."=
Little
Red-Cap raised her eyes, and when she saw the sunbeams dancing here and the=
re
through the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere, she thought,
"Suppose I take grandmother a fresh nosegay; that would please her too=
. It
is so early in the day that I shall still get there in good time;" and=
so
she ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers. And whenever she h=
ad
picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier one farther on, and r=
an
after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.
Meanwhile
the wolf ran straight to the grandmother's house and knocked at the door.
"Who
is there?"
"Little
Red-Cap," replied the wolf. "She is bringing cake and wine; open =
the
door."
"Lift
the latch," called out the grandmother, "I am too weak, and canno=
t get
up."
The
wolf lifted the latch, the door flew open, and without saying a word he went
straight to the grandmother's bed, and devoured her. Then he put on her
clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed and drew the curta=
ins.
Little
Red-Cap, however, had been running about picking flowers, and when she had =
gathered
so many that she could carry no more, she remembered her grandmother, and s=
et
out on the way to her.
She
was surprised to find the cottage-door standing open, and when she went into
the room, she had such a strange feeling that she said to herself, "Oh
dear! how uneasy I feel to-da=
y, and
at other times I like being with grandmother so much." She called out,
"Good morning," but received no answer; so she went to the bed and
drew back the curtains. There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled far o=
ver
her face, and looking very strange.
"Oh!
grandmother," she said, "what big ears you have!"
"The
better to hear you with, my child," was the reply.
"But,
grandmother, what big eyes you have!" she said.
"The
better to see you with, my dear."
"But,
grandmother, what large hands you have!"
"The
better to hug you with."
"Oh!
but, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have!"
"The
better to eat you with!"
And
scarcely had the wolf said this, than with one bound he was out of bed and
swallowed up Red-Cap.
When
the wolf had appeased his appetite, he lay down again in the bed, fell asle=
ep
and began to snore very loud. The huntsman was just passing the house, and
thought to himself, "How the old woman is snoring! I must just see if =
she
wants anything." So he went into the room, and when he came to the bed=
, he
saw that the wolf was lying in it. "Do I find thee here, thou old
sinner!" said he. "I have long sought thee!" Then just as he=
was
going to fire at him, it occurred to him that the wolf might have devoured =
the
grandmother, and that she might still be saved, so he did not fire, but too=
k a
pair of scissors, and began to cut open the stomach of the sleeping wolf. W=
hen
he had made two snips, he saw the little Red-Cap shining, and then he made =
two
snips more, and the little girl sprang out, crying, "Ah, how frightene=
d I
have been! How dark it was inside the wolf;" and after that the aged
grandmother came out alive also, but scarcely able to breathe. Red-Cap, however, quickly fetched =
great
stones with which they filled the wolf's body, and when he awoke, he wanted=
to
run away, but the stones were so heavy that he fell down at once, and fell
dead.
Then
all three were delighted. The huntsman drew off the wolf's skin and went ho=
me
with it; the grandmother ate the cake and drank the wine which Red-Cap had
brought, and revived, but Red-Cap thought to herself, "As long as I li=
ve,
I will never by myself leave the path, to run into the wood, when my mother=
has
forbidden me to do so."
=
&nb=
sp;
* * * * * * *
It is
also related that once when Red-Cap was again taking cakes to the old
grandmother, another wolf spoke to her, and tried to entice her from the
path. Red-Cap, however, was o=
n her
guard, and went straight forward on her way, and told her grandmother that =
she
had met the wolf, and that he had said "good-morning" to her, but
with such a wicked look in his eyes, that if they had not been on the public
road she was certain he would have eaten her up. "Well," said the
grandmother, "we will shut the door, that he may not come in." So=
on
afterwards the wolf knocked, and cried, "Open the door, grandmother, I=
am
little Red-Cap, and am fetching you some cakes." But they did not spea=
k,
or open the door, so the grey-beard stole twice or thrice round the house, =
and
at last jumped on the roof, intending to wait until Red-Cap went home in the
evening, and then to steal after her and devour her in the darkness. But th=
e grandmother
saw what was in his thoughts. In front of the house was a great stone troug=
h,
so she said to the child, "Take the pail, Red-Cap; I made some sausages
yesterday, so carry the water in which I boiled them to the trough." Red-Cap carried until the great tr=
ough
was quite full. Then the smell of the sausages reached the wolf, and he sni=
ffed
and peeped down, and at last stretched out his neck so far that he could no
longer keep his footing and began to slip, and slipped down from the roof
straight into the great trough, and was drowned. But Red-Cap went joyously
home, and never did anything to harm any one.
A
certain man had a donkey, which had carried the corn-sacks to the mill
indefatigably for many a long year; but his strength was going, and he was
growing more and more unfit for work. Then his master began to consider how=
he
might best save his keep; but the donkey, seeing that no good wind was blow=
ing,
ran away and set out on the road to Bremen. "There," he thought,
"I can surely be town-musician." When he had walked some distance=
, he
found a hound lying on the road, gasping like one who had run till he was
tired. "What are you gasping so for, you big fellow?" asked the
donkey.
"Ah,"
replied the hound, "as I am old, and daily grow weaker, and no longer =
can
hunt, my master wanted to kill me, so I took to flight; but now how am I to
earn my bread?"
"I
tell you what," said the donkey, "I am going to Bremen, and shall=
be town-musician
there; go with me and engage yourself also as a musician. I will play the l=
ute,
and you shall beat the kettledrum."
The hound
agreed, and on they went.
Before
long they came to a cat, sitting on the path, with a face like three rainy
days! "Now then, old shaver, what has gone askew with you?" asked=
the
donkey.
"Who
can be merry when his neck is in danger?" answered the cat. "Beca=
use I
am now getting old, and my teeth are worn to stumps, and I prefer to sit by=
the
fire and spin, rather than hunt about after mice, my mistress wanted to dro=
wn
me, so I ran away. But now good advice is scarce. Where am I to go?"
"Go
with us to Bremen. You understand night-music, you can be a town-musician.&=
quot;
The
cat thought well of it, and went with them. After this the three fugitives =
came
to a farm-yard, where the cock was sitting upon the gate, crowing with all =
his
might. "Your crow goes through and through one," said the donkey.
"What is the matter?"
"I
have been foretelling fine weather, because it is the day on which Our Lady
washes the Christ-child's little shirts, and wants to dry them," said =
the
cock; "but guests are coming for Sunday, so the housewife has no pity,=
and
has told the cook that she intends to eat me in the soup to-morrow, and this
evening I am to have my head cut off. Now I am crowing at full pitch while I
can."
"Ah,
but red-comb," said the donkey, "you had better come away with us=
. We
are going to Bremen; you can find something better than death everywhere: y=
ou
have a good voice, and if we make music together it must have some
quality!"
The
cock agreed to this plan, and all four went on together. They could not,
however, reach the city of Bremen in one day, and in the evening they came =
to a
forest where they meant to pass the night. The donkey and the hound laid
themselves down under a large tree, the cat and the cock settled themselves=
in
the branches; but the cock flew right to the top, where he was most safe.
Before he went to sleep he looked round on all four sides, and thought he s=
aw
in the distance a little spark burning; so he called out to his companions =
that
there must be a house not far off, for he saw a light. The donkey said,
"If so, we had better get up and go on, for the shelter here is bad.&q=
uot;
The hound thought that a few bones with some meat on would do him good too!=
So
they made their way to the place where the light was, and soon saw it shine
brighter and grow larger, until they came to a well-lighted robber's house.=
The
donkey, as the biggest, went to the window and looked in.
"What
do you see, my grey-horse?" asked the cock. "What do I see?"
answered the donkey; "a table covered with good things to eat and drin=
k,
and robbers sitting at it enjoying themselves." "That would be the
sort of thing for us," said the cock. "Yes, yes; ah, how I wish w=
e were
there!" said the donkey.
Then
the animals took counsel together how they should manage to drive away the =
robbers,
and at last they thought of a plan. The donkey was to place himself with his
fore-feet upon the window-ledge, the hound was to jump on the donkey's back,
the cat was to climb upon the dog, and lastly the cock was to fly up and pe=
rch
upon the head of the cat.
When
this was done, at a given signal, they began to perform their music togethe=
r:
the donkey brayed, the hound barked, the cat mewed, and the cock crowed; th=
en
they burst through the window into the room, so that the glass clattered! At
this horrible din, the robbers sprang up, thinking no otherwise than that a
ghost had come in, and fled in a great fright out into the forest. The four
companions now sat down at the table, well content with what was left, and =
ate
as if they were going to fast for a month.
As
soon as the four minstrels had done, they put out the light, and each sought
for himself a sleeping-place according to his nature and to what suited him.
The donkey laid himself down upon some straw in the yard, the hound behind =
the
door, the cat upon the hearth near the warm ashes, and the cock perched him=
self
upon a beam of the roof; and being tired from their long walk, they soon we=
nt
to sleep.
When
it was past midnight, and the robbers saw from afar that the light was no
longer burning in their house, and all appeared quiet, the captain said,
"We ought not to have let ourselves be frightened out of our wits;&quo=
t; and
ordered one of them to go and examine the house.
The
messenger finding all still, went into the kitchen to light a candle, and, =
taking
the glistening fiery eyes of the cat for live coals, he held a lucifer-matc=
h to
them to light it. But the cat did not understand the joke, and flew in his
face, spitting and scratching. He was dreadfully frightened, and ran to the
back-door, but the dog, who lay there sprang up and bit his leg; and as he =
ran
across the yard by the straw-heap, the donkey gave him a smart kick with its
hind foot. The cock, too, who had been awakened by the noise, and had become
lively, cried down from the beam, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"
Then
the robber ran back as fast as he could to his captain, and said, "Ah,
there is a horrible witch sitting in the house, who spat on me and scratche=
d my
face with her long claws; and by the door stands a man with a knife, who
stabbed me in the leg; and in the yard there lies a black monster, who beat=
me
with a wooden club; and above, upon the roof, sits the judge, who called ou=
t,
'Bring the rogue here to me!' so I got away as well as I could."
After
this the robbers did not trust themselves in the house again; but it suited=
the
four musicians of Bremen so well that they did not care to leave it any mor=
e.
And the mouth of him who last told this story is still warm.
In a
certain country there was once great lamentation over a wild boar that laid
waste the farmer's fields, killed the cattle, and ripped up people's bodies
with his tusks. The King promised a large reward to anyone who would free t=
he
land from this plague; but the beast was so big and strong that no one dare=
d to
go near the forest in which it lived. At last the King gave notice that
whosoever should capture or kill the wild boar should have his only daughte=
r to
wife.
Now
there lived in the country two brothers, sons of a poor man, who declared
themselves willing to undertake the hazardous enterprise; the elder, who was
crafty and shrewd, out of pride; the younger, who was innocent and simple, =
from
a kind heart. The King said, "In order that you may be the more sure of
finding the beast, you must go into the forest from opposite sides." So
the elder went in on the west side, and the younger on the east.
When
the younger had gone a short way, a little man stepped up to him. He held in
his hand a black spear and said, "I give you this spear because your h=
eart
is pure and good; with this you can boldly attack the wild boar, and it wil=
l do
you no harm."
He
thanked the little man, shouldered the spear, and went on fearlessly.
Before
long he saw the beast, which rushed at him; but he held the spear towards i=
t,
and in its blind fury it ran so swiftly against it that its heart was clove=
n in
twain. Then he took the monster on his back and went homewards with it to t=
he
King.
As he
came out at the other side of the wood, there stood at the entrance a house
where people were making merry with wine and dancing. His elder brother had
gone in here, and, thinking that after all the boar would not run away from
him, was going to drink until he felt brave. But when he saw his young brot=
her
coming out of the wood laden with his booty, his envious, evil heart gave h=
im
no peace. He called out to him, "Come in, dear brother, rest and refre=
sh
yourself with a cup of wine."
The
youth, who suspected no evil, went in and told him about the good little man
who had given him the spear wherewith he had slain the boar.
The
elder brother kept him there until the evening, and then they went away
together, and when in the darkness they came to a bridge over a brook, the
elder brother let the other go first; and when he was half-way across he ga=
ve
him such a blow from behind that he fell down dead. He buried him beneath t=
he
bridge, took the boar, and carried it to the King, pretending that he had
killed it; whereupon he obtained the King's daughter in marriage. And when =
his
younger brother did not come back he said, "The boar must have killed
him," and every one believed it.
But as
nothing remains hidden from God, so this black deed also was to come to lig=
ht.
Years
afterwards a shepherd was driving his herd across the bridge, and saw lying=
in the
sand beneath, a snow-white little bone. He thought that it would make a good
mouth-piece, so he clambered down, picked it up, and cut out of it a
mouth-piece for his horn. But when he blew through it for the first time, to
his great astonishment, the bone began of its own accord to sing:
"Ah, friend, thou blowest upon=
my
bone! Long have I lain beside=
the
water; My brother slew me for=
the
boar, And took for his wife t=
he
King's young daughter."
"What
a wonderful horn!" said the shepherd; "it sings by itself; I must=
take
it to my lord the King." And when he came with it to the King the horn
again began to sing its little song. The King understood it all, and caused=
the
ground below the bridge to be dug up, and then the whole skeleton of the
murdered man came to light. The wicked brother could not deny the deed, and=
was
sewn up in a sack and drowned. But the bones of the murdered man were laid =
to
rest in a beautiful tomb in the churchyard.
There
was once a poor woman who gave birth to a little son; and as he came into t=
he
world with a caul on, it was predicted that in his fourteenth year he would
have the King's daughter for his wife. It happened that soon afterwards the
King came into the village, and no one knew that he was the King, and when =
he
asked the people what news there was, they answered, "A child has just
been born with a caul on; whatever any one so born undertakes turns out wel=
l.
It is prophesied, too, that in his fourteenth year he will have the King's
daughter for his wife."
The
King, who had a bad heart, and was angry about the prophecy, went to the
parents, and, seeming quite friendly, said, "You poor people, let me h=
ave
your child, and I will take care of it." At first they refused, but wh=
en the
stranger offered them a large amount of gold for it, and they thought, &quo=
t;It
is a luck-child, and everything must turn out well for it," they at la=
st
consented, and gave him the child.
The
King put it in a box and rode away with it until he came to a deep piece of
water; then he threw the box into it and thought, "I have freed my
daughter from her unlooked-for suitor."
The
box, however, did not sink, but floated like a boat, and not a drop of water
made its way into it. And it floated to within two miles of the King's chief
city, where there was a mill, and it came to a stand-still at the mill-dam.=
A
miller's boy, who by good luck was standing there, noticed it and pulled it=
out
with a hook, thinking that he had found a great treasure, but when he opene=
d it
there lay a pretty boy inside, quite fresh and lively. He took him to the
miller and his wife, and as they had no children they were glad, and said,
"God has given him to us." They took great care of the foundling,=
and
he grew up in all goodness.
It happened
that once in a storm, the King went into the mill, and he asked the mill-fo=
lk
if the tall youth was their son. "No," answered they, "he's a
foundling. Fourteen years ago=
he
floated down to the mill-dam in a box, and the mill-boy pulled him out of t=
he
water."
Then
the King knew that it was none other than the luck-child which he had thrown
into the water, and he said, "My good people, could not the youth take=
a
letter to the Queen; I will give him two gold pieces as a reward?"
"Just as the King commands," answered they, and they told the boy=
to
hold himself in readiness. Then the King wrote a letter to the Queen, where=
in
he said, "As soon as the boy arrives with this letter, let him be kill=
ed
and buried, and all must be done before I come home."
The
boy set out with this letter; but he lost his way, and in the evening came =
to a
large forest. In the darkness he saw a small light; he went towards it and
reached a cottage. When he went in, an old woman was sitting by the fire qu=
ite
alone. She started when she s=
aw the
boy, and said, "Whence do you come, and whither are you going?"
"I come from the mill," he answered, "and wish to go to the
Queen, to whom I am taking a letter; but as I have lost my way in the fores=
t I
should like to stay here over night." "You poor boy," said t=
he
woman, "you have come into a den of thieves, and when they come home t=
hey
will kill you." "Let them come," said the boy, "I am not
afraid; but I am so tired that I cannot go any farther:" and he stretc=
hed
himself upon a bench and fell asleep.
Soon
afterwards the robbers came, and angrily asked what strange boy was lying
there? "Ah," said the old woman, "it is an innocent child who
has lost himself in the forest, and out of pity I have let him come in; he =
has to
take a letter to the Queen." The robbers opened the letter and read it=
, and
in it was written that the boy as soon as he arrived should be put to death.
Then the hard-hearted robbers felt pity, and their leader tore up the letter
and wrote another, saying, that as soon as the boy came, he should be marri=
ed
at once to the King's daughter. Then they let him lie quietly on the bench
until the next morning, and when he awoke they gave him the letter, and sho=
wed
him the right way.
And
the Queen, when she had received the letter and read it, did as was written=
in
it, and had a splendid wedding-feast prepared, and the King's daughter was
married to the luck-child, and as the youth was handsome and agreeable she
lived with him in joy and contentment.
After
some time the King returned to his palace and saw that the prophecy was
fulfilled, and the luck-child married to his daughter. "How has that c=
ome
to pass?" said he; "I gave quite another order in my letter."=
;
So the
Queen gave him the letter, and said that he might see for himself what was
written in it. The King read the letter and saw quite well that it had been
exchanged for the other. He asked the youth what had become of the letter
entrusted to him, and why he had brought another instead of it. "I know
nothing about it," answered he; "it must have been changed in the
night, when I slept in the forest." The King said in a passion, "=
You
shall not have everything quite so much your own way; whosoever marries my
daughter must fetch me from hell three golden hairs from the head of the de=
vil;
bring me what I want, and you shall keep my daughter." In this way the
King hoped to be rid of him for ever. But the luck-child answered, "I =
will
fetch the golden hairs, I am not afraid of the Devil;" thereupon he to=
ok
leave of them and began his journey.
The
road led him to a large town, where the watchman by the gates asked him what
his trade was, and what he knew. "I know everything," answered the
luck-child. "Then you can do us a favour," said the watchman,
"if you will tell us why our market-fountain, which once flowed with w=
ine has
become dry, and no longer gives even water?" "That you shall
know," answered he; "only wait until I come back."
Then
he went farther and came to another town, and there also the gatekeeper ask=
ed
him what was his trade, and what he knew. "I know everything,"
answered he. "Then you can do us a favour and tell us why a tree in our
town which once bore golden apples now does not even put forth leaves?"
"You shall know that," answered he; "only wait until I come
back."
Then
he went on and came to a wide river over which he must go. The ferryman ask=
ed
him what his trade was, and what he knew. "I know everything,"
answered he. "Then you can do me a favour," said the ferryman,
"and tell me why I must always be rowing backwards and forwards, and am
never set free?" "Y=
ou
shall know that," answered he; "only wait until I come back."=
;
When
he had crossed the water he found the entrance to Hell. It was black and so=
oty
within, and the Devil was not at home, but his grandmother was sitting in a
large arm-chair. "What do you want?" said she to him, but she did=
not
look so very wicked. "I should like to have three golden hairs from the
devil's head," answered he, "else I cannot keep my wife."
"That is a good deal to ask for," said she; "if the devil co=
mes
home and finds you, it will cost you your life; but as I pity you, I will s=
ee
if I cannot help you."
She
changed him into an ant and said, "Creep into the folds of my dress, y=
ou
will be safe there." "Yes," answered he, "so far, so go=
od; but
there are three things besides that I want to know: why a fountain which on=
ce
flowed with wine has become dry, and no longer gives even water; why a tree
which once bore golden apples does not even put forth leaves; and why a
ferry-man must always be going backwards and forwards, and is never set
free?"
"Those
are difficult questions," answered she, "but only be silent and q=
uiet
and pay attention to what the devil says when I pull out the three golden
hairs."
As the
evening came on, the devil returned home. No sooner had he entered than he
noticed that the air was not pure. "I smell man's flesh," said he=
; "all
is not right here." Then he pried into every corner, and searched, but
could not find anything. His grandmother scolded him. "It has just been
swept," said she, "and everything put in order, and now you are u=
psetting
it again; you have always got man's flesh in your nose. Sit down and eat yo=
ur
supper."
When
he had eaten and drunk he was tired, and laid his head in his grandmother's
lap, and before long he was fast asleep, snoring and breathing heavily. Then
the old woman took hold of a golden hair, pulled it out, and laid it down n=
ear
her. "Oh!" cried the devil, "what are you doing?" "=
;I
have had a bad dream," answered the grandmother, "so I seized hol=
d of
your hair." "What did you dream then?" said the devil. "=
;I
dreamed that a fountain in a market-place from which wine once flowed was d=
ried
up, and not even water would flow out of it; what is the cause of it?"
"Oh, ho! if they did but know it," answered the devil; "ther=
e is
a toad sitting under a stone in the well; if they killed it, the wine would
flow again."
He
went to sleep again and snored until the windows shook. Then she pulled the
second hair out. "Ha! what are you doing?" cried the devil angril=
y.
"Do not take it ill," said she, "I did it in a dream."
"What have you dreamt this time?" asked he. "I dreamt that in a certain k=
ingdom
there stood an apple-tree which had once borne golden apples, but now would=
not
even bear leaves. What, think you, was the reason?" "Oh! if they =
did
but know," answered the devil. "A mouse is gnawing at the root; if
they killed this they would have golden apples again, but if it gnaws much
longer the tree will wither altogether. But leave me alone with your dreams=
: if
you disturb me in my sleep again you will get a box on the ear."
The grandmother spoke gently to him until he fell asleep again and snored. Then= she took hold of the third golden hair and pulled it out. The devil jumped up, roared out, and would have treated her ill if she had not quieted him once = more and said, "Who can help bad dreams?" "What was the dream, then?" asked he, and was quite curious. "I dreamt of a ferry-man = who complained that he must always ferry from one side to the other, and was ne= ver released. What is the cause of it?" "Ah! the fool," answered= the devil; "when any one comes and wants to go across he must put the oar = in his hand, and the other man will have to ferry and he will be free." As the grandmother had plucked out the three golden hairs, and the three quest= ions were answered, she let the old serpent alone, and he slept until daybreak.<= o:p>
When
the devil had gone out again the old woman took the ant out of the folds of=
her
dress, and gave the luck-child his human shape again. "There are the t=
hree
golden hairs for you," said she. "What the Devil said to your thr=
ee
questions, I suppose you heard?" "Yes," answered he, "I
heard, and will take care to remember." "You have what you
want," said she, "and now you can go your way." He thanked t=
he
old woman for helping him in his need, and left hell well content that
everything had turned out so fortunately.
When
he came to the ferry-man he was expected to give the promised answer. "=
;Ferry
me across first," said the luck-child, "and then I will tell you =
how
you can be set free," and when he reached the opposite shore he gave h=
im
the devil's advice: "Next time any one comes, who wants to be ferried
over, just put the oar in his hand."
He
went on and came to the town wherein stood the unfruitful tree, and there t=
oo
the watchman wanted an answer. So he told him what he had heard from the de=
vil:
"Kill the mouse which is gnawing at its root, and it will again bear
golden apples." Then the watchman thanked him, and gave him as a reward
two asses laden with gold, which followed him.
At
last he came to the town whose well was dry. He told the watchman what the
devil had said: "A toad is in the well beneath a stone; you must find =
it
and kill it, and the well will again give wine in plenty." The watchman
thanked him, and also gave him two asses laden with gold.
At
last the luck-child got home to his wife, who was heartily glad to see him
again, and to hear how well he had prospered in everything. To the King he =
took
what he had asked for, the devil's three golden hairs, and when the King saw
the four asses laden with gold he was quite content, and said, "Now all
the conditions are fulfilled, and you can keep my daughter. But tell me, de=
ar
son-in-law, where did all that gold come from? this is tremendous wealth!&q=
uot;
"I was rowed across a river," answered he, "and got it there=
; it
lies on the shore instead of sand." "Can I too fetch some of
it?" said the King; and he was quite eager about it. "As much as =
you
like," answered he. "There is a ferry-man on the river; let him f=
erry
you over, and you can fill your sacks on the other side." The greedy K=
ing
set out in all haste, and when he came to the river he beckoned to the
ferry-man to put him across. The ferry-man came and bade him get in, and wh=
en
they got to the other shore he put the oar in his hand and sprang out. But =
from
this time forth the King had to ferry, as a punishment for his sins. Perhap=
s he
is ferrying still? If he is, it is because no one has taken the oar from hi=
m.
A
louse and a flea kept house together and were brewing beer in an egg-shell.=
Then the little louse fell in and =
burnt
herself. On this the little flea began to scream loudly. Then said the litt=
le
room-door, "Little flea, why art thou screaming?" "Because the louse has burnt =
herself."
Then
the little door began to creak. On this a little broom in the corner said,
"Why art thou creaking, little door?" "Have I not reason to
creak?"
"The little louse has burnt he=
rself,
The little flea is weeping.&q=
uot;
So the
little broom began to sweep frantically. Then a little cart passed by and s=
aid,
"Why art thou sweeping, little broom?" "Have I not reason to
sweep?"
"The little louse has burnt he=
rself,
The little flea is weeping,
The little door is creaking."<= o:p>
So the
little cart said, "Then I will run," and began to run wildly. The=
n said
the ash-heap by which it ran, "Why art thou running so, little cart?&q=
uot;
"Have I not reason to run?"
"The little louse has burnt he=
rself,
The little flea is weeping,
The little door is creaking, The little broom is sweeping."=
The
ash-heap said, "Then I will burn furiously," and began to burn in=
clear
flames. A little tree stood near the ash-heap and said, "Ash-heap, why=
art
thou burning?" "Have I not reason to burn?"
"The little louse has burnt he=
rself,
The little flea is weeping,
The little door is creaking, The little broom is sweeping,
The little cart is running."
The
little tree said, "Then I will shake myself," and began to shake =
herself
so that all her leaves fell off; a girl who came up with her water-pitcher =
saw
that, and said, "Little tree, why art thou shaking thyself?"
"Have I not reason to shake myself?"
"The little louse has burnt he=
rself,
The little flea is weeping,
The little door is creaking, The little broom is sweeping,
The little cart is running, The little ash-heap is burning.&quo=
t;
&n=
bsp;
On this the girl said, "Then I will break my little
water-pitcher," and she broke her little water-pitcher. Then said the
little spring from which ran the water, "Girl, why art thou breaking t=
hy
water-jug?" "Have I not reason to break my water-jug?"
"The little louse has burnt he=
rself,
The little flea is weeping,
The little door is creaking, The little broom is sweeping,
The little cart is running, The little ash-heap is burning,
The little tree is shaking itself.&=
quot;
"Oh,
ho!" said the spring, "then I will begin to flow," and began=
to flow
violently. And in the water
everything was drowned, the girl, the little tree, the little ash-heap, the
little cart, the broom, the little door, the little flea, the little louse,=
all
together.
A
certain miller had little by little fallen into poverty, and had nothing le=
ft
but his mill and a large apple-tree behind it. Once when he had gone into t=
he
forest to fetch wood, an old man stepped up to him whom he had never seen
before, and said, "Why dost thou plague thyself with cutting wood, I w=
ill
make thee rich, if thou wilt promise me what is standing behind thy mill?&q=
uot;
"What can that be but my apple-tree?" thought the miller, and sai=
d,
"Yes," and gave a written promise to the stranger. He, however,
laughed mockingly and said, "When three years have passed, I will come=
and
carry away what belongs to me," and then he went. When the miller got =
home,
his wife came to meet him and said, "Tell me, miller, from whence comes
this sudden wealth into our house? All at once every box and chest was fill=
ed;
no one brought it in, and I know not how it happened." He answered,
"It comes from a stranger who met me in the forest, and promised me gr=
eat
treasure. I, in return, have promised him what stands behind the mill; we c=
an
very well give him the big apple-tree for it." "Ah, husband,"
said the terrified wife, "that must have been the devil! He did not me=
an the
apple-tree, but our daughter, who was standing behind the mill sweeping the
yard."
The
miller's daughter was a beautiful, pious girl, and lived through the three
years in the fear of God and without sin. When therefore the time was over,=
and
the day came when the Evil-one was to fetch her, she washed herself clean, =
and
made a circle round herself with chalk. The devil appeared quite early, but=
he
could not come near to her. Angrily, he said to the miller, "Take all
water away from her, that she may no longer be able to wash herself, for
otherwise I have no power over her." The miller was afraid, and did so.
The next morning the devil came again, but she had wept on her hands, and t=
hey
were quite clean. Again he could not get near her, and furiously said to the
miller, "Cut her hands off, or else I cannot get the better of her.&qu=
ot;
The miller was shocked and answered, "How could I cut off my own child=
's
hands?" Then the Evil-one threatened him and said, "If thou dost =
not
do it thou art mine, and I will take thee thyself." The father became
alarmed, and promised to obey him. So he went to the girl and said, "My
child, if I do not cut off both thine hands, the devil will carry me away, =
and
in my terror I have promised to do it. Help me in my need, and forgive me t=
he
harm I do thee." She replied, "Dear father, do with me what you w=
ill,
I am your child." Thereupon she laid down both her hands, and let them=
be
cut off. The devil came for the third time, but she had wept so long and so
much on the stumps, that after all they were quite clean. Then he had to gi=
ve
in, and had lost all right over her.
The
miller said to her, "I have by means of thee received such great wealth
that I will keep thee most delicately as long as thou livest." But she
replied, "Here I cannot stay, I will go forth, compassionate people wi=
ll
give me as much as I require." Thereupon she caused her maimed arms to=
be
bound to her back, and by sunrise she set out on her way, and walked the wh=
ole
day until night fell. Then she came to a royal garden, and by the shimmerin=
g of
the moon she saw that trees covered with beautiful fruits grew in it, but s=
he
could not enter, for there was much water round about it. And as she had wa=
lked
the whole day and not eaten one mouthful, and hunger tormented her, she tho=
ught,
"Ah, if I were but inside, that I might eat of the fruit, else must I =
die
of hunger!" Then she knelt down, called on God the Lord, and prayed. A=
nd
suddenly an angel came towards her, who made a dam in the water, so that the
moat became dry and she could walk through it. And now she went into the ga=
rden
and the angel went with her. She saw a tree covered with beautiful pears, b=
ut
they were all counted. Then s=
he
went to them, and to still her hunger, ate one with her mouth from the tree,
but no more. The gardener was watching; but as the angel was standing by, he
was afraid and thought the maiden was a spirit, and was silent, neither did=
he
dare to cry out, or to speak to the spirit. When she had eaten the pear, she
was satisfied, and went and concealed herself among the bushes. The King to
whom the garden belonged, came down to it next morning, and counted, and saw
that one of the pears was missing, and asked the gardener what had become of
it, as it was not lying beneath the tree, but was gone. Then answered the
gardener, "Last night, a spirit came in, who had no hands, and ate off=
one
of the pears with its mouth." The King said, "How did the spirit =
get
over the water, and where did it go after it had eaten the pear?" The
gardener answered, "Some one came in a snow-white garment from heaven =
who
made a dam, and kept back the water, that the spirit might walk through the
moat. And as it must have been an angel, I was afraid, and asked no questio=
ns,
and did not cry out. When the spirit had eaten the pear, it went back
again." The King said, "If it be as thou sayest, I will watch with
thee to-night."
When
it grew dark the King came into the garden and brought a priest with him, w=
ho
was to speak to the spirit. All three seated themselves beneath the tree and
watched. At midnight the maiden came creeping out of the thicket, went to t=
he
tree, and again ate one pear off it with her mouth, and beside her stood the
angel in white garments. Then the priest went out to them and said,
"Comest thou from heaven or from earth? Art thou a spirit, or a human
being?" She replied, "I am no spirit, but an unhappy mortal deser=
ted
by all but God." The King said, "If thou art forsaken by all the
world, yet will I not forsake thee." He took her with him into his roy=
al
palace, and as she was so beautiful and good, he loved her with all his hea=
rt,
had silver hands made for her, and took her to wife.
After
a year the King had to take the field, so he commended his young Queen to t=
he
care of his mother and said, "If she is brought to bed take care of he=
r,
nurse her well, and tell me of it at once in a letter." Then she gave
birth to a fine boy. So the old mother made haste to write and announce the
joyful news to him. But the messenger rested by a brook on the way, and as =
he
was fatigued by the great distance, he fell asleep. Then came the Devil, who
was always seeking to injure the good Queen, and exchanged the letter for
another, in which was written that the Queen had brought a monster into the
world. When the King read the letter he was shocked and much troubled, but =
he
wrote in answer that they were to take great care of the Queen and nurse her
well until his arrival. The messenger went back with the letter, but rested=
at
the same place and again fell asleep. Then came the Devil once more, and pu=
t a
different letter in his pocket, in which it was written that they were to p=
ut
the Queen and her child to death.
The old mother was terribly shocked when she received the letter, and
could not believe it. She wrote back again to the King, but received no oth=
er
answer, because each time the Devil substituted a false letter, and in the =
last
letter it was also written that she was to preserve the Queen's tongue and =
eyes
as a token that she had obeyed.
But
the old mother wept to think such innocent blood was to be shed, and had a =
hind
brought by night and cut out her tongue and eyes, and kept them. Then said =
she
to the Queen, "I cannot have thee killed as the King commands, but here
thou mayst stay no longer. Go forth into the wide world with thy child, and
never come here again." The poor woman tied her child on her back, and
went away with eyes full of tears. She came into a great wild forest, and t=
hen
she fell on her knees and prayed to God, and the angel of the Lord appeared=
to
her and led her to a little house on which was a sign with the words,
"Here all dwell free." A snow-white maiden came out of the little
house and said, "Welcome, Lady Queen," and conducted her inside. =
Then
they unbound the little boy from her back, and held him to her breast that =
he
might feed, and laid him in a beautifully-made little bed. Then said the po=
or
woman, "From whence knowest thou that I was a queen?" The white
maiden answered, "I am an angel sent by God, to watch over thee and thy
child." The Queen stayed seven years in the little house, and was well
cared for, and by God's grace, because of her piety, her hands which had be=
en
cut off, grew once more.
At
last the King came home again from the war, and his first wish was to see h=
is
wife and the child. Then his aged mother began to weep and said, "Thou
wicked man, why didst thou write to me that I was to take those two innocent
lives?" and she showed h=
im the
two letters which the Evil-one had forged, and then continued, "I did =
as
thou badest me," and she showed the tokens, the tongue and eyes. Then =
the
King began to weep for his poor wife and his little son so much more bitter=
ly
than she was doing, that the aged mother had compassion on him and said, &q=
uot;Be
at peace, she still lives; I secretly caused a hind to be killed, and took
these tokens from it; but I bound the child to thy wife's back and bade her=
go
forth into the wide world, and made her promise never to come back here aga=
in,
because thou wert so angry with her." Then spoke the King, "I wil=
l go
as far as the sky is blue, and will neither eat nor drink until I have found
again my dear wife and my child, if in the meantime they have not been kill=
ed,
or died of hunger."
Thereupon
the King travelled about for seven long years, and sought her in every clef=
t of
the rocks and in every cave, but he found her not, and thought she had died=
of
want. During the whole of this time he neither ate nor drank, but God suppo=
rted
him. At length he came into a great forest, and found therein the little ho=
use
whose sign was, "Here all dwell free." Then forth came the white
maiden, took him by the hand, led him in, and said, "Welcome, Lord
King," and asked him from whence he came. He answered, "Soon shal=
l I
have travelled about for the space of seven years, and I seek my wife and h=
er
child, but cannot find them." The angel offered him meat and drink, bu=
t he
did not take anything, and only wished to rest a little. Then he lay down to
sleep, and put a handkerchief over his face.
Thereupon
the angel went into the chamber where the Queen sat with her son, whom she
usually called "Sorrowful," and said to her, "Go out with thy
child, thy husband hath come." So she went to the place where he lay, =
and
the handkerchief fell from his face. Then said she, "Sorrowful, pick up
thy father's handkerchief, and cover his face again." The child picked=
it
up, and put it over his face again. The King in his sleep heard what passed,
and had pleasure in letting the handkerchief fall once more. But the child =
grew
impatient, and said, "Dear mother, how can I cover my father's face wh=
en I
have no father in this world? I have learnt to say the prayer, 'Our Father,
which art in Heaven,' thou hast told me that my father was in Heaven, and w=
as
the good God, and how can I know a wild man like this? He is not my
father." When the King heard that, he got up, and asked who they were.
Then said she, "I am thy wife, and that is thy son, Sorrowful." A=
nd
he saw her living hands, and said, "My wife had silver hands." She
answered, "The good God has caused my natural hands to grow again;&quo=
t;
and the angel went into the inner room, and brought the silver hands, and
showed them to him. Hereupon he knew for a certainty that it was his dear w=
ife
and his dear child, and he kissed them, and was glad, and said, "A hea=
vy
stone has fallen from off mine heart." Then the angel of God gave them=
one
meal with her, and after that they went home to the King's aged mother. The=
re
were great rejoicings everywhere, and the King and Queen were married again=
, and
lived contentedly to their happy end.
The
mother of Hans said, "Whither away, Hans?" Hans answered, "T=
o Grethel." "Behave well, Hans." &qu=
ot;Oh,
I'll behave well. Good-bye, mother." "Good-bye, Hans." Hans
comes to Grethel, "Good day, Grethel." "Good day, Hans. What
dost thou bring that is good?" "I bring nothing, I want to have
something given me." Grethel presents Hans with a needle. Hans says,
"Good-bye, Grethel."
"Good-bye, Hans."
Hans
takes the needle, sticks it into a hay-cart, and follows the cart home. "Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?" "With Grethel.&q=
uot;
"What didst thou take her?" "Took nothing; had something giv=
en
me." "What did Gret=
hel
give thee?" "Gave me a needle." "Where is the needle,
Hans?" "Stuck it in=
the
hay-cart." "That was ill done, Hans. Thou shouldst have stuck the
needle in thy sleeve." "Never mind, I'll do better next time.&quo=
t;
"Whither
away, Hans?" "To Grethel, mother." "Behave well,
Hans." "Oh, I'll behave well. Good-bye, mother." "Good-=
bye,
Hans."
Hans
comes to Grethel. "Good day, Grethel." "Good day, Hans. What=
dost
thou bring that is good?" "I bring nothing; I want to have someth=
ing
given to me." Grethel pr=
esents
Hans with a knife. "Good-bye, Grethel." "Good-bye
Hans." Hans takes the kn=
ife,
sticks it in his sleeve, and goes home. "Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?" "With Grethel.&q=
uot;
"What didst thou take her?" "Took her nothing, she gave me
something." "What did Grethel give thee?" "Gave me a
knife." "Where is the knife, Hans?" "Stuck in my
sleeve." "That's ill done, Hans, thou shouldst have put the knife=
in
thy pocket." "Never mind, will do better next time."
"Whither away, Hans?" "To Grethel, mother." "Behave
well, Hans." "Oh, I'll behave well. Good-bye, mother." "=
;Good-bye,
Hans."
Hans
comes to Grethel. "Good day, Grethel." "Good day, Hans. What=
good
thing dost thou bring?" "I bring nothing, I want something given
me." Grethel presents Hans with a young goat. "Good-bye, Grethel.=
"
"Good-bye, Hans." H=
ans
takes the goat, ties its legs, and puts it in his pocket. When he gets home=
it
is suffocated. "Good evening, mother." "Good evening, Hans.
Where hast thou been?" "With Grethel." "What didst thou
take her?" "Took nothing, she gave me something." "What=
did
Grethel give thee?" "She gave me a goat." "Where is the
goat, Hans?" "Put it in my pocket." "That was ill done,
Hans, thou shouldst have put a rope round the goat's neck." "Never
mind, will do better next time."
"Whither
away, Hans?" "To Grethel, mother." "Behave well,
Hans." "Oh, I'll behave well. Good-bye, mother." "Good-=
bye,
Hans." Hans comes to Grethel.
"Good day, Grethel." "Good day, Hans. What good thing
dost thou bring?" "I bring nothing, I want something given me.&qu=
ot;
Grethel presents Hans with a piece of bacon. "Good-bye, Grethel."
"Good-bye, Hans."
Hans
takes the bacon, ties it to a rope, and drags it away behind him. The dogs =
come
and devour the bacon. When he gets home, he has the rope in his hand, and t=
here
is no longer anything hanging to it. "Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans." "Where hast thou been?" "With
Grethel." "What didst thou take her?" "I took her nothi=
ng, she
gave me something." "What did Grethel give thee?" "Gave me a bit of bacon."
"Where is the bacon, Hans?" "I tied it to a rope, brought it=
home,
dogs took it." "That was ill done, Hans, thou shouldst have carri=
ed the
bacon on thy head." "Never mind, will do better next time."
"Whither away, Hans?" "To Grethel, mother." "Behave
well, Hans." "I'll behave well. Good-bye, mother."
"Good-bye, Hans."
Hans
comes to Grethel. "Good day, Grethel." "Good day, Hans."
"What good thing dost thou bring?" "I bring nothing, but wou=
ld
have something given." Grethel presents Hans with a calf. "Good-b=
ye,
Grethel." "Good-bye, Hans."
Hans
takes the calf, puts it on his head, and the calf kicks his face. "Good
evening, mother." "Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?"
"With Grethel."
"What didst thou take her?" "I took nothing, but had
something given me." "What did Grethel give thee?" "A
calf." "Where hast thou the calf, Hans?" "I set it on my
head and it kicked my face." "That was ill done, Hans, thou shoul=
dst
have led the calf, and put it in the stall." "Never mind, will do
better next time."
"Whither
away, Hans?" "To Grethel, mother." "Behave well,
Hans." "I'll behave well. Good-bye, mother." "Good-bye,
Hans."
Hans
comes to Grethel. "Good day, Grethel." "Good day, Hans. What
good thing dost thou bring?" "I bring nothing, but would have
something given." Grethel says to Hans, "I will go with thee.&quo=
t;
Hans
takes Grethel, ties her to a rope, leads her to the rack and binds her
fast. Then Hans goes to his m=
other.
"Good evening, mother." "Good evening, Hans. Where hast thou been?" "=
With
Grethel." "What didst thou take her?" "I took her
nothing." "What did Grethel give thee?" "She gave me
nothing, she came with me." "Where hast thou left Grethel?"
"I led her by the rope, tied her to the rack, and scattered some grass=
for
her." "That was ill done, Hans, thou shouldst have cast friendly =
eyes
on her." "Never mind, will do better."
Hans
went into the stable, cut out all the calves' and sheep's eyes, and threw t=
hem
in Grethel's face. Then Grethel became angry, tore herself loose and ran aw=
ay,
and became the bride of Hans.
An
aged count once lived in Switzerland, who had an only son, but he was stupi=
d,
and could learn nothing. Then said the father, "Hark thee, my son, I c=
an
get nothing into thy head, let me try as I will. Thou must go from hence, I
will give thee into the care of a celebrated master, who shall see what he =
can
do with thee." The youth was sent into a strange town, and remained a
whole year with the master. At the end of this time, he came home again, and
his father asked, "Now, my son, what hast thou learnt?" "Fat=
her,
I have learnt what the dogs say when they bark." "Lord have mercy=
on
us!" cried the father; "is that all thou hast learnt? I will send
thee into another town, to another master." The youth was taken thithe=
r,
and stayed a year with this master likewise. When he came back the father a=
gain
asked, "My son, what hast thou learnt?" He answered, "Father=
, I
have learnt what the birds say." Then the father fell into a rage and
said, "Oh, thou lost man, thou hast spent the precious time and learnt
nothing; art thou not ashamed to appear before mine eyes? I will send thee =
to a
third master, but if thou learnest nothing this time also, I will no longer=
be
thy father." The youth remained a whole year with the third master als=
o,
and when he came home again, and his father inquired, "My son, what ha=
st
thou learnt?" he answered, "Dear father, I have this year learnt =
what
the frogs croak." Then the father fell into the most furious anger, sp=
rang
up, called his people thither, and said, "This man is no longer my son=
, I
drive him forth, and command you to take him out into the forest, and kill
him." They took him forth, but when they should have killed him, they
could not do it for pity, and let him go, and they cut the eyes and the ton=
gue
out of a deer that they might carry them to the old man as a token.
The
youth wandered on, and after some time came to a fortress where he begged f=
or a
night's lodging. "Yes," said the lord of the castle, "if thou
wilt pass the night down there in the old tower, go thither; but I warn the=
e,
it is at the peril of thy life, for it is full of wild dogs, which bark and
howl without stopping, and at certain hours a man has to be given to them, =
whom
they at once devour." The whole district was in sorrow and dismay beca=
use
of them, and yet no one could do anything to stop this. The youth, however,=
was
without fear, and said, "Just let me go down to the barking dogs, and =
give
me something that I can throw to them; they will do nothing to harm me.&quo=
t;
As he himself would have it so, they gave him some food for the wild animal=
s,
and led him down to the tower. When he went inside, the dogs did not bark at
him, but wagged their tails quite amicably around him, ate what he set befo=
re
them, and did not hurt one hair of his head. Next morning, to the astonishment =
of
everyone, he came out again safe and unharmed, and said to the lord of the
castle, "The dogs have revealed to me, in their own language, why they
dwell there, and bring evil on the land. They are bewitched, and are oblige=
d to
watch over a great treasure which is below in the tower, and they can have =
no
rest until it is taken away, and I have likewise learnt, from their discour=
se,
how that is to be done." Then all who heard this rejoiced, and the lor=
d of
the castle said he would adopt him as a son if he accomplished it successfu=
lly.
He went down again, and as he knew what he had to do, he did it thoroughly,=
and
brought a chest full of gold out with him. The howling of the wild dogs was
henceforth heard no more; they had disappeared, and the country was freed f=
rom
the trouble.
After
some time he took it into his head that he would travel to Rome. On the way=
he
passed by a marsh, in which a number of frogs were sitting croaking. He
listened to them, and when he became aware of what they were saying, he grew
very thoughtful and sad. At last he arrived in Rome, where the Pope had just
died, and there was great difficulty as to whom they should appoint as his
successor. They at length agreed that the person should be chosen as pope w=
ho
should be distinguished by some divine and miraculous token. And just as th=
at
was decided on, the young count entered into the church, and suddenly two
snow-white doves flew on his shoulders and remained sitting there. The
ecclesiastics recognized therein the token from above, and asked him on the=
spot
if he would be pope. He was undecided, and knew not if he were worthy of th=
is,
but the doves counselled him to do it, and at length he said yes. Then was =
he anointed
and consecrated, and thus was fulfilled what he had heard from the frogs on=
his
way, which had so affected him, that he was to be his Holiness the Pope. Th=
en
he had to sing a mass, and did not know one word of it, but the two doves s=
at
continually on his shoulders, and said it all in his ear.
There
was once a man who had a daughter who was called Clever Elsie. And when she=
had
grown up her father said, "We will get her married." "Yes,&q=
uot;
said the mother; "if only any one would come who would have her."=
At length
a man came from a distance and wooed her, who was called Hans; but he
stipulated that Clever Elsie should be really wise. "Oh," said the
father, "she's sharp enough;" and the mother said, "Oh, she =
can
see the wind coming up the street, and hear the flies coughing."
"Well," said Hans, "if she is not really wise, I won't have
her." When they were sitting at dinner and had eaten, the mother said,
"Elsie, go into the cellar and fetch some beer." Then Clever Elsie
took the pitcher from the wall, went into the cellar, and tapped the lid
briskly as she went, so that the time might not appear long. When she was b=
elow
she fetched herself a chair, and set it before the barrel so that she had no
need to stoop, and did not hurt her back or do herself any unexpected injur=
y.
Then she placed the can before her, and turned the tap, and while the beer =
was running
she would not let her eyes be idle, but looked up at the wall, and after mu=
ch
peering here and there, saw a pick-axe exactly above her, which the masons =
had
accidentally left there.
Then
Clever Elsie began to weep, and said, "If I get Hans, and we have a ch=
ild,
and he grows big, and we send him into the cellar here to draw beer, then t=
he
pick-axe will fall on his head and kill him." Then she sat and wept and
screamed with all the strength of her body, over the misfortune which lay
before her. Those upstairs waited for the drink, but Clever Elsie still did=
not
come. Then the woman said to the servant, "Just go down into the cellar
and see where Elsie is." The maid went and found her sitting in front =
of
the barrel, screaming loudly. "Elsie, why weepest thou?" asked the
maid. "Ah," she answered, "have I not reason to weep? If I g=
et
Hans, and we have a child, and he grows big, and has to draw beer here, the
pick-axe will perhaps fall on his head, and kill him." Then said the m=
aid,
"What a clever Elsie we have!" and sat down beside her and began
loudly to weep over the misfortune. After a while, as the maid did not come
back, those upstairs were thirsty for the beer, the man said to the boy,
"Just go down into the cellar and see where Elsie and the girl are.&qu=
ot;
The boy went down, and there sat Clever Elsie and the girl both weeping
together. Then he asked, "Why are ye weeping?" "Ah," sa=
id
Elsie, "have I not reason to weep? If I get Hans, and we have a child,=
and
he grows big, and has to draw beer here, the pick-axe will fall on his head=
and
kill him." Then said the boy, "What a clever Elsie we
have!" and sat down by h=
er,
and likewise began to howl loudly. Upstairs they waited for the boy, but as=
he
still did not return, the man said to the woman, "Just go down into the
cellar and see where Elsie is!" The woman went down, and found all thr=
ee in
the midst of their lamentations, and inquired what was the cause; then Elsie
told her also that her future child was to be killed by the pick-axe, when =
it
grew big and had to draw beer, and the pick-axe fell down. Then said the mo=
ther
likewise, "What a clever Elsie we have!" and sat down and wept wi=
th
them. The man upstairs waited a short time, but as his wife did not come ba=
ck
and his thirst grew ever greater, he said, "I must go into the cellar
myself and see where Elsie is." But when he got into the cellar, and t=
hey
were all sitting together crying, and he heard the reason, and that Elsie's
child was the cause, and that Elsie might perhaps bring one into the world =
some
day, and that it might be killed by the pick-axe, if it should happen to be
sitting beneath it, drawing beer just at the very time when it fell down, he
cried, "Oh, what a clever Elsie!" and sat down, and likewise wept
with them. The bridegroom stayed upstairs alone for a long time; then as no=
one
would come back he thought, "They must be waiting for me below; I too =
must
go there and see what they are about." When he got down, five of them =
were
sitting screaming and lamenting quite piteously, each out-doing the other.
"What misfortune has happened then?" he asked. "Ah, dear
Hans," said Elsie, "if we marry each other and have a child, and =
he
is big, and we perhaps send him here to draw something to drink, then the p=
ick-axe
which has been left up there might dash his brains out if it were to fall d=
own,
so have we not reason to weep?" "Come," said Hans, "more
understanding than that is not needed for my household, as thou art such a
clever Elsie, I will have thee," and he seized her hand, took her upst=
airs
with him, and married her.
After
Hans had had her some time, he said, "Wife, I am going out to work and
earn some money for us; go into the field and cut the corn that we may have
some bread." "Yes, dear Hans, I will do that." After Hans had
gone away, she cooked herself some good broth and took it into the field wi=
th her.
When she came to the field she said to herself, "What shall I do; shal=
l I
shear first, or shall I eat first? Oh, I will eat first." Then she emp=
tied
her basin of broth, and when she was fully satisfied, she once more said,
"What shall I do? Shall I shear first, or shall I sleep first? I will
sleep first." Then she lay down among the corn and fell asleep. Hans h=
ad
been at home for a long time, but Elsie did not come; then said he, "W=
hat
a clever Elsie I have; she is so industrious that she does not even come ho=
me
to eat." As, however, she still stayed away, and it was evening, Hans =
went
out to see what she had cut, but nothing was cut, and she was lying among t=
he
corn asleep. Then Hans hastened home and brought a fowler's net with little
bells and hung it round about her, and she still went on sleeping. Then he =
ran
home, shut the house-door, and sat down in his chair and worked. At length,
when it was quite dark, Clever Elsie awoke and when she got up there was a
jingling all round about her, and the bells rang at each step which she too=
k.
Then she was alarmed, and became uncertain whether she really was Clever El=
sie
or not, and said, "Is it I, or is it not I?" But she knew not what
answer to make to this, and stood for a time in doubt; at length she though=
t, "I
will go home and ask if it be I, or if it be not I, they will be sure to
know." She ran to the door of her own house, but it was shut; then she
knocked at the window and cried, "Hans, is Elsie within?"
"Yes," answered Hans, "she is within." Hereupon she was
terrified, and said, "Ah, heavens! Then it is not I," and went to
another door; but when the people heard the jingling of the bells they would
not open it, and she could get in nowhere. Then she ran out of the village,=
and
no one has seen her since.
One
very fine day it came to pass that the good God wished to enjoy himself in =
the
heavenly garden, and took all the apostles and saints with him, so that no =
one
stayed in heaven but Saint Peter. The Lord had commanded him to let no one =
in
during his absence, so Peter stood by the door and kept watch. Before long =
some
one knocked. Peter asked who was there, and what he wanted? "I am a po=
or,
honest tailor who prays for admission," replied a smooth voice.
"Honest indeed," said Peter, "like the thief on the gallows!
Thou hast been light-fingered and hast snipped folks' clothes away. Thou wi=
lt
not get into heaven. The Lord hath forbidden me to let any one in while he =
is
out." "Come, do be merciful," cried the tailor. "Little
scraps which fall off the table of their own accord are not stolen, and are=
not
worth speaking about. Look, I am lame, and have blisters on my feet with
walking here, I cannot possibly turn back again. Only let me in, and I will=
do
all the rough work. I will carry the children, and wash their clothes, and =
wash
and clean the benches on which they have been playing, and patch all their =
torn
clothes." Saint Peter let himself be moved by pity, and opened the doo=
r of
heaven just wide enough for the lame tailor to slip his lean body in. He was
forced to sit down in a corner behind the door, and was to stay quietly and
peaceably there, in order that the Lord, when he returned, might not observe
him and be angry. The tailor obeyed, but once when Saint Peter went outside=
the
door, he got up, and full of curiosity, went round about into every corner =
of
heaven, and inspected the arrangement of every place. At length he came to a
spot where many beautiful and delightful chairs were standing, and in the m=
idst
was a seat all of gold which was set with shining jewels, likewise it was m=
uch higher
than the other chairs, and a footstool of gold was before it. It was, howev=
er,
the seat on which the Lord sat when he was at home, and from which he could=
see
everything which happened on earth. The tailor stood still, and looked at t=
he
seat for a long time, for it pleased him better than all else. At last he c=
ould
master his curiosity no longer, and climbed up and seated himself in the ch=
air.
Then he saw everything which was happening on earth, and observed an ugly o=
ld
woman who was standing washing by the side of a stream, secretly laying two
veils on one side for herself. The sight of this made the tailor so angry t=
hat
he laid hold of the golden footstool, and threw it down to earth through
heaven, at the old thief. As, however, he could not bring the stool back ag=
ain,
he slipped quietly out of the chair, seated himself in his place behind the
door, and behaved as if he had never stirred from the spot.
When the Lord and master came back again with his heavenly companions, he did not see the tailor behind the door, but when he seated himself on his chair the footstool was missing. He asked Saint Peter what had become of the stool, b= ut he did not know. Then he asked if he had let anyone come in. "I know o= f no one who has been here," answered Peter, "but a lame tailor, who is still sitting behind the door." Then the Lord had the tailor brought before him, and asked him if he had taken away the stool, and where he had = put it? "Oh, Lord," answered the tailor joyously, "I threw it in= my anger down to earth at an old woman whom I saw stealing two veils at the washing." "Oh, thou knave," said the Lord, "were I to j= udge as thou judgest, how dost thou think thou couldst have escaped so long? I should long ago have had no chairs, benches, seats, nay, not even an oven-f= ork, but should have thrown everything down at the sinners. Henceforth thou canst stay no longer in heaven, but must go outside the door again. Then go where thou wilt. No one shall give punishment here, but I alone, the Lord."<= o:p>
Peter
was obliged to take the tailor out of heaven again, and as he had torn shoe=
s,
and feet covered with blisters, he took a stick in his hand, and went to
"Wait-a-bit," where the good soldiers sit and make merry.
There
was once upon a time a tailor who had three sons, and only one goat. But as=
the
goat supported the whole of them with her milk, she was obliged to have good
food, and to be taken every day to pasture. The sons, therefore, did this, =
in
turn. Once the eldest took her to the churchyard, where the finest herbs we=
re
to be found, and let her eat and run about there. At night when it was time=
to
go home he asked, "Goat, hast thou had enough?" The goat answered=
,
"I have eaten so much, Not a leaf more I'll touch, meh!
meh!"
"Come
home, then," said the youth, and took hold of the cord round her neck,=
led
her into the stable and tied her up securely. "Well," said the old
tailor, "has the goat had as much food as she ought?" "Oh,&q=
uot;
answered the son, "she has eaten so much, not a leaf more she'll
touch." But the father wished to satisfy himself, and went down to the
stable, stroked the dear animal and asked, "Goat, art thou
satisfied?" The goat answered,
"Wherewithal should I be satis=
fied? Among the graves I leapt about,
"What
do I hear?" cried the tailor, and ran upstairs and said to the youth,
"Hollo, thou liar: thou saidest the goat had had enough, and hast let =
her
hunger!" and in his anger he took the yard-measure from the wall, and
drove him out with blows.
Next
day it was the turn of the second son, who looked out for a place in the fe=
nce
of the garden, where nothing but good herbs grew, and the goat cleared them=
all
off. At night when he wanted to go home, he asked, "Goat, art thou
satisfied?" The goat answered,
"I have eaten so much, Not a leaf more I'll touch, meh!
meh!"
"Come
home, then," said the youth, and led her home, and tied her up in the
stable. "Well," said the old tailor, "has the goat had as mu=
ch
food as she ought?"
"Oh," answered the son, "she has eaten so much, not a
leaf more she'll touch." The
tailor would not rely on this, but went down to the stable and said,
"Goat, hast thou had enough?" The goat answered,
"Wherewithal should I be satis=
fied? Among the graves I leapt about,
"The
godless wretch!" cried the tailor, "to let such a good animal hun=
ger,"
and he ran up and drove the youth out of doors with the yard-measure.
Now
came the turn of the third son, who wanted to do the thing well, and sought=
out
some bushes with the finest leaves, and let the goat devour them. In the
evening when he wanted to go home, he asked, "Goat, hast thou had
enough?" The goat answer=
ed,
"I have eaten so much, Not a leaf more I'll touch, meh!
meh!"
"Come
home, then," said the youth, and led her into the stable, and tied her
up. "Well," said th=
e old
tailor, "has the goat had a proper amount of food?" "She has
eaten so much, not a leaf more she'll touch." The tailor did not trust=
to
that, but went down and asked, "Goat, hast thou had enough?" The
wicked beast answered,
"Wherewithal should I be satis=
fied? Among the graves I leapt about,
"Oh,
the brood of liars!" cried the tailor, "each as wicked and forget=
ful of
his duty as the other! Ye shall no longer make a fool of me," and quite
beside himself with anger, he ran upstairs and belabored the poor young fel=
low
so vigorously with the yard-measure that he sprang out of the house.
The
old tailor was now alone with his goat. Next morning he went down into the =
stable,
caressed the goat and said, "Come, my dear little animal, I will take =
thee
to feed myself." He took her by the rope and conducted her to green
hedges, and amongst milfoil, and whatever else goats like to eat. "The=
re
thou mayest for once eat to thy heart's content," said he to her, and =
let
her browse till evening. Then=
he
asked, "Goat, art thou satisfied?" She replied,
"I have eaten so much, Not a leaf more I'll touch, meh!
meh!"
"Come
home, then," said the tailor, and led her into the stable, and tied her
fast. When he was going away,=
he
turned round again and said, "Well, art thou satisfied for once?"=
But
the goat did not behave the better to him, and cried,
"Wherewithal should I be satis=
fied? Among the graves I leapt about,
When
the tailor heard that, he was shocked, and saw clearly that he had driven a=
way
his three sons without cause. "Wait, thou ungrateful creature," c=
ried
he, "it is not enough to drive thee forth, I will mark thee so that th=
ou
wilt no more dare to show thyself amongst honest tailors." In great ha=
ste
he ran upstairs, fetched his razor, lathered the goat's head, and shaved he=
r as
clean as the palm of his hand. And
as the yard-measure would have been too good for her, he brought the horsew=
hip,
and gave her such cuts with it that she ran away in violent haste.
When
the tailor was thus left quite alone in his house he fell into great grief,=
and
would gladly have had his sons back again, but no one knew whither they were
gone. The eldest had apprenticed himself to a joiner, and learnt industriou=
sly
and indefatigably, and when the time came for him to go travelling, his mas=
ter
presented him with a little table which had no particular appearance, and w=
as
made of common wood, but it had one good property; if anyone set it out, and
said, "Little table, spread thyself," the good little table was at
once covered with a clean little cloth, and a plate was there, and a knife =
and
fork beside it, and dishes with boiled meats and roasted meats, as many as
there was room for, and a great glass of red wine shone so that it made the=
heart
glad. The young journeyman thought, "With this thou hast enough for thy
whole life," and went joyously about the world and never troubled hims=
elf
at all whether an inn was good or bad, or if anything was to be found in it=
or
not. When it suited him he did not enter an inn at all, but either on the
plain, in a wood, a meadow, or wherever he fancied, he took his little table
off his back, set it down before him, and said, "Cover thyself," =
and
then everything appeared that his heart desired. At length he took it into =
his
head to go back to his father, whose anger would now be appeased, and who w=
ould
now willingly receive him with his wishing-table. It came to pass that on h=
is
way home, he came one evening to an inn which was filled with guests. They =
bade
him welcome, and invited him to sit and eat with them, for otherwise he wou=
ld
have difficulty in getting anything. "No," answered the joiner,
"I will not take the few bites out of your mouths; rather than that, y=
ou
shall be my guests." They laughed, and thought he was jesting with the=
m;
he, however, placed his wooden table in the middle of the room, and said, &=
quot;Little
table, cover thyself." Instantly it was covered with food, so good that
the host could never have procured it, and the smell of it ascended pleasan=
tly
to the nostrils of the guests. "Fall to, dear friends," said the
joiner; and the guests when they saw that he meant it, did not need to be a=
sked
twice, but drew near, pulled out their knives and attacked it valiantly. And
what surprised them the most was that when a dish became empty, a full one
instantly took its place of its own accord. The innkeeper stood in one corn=
er
and watched the affair; he did not at all know what to say, but thought,
"Thou couldst easily find a use for such a cook as that in thy
kitchen." The joiner and his comrades made merry until late into the
night; at length they lay down to sleep, and the young apprentice also went=
to
bed, and set his magic table against the wall. The host's thoughts, however,
let him have no rest; it occurred to him that there was a little old table =
in
his lumber-room which looked just like the apprentice's and he brought it o=
ut
quite softly, and exchanged it for the wishing-table. Next morning, the joi=
ner
paid for his bed, took up his table, never thinking that he had got a false
one, and went his way. At mid-day he reached his father, who received him w=
ith
great joy. "Well, my dear son, what hast thou learnt?" said he to
him. "Father, I have become a joiner."
"A
good trade," replied the old man; "but what hast thou brought bac=
k with
thee from thy apprenticeship?" "Father, the best thing which I ha=
ve brought
back with me is this little table." The tailor inspected it on all sid=
es
and said, "Thou didst not make a masterpiece when thou mad'st that; it=
is
a bad old table." "But it is a table which furnishes itself,"=
; replied
the son. "When I set it out, and tell it to cover itself, the most
beautiful dishes stand on it, and a wine also, which gladdens the heart. Ju=
st
invite all our relations and friends, they shall refresh and enjoy themselv=
es
for once, for the table will give them all they require." When the com=
pany
was assembled, he put his table in the middle of the room and said,
"Little table, cover thyself," but the little table did not bestir
itself, and remained just as bare as any other table which did not understa=
nd
language. Then the poor apprentice became aware that his table had been
changed, and was ashamed at having to stand there like a liar. The relation=
s,
however, mocked him, and were forced to go home without having eaten or dru=
nk.
The father brought out his patches again, and went on tailoring, but the son
went to a master in the craft.
The
second son had gone to a miller and had apprenticed himself to him. When his
years were over, the master said, "As thou hast conducted thyself so w=
ell,
I give thee an ass of a peculiar kind, which neither draws a cart nor carri=
es a
sack." "To what use is he put, then?" asked the young
apprentice. "He lets gold drop from his mouth," answered the mill=
er.
"If thou settest him on a cloth and sayest 'Bricklebrit,' the good ani=
mal
will drop gold pieces for thee." "That is a fine thing," said
the apprentice, and thanked the master, and went out into the world. When he
had need of gold, he had only to say "Bricklebrit" to his ass, an=
d it
rained gold pieces, and he had nothing to do but pick them off the ground.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Wheresoever he went, the best of
everything was good enough for him, and the dearer the better, for he had
always a full purse. When he had looked about the world for some time, he
thought, "Thou must seek out thy father; if thou goest to him with the
gold-ass he will forget his anger, and receive thee well." It came to =
pass
that he came to the same public-house in which his brother's table had been=
exchanged.
He led his ass by the bridle, and the host was about to take the animal from
him and tie him up, but the young apprentice said, "Don't trouble
yourself, I will take my grey horse into the stable, and tie him up myself =
too,
for I must know where he stands." This struck the host as odd, and he
thought that a man who was forced to look after his ass himself, could not =
have
much to spend; but when the stranger put his hand in his pocket and brought=
out
two gold pieces, and said he was to provide something good for him, the host
opened his eyes wide, and ran and sought out the best he could muster. After
dinner the guest asked what he owed. The host did not see why he should not
double the reckoning, and said the apprentice must give two more gold piece=
s.
He felt in his pocket, but his gold was just at an end. "Wait an insta=
nt, sir
host," said he, "I will go and fetch some money;" but he took
the table-cloth with him. The host could not imagine what this could mean, =
and being
curious, stole after him, and as the guest bolted the stable-door, he peeped
through a hole left by a knot in the wood. The stranger spread out the cloth
under the animal and cried, "Bricklebrit," and immediately the be=
ast
began to let gold pieces fall, so that it fairly rained down money on the
ground. "Eh, my word," said the host, "ducats are quickly co=
ined
there! A purse like that is not amiss." The guest paid his score, and =
went
to bed, but in the night the host stole down into the stable, led away the
master of the mint, and tied up another ass in his place. Early next morning
the apprentice travelled away with his ass, and thought that he had his
gold-ass. At mid-day he reached his father, who rejoiced to see him again, =
and
gladly took him in. "What hast thou made of thyself, my son?" ask=
ed
the old man. "A miller," dear father, he answered. "What hast
thou brought back with thee from thy travels?" "Nothing else but =
an
ass." "There are asses enough here," said the father, "I
would rather have had a good goat." "Yes," replied the son,
"but it is no common ass, but a gold-ass, when I say 'Bricklebrit,' the
good beast opens its mouth and drops a whole sheetful of gold pieces. Just
summon all our relations hither, and I will make them rich folks."
"That suits me well," said the tailor, "for then I shall hav=
e no
need to torment myself any longer with the needle," and ran out himself
and called the relations together. As soon as they were assembled, the mill=
er
bade them make way, spread out his cloth, and brought the ass into the room.
"Now watch," said he, and cried, "Bricklebrit," but no =
gold
pieces fell, and it was clear that the animal knew nothing of the art, for
every ass does not attain such perfection. Then the poor miller pulled a lo=
ng
face, saw that he was betrayed, and begged pardon of the relatives, who went
home as poor as they came. There was no help for it, the old man had to bet=
ake
him to his needle once more, and the youth hired himself to a miller.
The
third brother had apprenticed himself to a turner, and as that is skilled
labour, he was the longest in learning. His brothers, however, told him in a
letter how badly things had gone with them, and how the innkeeper had cheat=
ed
them of their beautiful wishing-gifts on the last evening before they reach=
ed
home. When the turner had ser=
ved
his time, and had to set out on his travels, as he had conducted himself so
well, his master presented him with a sack and said, "There is a cudge=
l in
it." "I can put on the sack," said he, "and it may be of
good service to me, but why should the cudgel be in it? It only makes it
heavy." "I will tell thee why," replied the master; "if=
any
one has done anything to injure thee, do but say, 'Out of the sack, Cudgel!'
and the cudgel will leap forth among the people, and play such a dance on t=
heir
backs that they will not be able to stir or move for a week, and it will no=
t leave
off until thou sayest, 'Into the sack, Cudgel!'" The apprentice thanked
him, and put the sack on his back, and when any one came too near him, and
wished to attack him, he said, "Out of the sack, Cudgel!" and ins=
tantly
the cudgel sprang out, and dusted the coat or jacket of one after the other=
on
their backs, and never stopped until it had stripped it off them, and it was
done so quickly, that before anyone was aware, it was already his own
turn. In the evening the young
turner reached the inn where his brothers had been cheated. He laid his sac=
k on
the table before him, and began to talk of all the wonderful things which he
had seen in the world. "Yes," said he, "people may easily fi=
nd a
table which will cover itself, a gold-ass, and things of that kind -- extre=
mely
good things which I by no means despise---but these are nothing in comparis=
on
with the treasure which I have won for myself, and am carrying about with m=
e in
my sack there." The inn-keeper pricked up his ears, "What in the
world can that be?" thought he; "the sack must be filled with not=
hing
but jewels; I ought to get them cheap too, for all good things go in
threes." When it was time for sleep, the guest stretched himself on the
bench, and laid his sack beneath him for a pillow. When the inn-keeper thou=
ght
his guest was lying in a sound sleep, he went to him and pushed and pulled
quite gently and carefully at the sack to see if he could possibly draw it =
away
and lay another in its place. The turner had, however, been waiting for this
for a long time, and now just as the inn-keeper was about to give a hearty =
tug,
he cried, "Out of the sack, Cudgel!" Instantly the little cudgel came f=
orth, and
fell on the inn-keeper and gave him a sound thrashing.
The
host cried for mercy; but the louder he cried, so much more heavily the cud=
gel
beat the time on his back, until at length he fell to the ground
exhausted. Then the turner sa=
id,
"If thou dost not give back the table which covers itself, and the
gold-ass, the dance shall begin afresh." "Oh, no," cried the
host, quite humbly, "I will gladly produce everything, only make the
accursed kobold creep back into the sack." Then said the apprentice,
"I will let mercy take the place of justice, but beware of getting into
mischief again!" So he cried, "Into the sack, Cudgel!" and l=
et
him have rest.
Next
morning the turner went home to his father with the wishing-table, and the
gold-ass. The tailor rejoiced when he saw him once more, and asked him like=
wise
what he had learned in foreign parts. "Dear father," said he, &qu=
ot;I
have become a turner." "A skilled trade," said the father.
"What hast thou brought back with thee from thy travels?"
"A
precious thing, dear father," replied the son, "a cudgel in the
sack."
"What!"
cried the father, "a cudgel! That's worth thy trouble, indeed! From ev=
ery
tree thou can cut thyself one." "But not one like this, dear fath=
er.
If I say, 'Out of the sack, Cudgel!' the cudgel springs out and leads any o=
ne
who means ill with me a weary dance, and never stops until he lies on the
ground and prays for fair weather. Look you, with this cudgel have I got ba=
ck
the wishing-table and the gold-ass which the thievish inn-keeper took away =
from
my brothers. Now let them both be sent for, and invite all our kinsmen. I w=
ill
give them to eat and to drink, and will fill their pockets with gold into t=
he
bargain." The old tailor would not quite believe, but nevertheless got=
the
relatives together. Then the turner spread a cloth in the room and led in t=
he
gold-ass, and said to his brother, "Now, dear brother, speak to him.&q=
uot;
The miller said, "Bricklebrit," and instantly the gold pieces fel=
l down
on the cloth like a thunder-shower, and the ass did not stop until every on=
e of
them had so much that he could carry no more. (I can see in thy face that t=
hou also
wouldst like to be there.)
Then
the turner brought the little table, and said, "Now dear brother, spea=
k to
it." And scarcely had the
carpenter said, "Table, cover thyself," than it was spread and am=
ply
covered with the most exquisite dishes. Then such a meal took place as the =
good
tailor had never yet known in his house, and the whole party of kinsmen sta=
yed
together till far in the night, and were all merry and glad. The tailor loc=
ked
away needle and thread, yard-measure and goose, in a press, and lived with =
his
three sons in joy and splendour. (What, however, has become of the goat who=
was
to blame for the tailor driving out his three sons? That I will tell thee. =
She
was ashamed that she had a bald head, and ran to a fox's hole and crept into
it. When the fox came home, he was met by two great eyes shining out of the
darkness, and was terrified and ran away. A bear met him, and as the fox lo=
oked
quite disturbed, he said, "What is the matter with thee, brother Fox, =
why
dost thou look like that?" "Ah," answered Redskin, "a
fierce beast is in my cave and stared at me with its fiery eyes." &quo=
t;We
will soon drive him out," said the bear, and went with him to the cave=
and
looked in, but when he saw the fiery eyes, fear seized on him likewise; he
would have nothing to do with the furious beast, and took to his heels. The=
bee
met him, and as she saw that he was ill at ease, she said, "Bear, thou=
art
really pulling a very pitiful face; what has become of all thy gaiety?"
"It is all very well for thee to talk," replied the bear, "a
furious beast with staring eyes is in Redskin's house, and we can't drive h=
im
out." The bee said, "Bear I pity thee, I am a poor weak creature =
whom
thou wouldst not turn aside to look at, but still, I believe, I can help
thee." She flew into the fox's cave, lighted on the goat's smoothly-sh=
orn
head, and stung her so violently, that she sprang up, crying "Meh,
meh," and ran forth into the world as if mad, and to this hour no one
knows where she has gone.)
There
was once a poor peasant who sat in the evening by the hearth and poked the
fire, and his wife sat and span. Then said he, "How sad it is that we =
have
no children! With us all is so quiet, and in other houses it is noisy and
lively."
"Yes,"
replied the wife, and sighed, "even if we had only one, and it were qu=
ite
small, and only as big as a thumb, I should be quite satisfied, and we would
still love it with all our hearts." Now it so happened that the woman =
fell
ill, and after seven months gave birth to a child, that was perfect in all =
its
limbs, but no longer than a thumb. Then said they, "It is as we wished=
it
to be, and it shall be our dear child;" and because of its size, they
called it Thumbling. They did not let it want for food, but the child did n=
ot
grow taller, but remained as it had been at the first, nevertheless it look=
ed
sensibly out of its eyes, and soon showed itself to be a wise and nimble
creature, for everything it did turned out well.
One
day the peasant was getting ready to go into the forest to cut wood, when he
said as if to himself, "How I wish that there was any one who would br=
ing
the cart to me!" "Oh father," cried Thumbling, "I will =
soon
bring the cart, rely on that; it shall be in the forest at the appointed ti=
me."
The man smiled and said, "How can that be done, thou art far too small=
to
lead the horse by the reins?" "That's of no consequence, father, =
if
my mother will only harness it, I shall sit in the horse's ear and call out=
to
him how he is to go." "Well," answered the man, "for on=
ce
we will try it."
When
the time came, the mother harnessed the horse, and placed Thumbling in its =
ear,
and then the little creature cried, "Gee up, gee up!"
Then
it went quite properly as if with its master, and the cart went the right w=
ay
into the forest. It so happened that just as he was turning a corner, and t=
he
little one was crying, "Gee up," two strange men came towards him.
"My word!" said one of them, "What is this? There is a cart =
coming,
and a driver is calling to the horse and still he is not to be seen!"
"That can't be right," said the other, "we will follow the c=
art and
see where it stops." The cart, however, drove right into the forest, a=
nd
exactly to the place where the wood had been cut. When Thumbling saw his
father, he cried to him, "Seest thou, father, here I am with the cart;=
now
take me down." The father got hold of the horse with his left hand and
with the right took his little son out of the ear. Thumbling sat down quite
merrily on a straw, but when the two strange men saw him, they did not know
what to say for astonishment. Then one of them took the other aside and sai=
d,
"Hark, the little fellow would make our fortune if we exhibited him in=
a
large town, for money. We wil=
l buy
him." They went to the peasant and said, "Sell us the little man.=
He
shall be well treated with us." "No," replied the father,
"he is the apple of my eye, and all the money in the world cannot buy =
him
from me." Thumbling, however, when he heard of the bargain, had crept =
up
the folds of his father's coat, placed himself on his shoulder, and whisper=
ed
in his ear, "Father do give me away, I will soon come back again."
Then the father parted with him to the two men for a handsome bit of money.
"Where wilt thou sit?" they said to him. "Oh just set me on =
the
rim of your hat, and then I can walk backwards and forwards and look at the
country, and still not fall down." They did as he wished, and when
Thumbling had taken leave of his father, they went away with him. They walk=
ed
until it was dusk, and then the little fellow said, "Do take me down, I
want to come down." The man took his hat off, and put the little fello=
w on
the ground by the wayside, and he leapt and crept about a little between the
sods, and then he suddenly slipped into a mouse-hole which he had sought ou=
t.
"Good evening, gentlemen, just go home without me," he cried to t=
hem,
and mocked them. They ran thither and stuck their sticks into the mouse-hol=
e,
but it was all lost labour. Thumbling crept still farther in, and as it soon
became quite dark, they were forced to go home with their vexation and their
empty purses.
When
Thumbling saw that they were gone, he crept back out of the subterranean
passage. "It is so dangerous to walk on the ground in the dark," =
said
he; "how easily a neck or a leg is broken!" Fortunately he knocked
against an empty snail-shell. "Thank God!" said he. "In that=
I can
pass the night in safety," and got into it. Not long afterwards, when =
he
was just going to sleep, he heard two men go by, and one of them was saying,
"How shall we contrive to get hold of the rich pastor's silver and
gold?" "I could tell thee that," cried Thumbling, interrupti=
ng
them. "What was that?" said one of the thieves in fright, "I
heard some one speaking." They stood still listening, and Thumbling sp=
oke
again, and said, "Take me with you, and I'll help you."
"But
where art thou?" "Just look on the ground, and observe from whenc=
e my
voice comes," he replied. There the thieves at length found him, and l=
ifted
him up. "Thou little imp=
, how
wilt thou help us?" they said. "A great deal," said he, &quo=
t;I
will creep into the pastor's room through the iron bars, and will reach out=
to
you whatever you want to have." "Come then," they said,
"and we will see what thou canst do." When they got to the pastor=
's
house, Thumbling crept into the room, but instantly cried out with all his
might, "Do you want to have everything that is here?" The thieves
were alarmed, and said, "But do speak softly, so as not to waken any
one!" Thumbling however, behaved as if he had not understood this, and
cried again, "What do you want? Do you want to have everything that is
here?" The cook, who slept in the next room, heard this and sat up in =
bed,
and listened. The thieves, however, had in their fright run some distance a=
way,
but at last they took courage, and thought, "The little rascal wants to
mock us." They came back and whispered to him, "Come, be serious,=
and
reach something out to us." Then Thumbling again cried as loudly as he
could, "I really will give you everything, just put your hands in.&quo=
t;
The maid who was listening, heard this quite distinctly, and jumped out of =
bed
and rushed to the door. The thieves took flight, and ran as if the Wild
Huntsman were behind them, but as the maid could not see anything, she went=
to
strike a light. When she came to the place with it, Thumbling, unperceived,
betook himself to the granary, and the maid, after she had examined every
corner and found nothing, lay down in her bed again, and believed that, aft=
er
all, she had only been dreaming with open eyes and ears.
Thumbling
had climbed up among the hay and found a beautiful place to sleep in; there=
he
intended to rest until day, and then go home again to his parents. But he h=
ad
other things to go through. Truly, there is much affliction and misery in t=
his
world! When day dawned, the maid arose from her bed to feed the cows. Her f=
irst
walk was into the barn, where she laid hold of an armful of hay, and precis=
ely
that very one in which poor Thumbling was lying asleep. He, however, was
sleeping so soundly that he was aware of nothing, and did not awake until he
was in the mouth of the cow, who had picked him up with the hay. "Ah,
heavens!" cried he, "how have I got into the fulling mill?" =
but
he soon discovered where he was. Then it was necessary to be careful not to=
let
himself go between the teeth and be dismembered, but he was nevertheless fo=
rced
to slip down into the stomach with the hay. "In this little room the
windows are forgotten," said he, "and no sun shines in, neither w=
ill
a candle be brought." His quarters were especially unpleasing to him, =
and
the worst was, more and more hay was always coming in by the door, and the
space grew less and less. Then at length in his anguish, he cried as loud a=
s he
could, "Bring me no more fodder, bring me no more fodder." The ma=
id
was just milking the cow, and when she heard some one speaking, and saw no =
one,
and perceived that it was the same voice that she had heard in the night, s=
he
was so terrified that she slipped off her stool, and spilt the milk. She ra=
n in
great haste to her master, and said, "Oh heavens, pastor, the cow has =
been
speaking!" "Thou art mad," replied the pastor; but he went
himself to the byre to see what was there. Hardly, however had he set his f=
oot
inside when Thumbling again cried, "Bring me no more fodder, bring me =
no
more fodder." Then the pastor himself was alarmed, and thought that an
evil spirit had gone into the cow, and ordered her to be killed. She was
killed, but the stomach, in which Thumbling was, was thrown on the midden.
Thumbling had great difficulty in working his way; however, he succeeded so=
far
as to get some room, but just as he was going to thrust his head out, a new
misfortune occurred. A hungry wolf ran thither, and swallowed the whole sto=
mach
at one gulp. Thumbling did not lose courage. "Perhaps," thought h=
e,
"the wolf will listen to what I have got to say," and he called t=
o him
from out of his stomach, "Dear wolf, I know of a magnificent feast for
you."
"Where
is it to be had?" said the wolf.
"In
such and such a house; thou must creep into it through the kitchen-sink, and
wilt find cakes, and bacon, and sausages, and as much of them as thou canst
eat," and he described to him exactly his father's house. The wolf did=
not
require to be told this twice, squeezed himself in at night through the sin=
k,
and ate to his heart's content in the larder. When he had eaten his fill, he
wanted to go out again, but he had become so big that he could not go out by
the same way. Thumbling had r=
eckoned
on this, and now began to make a violent noise in the wolf's body, and raged
and screamed as loudly as he could. "Wilt thou be quiet," said th=
e wolf,
"thou wilt waken up the people!" "Eh, what," replied th=
e little
fellow, "thou hast eaten thy fill, and I will make merry likewise,&quo=
t; and
began once more to scream with all his strength. At last his father and mot=
her
were aroused by it, and ran to the room and looked in through the opening in
the door. When they saw that a wolf was inside, they ran away, and the husb=
and
fetched his axe, and the wife the scythe. "Stay behind," said the
man, when they entered the room. "When I have given him a blow, if he =
is
not killed by it, thou must cut him down and hew his body to pieces." =
Then
Thumbling heard his parents, voices and cried, "Dear father, I am here=
; I
am in the wolf's body." Said the father, full of joy, "Thank God,=
our
dear child has found us again," and bade the woman take away her scyth=
e,
that Thumbling might not be hurt with it. After that he raised his arm, and
struck the wolf such a blow on his head that he fell down dead, and then th=
ey
got knives and scissors and cut his body open and drew the little fellow fo=
rth.
"Ah," said the father, "what sorrow we have gone through for=
thy
sake." "Yes father, I have gone about the world a great deal. Tha=
nk
heaven, I breathe fresh air again!" "Where hast thou been,
then?" "Ah, father, I have been in a mouse's hole, in a cow's
stomach, and then in a wolf's; now I will stay with you." "And we
will not sell thee again, no, not for all the riches in the world," sa=
id
his parents, and they embraced and kissed their dear Thumbling. They gave h=
im
to eat and to drink, and had some new clothes made for him, for his own had
been spoiled on his journey.
There
was once on a time an old fox with nine tails, who believed that his wife w=
as
not faithful to him, and wished to try her. He stretched himself out under =
the
bench, did not move a limb, and behaved as if he were stone dead. Mrs. Fox =
went
up to her room, shut herself in, and her maid, Miss Cat, sat by the fire, a=
nd
did the cooking. When it became known that the old fox was dead, wooers
presented themselves. The maid heard some one standing at the house-door,
knocking. She went and opened it, and it was a young fox, who said,
"What may you be about, Miss C= at? Do you sleep or do you wake?"<= o:p>
She
answered,
"I am not sleeping, I am wakin=
g, Wouldst thou know what I am making?=
I am boiling warm beer with butter =
so
nice, Will the gentleman ente=
r and
drink some likewise?"
"No,
thank you, miss," said the fox, "what is Mrs. Fox doing?" Th=
e maid
replied,
"She sits all alone, And makes her moan, Weeping her little eyes quite red, = Because old Mr. Fox is dead."<= o:p>
"Do
just tell her, miss, that a young fox is here, who would like to woo
her." "Certainly, y=
oung
sir."
The cat goes up the stairs trip, tr=
ap, The door she knocks at tap, tap, ta=
p, "Mistress Fox, are you inside?=
"
"Oh yes, my little cat,&=
quot;
she cried. "A wooer he s=
tands
at the door out there."
"Tell me what he is like, my
dear?"
"But
has he nine as beautiful tails as the late Mr. Fox?" "Oh, no,&quo=
t; answered
the cat, "he has only one."
"Then
I will not have him." Miss Cat went downstairs and sent the wooer
away. Soon afterwards there w=
as
another knock, and another fox was at the door who wished to woo Mrs. Fox. =
He
had two tails, but he did not fare better than the first. After this still =
more
came, each with one tail more than the other, but they were all turned away=
, until
at last one came who had nine tails, like old Mr. Fox. When the widow heard that, she said
joyfully to the cat,
"Now open the gates and doors =
all wide,
And carry old Mr. Fox
outside."
But
just as the wedding was going to be solemnized, old Mr. Fox stirred under t=
he
bench, and cudgelled all the rabble, and drove them and Mrs. Fox out of the
house.
When
old Mr. Fox was dead, the wolf came as a wooer, and knocked at the door, and
the cat who was servant to Mrs. Fox, opened it for him. The wolf greeted he=
r,
and said,
"Good day, Mrs. Cat of Kehrewi=
t, "How comes it that alone you s=
it? What are you making good?"
The
cat replied,
"In milk I'm breaking bread so
sweet, Will the gentleman ple=
ase
come in and eat?"
"No,
thank you, Mrs. Cat," answered the wolf. "Is Mrs. Fox not at
home?"
The
cat said,
"She sits upstairs in her room=
, Bewailing her sorrowful doom,
Bewailing her trouble so sore, For old Mr. Fox is no more."
The
wolf answered,
"If she's in want of a husband=
now, Then will it please her to step
below?" The cat runs qui=
ckly
up the stair, And lets her ta=
il fly
here and there, Until she com=
es to
the parlour door.
With her five gold rings at the doo=
r she
knocks, "Are you within,=
good
Mistress Fox? If you're in wa=
nt of
a husband now,
Then will it please you to step bel=
ow?
Mrs.
Fox asked, "Has the gentleman red stockings on' and has he a pointed m=
outh?"
"No," answered the cat. "Then he won't do for me."
When
the wolf was gone, came a dog, a stag, a hare, a bear, a lion, and all the
beasts of the forest, one after the other. But one of the good points which=
old
Mr. Fox had possessed, was always lacking, and the cat had continually to s=
end
the wooers away. At length came a young fox. Then Mrs. Fox said, "Has =
the
gentleman red stockings on, and has he a little pointed mouth?"
"Yes," said the cat, "he has." "Then let him come
upstairs," said Mrs. Fox, and ordered the servant to prepare the
wedding-feast.
"Sweep me the room as clean as=
you
can, Up with the window, flin=
g out
my old man! For many a fine f=
at
mouse he brought, Yet of his =
wife
he never thought, But ate up =
every
one he caught."
Then
the wedding was solemnized with young Mr. Fox, and there was much rejoicing=
and
dancing; and if they have not left off, they are dancing still.
A
shoemaker, by no fault of his own, had become so poor that at last he had
nothing left but leather for one pair of shoes. So in the evening, he cut o=
ut
the shoes which he wished to begin to make the next morning, and as he had a
good conscience, he lay down quietly in his bed, commended himself to God, =
and
fell asleep. In the morning, after he had said his prayers, and was just go=
ing
to sit down to work, the two shoes stood quite finished on his table. He was
astounded, and knew not what to say to it. He took the shoes in his hands to
observe them closer, and they were so neatly made that there was not one bad
stitch in them, just as if they were intended as a masterpiece. Soon after,=
a
buyer came in, and as the shoes pleased him so well, he paid more for them =
than
was customary, and, with the money, the shoemaker was able to purchase leat=
her
for two pairs of shoes. He cut them out at night, and next morning was abou=
t to
set to work with fresh courage; but he had no need to do so, for, when he g=
ot
up, they were already made, and buyers also were not wanting, who gave him
money enough to buy leather for four pairs of shoes. The following morning,
too, he found the four pairs made; and so it went on constantly, what he cut
out in the evening was finished by the morning, so that he soon had his hon=
est
independence again, and at last became a wealthy man. Now it befell that one
evening not long before Christmas, when the man had been cutting out, he sa=
id
to his wife, before going to bed, "What think you if we were to stay up
to-night to see who it is that lends us this helping hand?" The woman
liked the idea, and lighted a candle, and then they hid themselves in a cor=
ner
of the room, behind some clothes which were hanging up there, and watched. =
When
it was midnight, two pretty little naked men came, sat down by the shoemake=
r's
table, took all the work which was cut out before them and began to stitch,=
and
sew, and hammer so skilfully and so quickly with their little fingers that =
the
shoemaker could not turn away his eyes for astonishment. They did not stop
until all was done, and stood finished on the table, and they ran quickly a=
way.
Next
morning the woman said, "The little men have made us rich, and we real=
ly
must show that we are grateful for it. They run about so, and have nothing =
on,
and must be cold. I'll tell thee what I'll do: I will make them little shir=
ts,
and coats, and vests, and trousers, and knit both of them a pair of stockin=
gs,
and do thou, too, make them two little pairs of shoes." The man said,
"I shall be very glad to do it;" and one night, when everything w=
as
ready, they laid their presents all together on the table instead of the
cut-out work, and then concealed themselves to see how the little men would
behave. At midnight they came bounding in, and wanted to get to work at onc=
e,
but as they did not find any leather cut out, but only the pretty little
articles of clothing, they were at first astonished, and then they showed
intense delight. They dressed themselves with the greatest rapidity, putting
the pretty clothes on, and singing,
"Now we are boys so fine to se=
e, Why should we longer cobblers be?&q=
uot;
Then
they danced and skipped and leapt over chairs and benches. At last they dan=
ced
out of doors. From that time forth they came no more, but as long as the
shoemaker lived all went well with him, and all his undertakings prospered.=
There
was once a poor servant-girl, who was industrious and cleanly, and swept the
house every day, and emptied her sweepings on the great heap in front of the
door. One morning when she was just going back to her work, she found a let=
ter
on this heap, and as she could not read, she put her broom in the corner, a=
nd
took the letter to her master and mistress, and behold it was an invitation
from the elves, who asked the girl to hold a child for them at its christen=
ing.
The girl did not know what to do, but at length, after much persuasion, and=
as
they told her that it was not right to refuse an invitation of this kind, s=
he
consented. Then three elves came and conducted her to a hollow mountain, wh=
ere
the little folks lived. Everything there was small, but more elegant and
beautiful than can be described. The baby's mother lay in a bed of black eb=
ony
ornamented with pearls, the coverlids were embroidered with gold, the cradle
was of ivory, the bath of gold. The girl stood as godmother, and then wante=
d to
go home again, but the little elves urgently entreated her to stay three da=
ys
with them. So she stayed, and passed the time in pleasure and gaiety, and t=
he
little folks did all they could to make her happy. At last she set out on h=
er
way home. Then first they filled her pockets quite full of money, and after
that they led her out of the mountain again. When she got home, she wanted =
to
begin her work, and took the broom, which was still standing in the corner,=
in her
hand and began to sweep. Then some strangers came out of the house, who ask=
ed
her who she was, and what business she had there? And she had not, as she
thought, been three days with the little men in the mountains, but seven ye=
ars,
and in the meantime her former masters had died.
A
certain mother's child had been taken away out of its cradle by the elves, =
and
a changeling with a large head and staring eyes, which would do nothing but=
eat
and drink, laid in its place. In her trouble she went to her neighbour, and
asked her advice. The neighbour said that she was to carry the changeling i=
nto
the kitchen, set it down on the hearth, light a fire, and boil some water in
two egg-shells, which would make the changeling laugh, and if he laughed, a=
ll
would be over with him. The woman did everything that her neighbour bade he=
r.
When she put the egg-shells with water on the fire, the imp said, "I a=
m as
old now as the Wester forest, but never yet have I seen any one boil anythi=
ng in
an egg-shell!" And he began to laugh at it. Whilst he was laughing, su=
ddenly
came a host of little elves, who brought the right child, set it down on the
hearth, and took the changeling away with them.
There
was once on a time a miller, who had a beautiful daughter, and as she was g=
rown
up, he wished that she was provided for, and well married. He thought, &quo=
t;If
any good suitor comes and asks for her, I will give her to him." Not l=
ong
afterwards, a suitor came, who appeared to be very rich, and as the miller =
had
no fault to find with him, he promised his daughter to him. The maiden,
however, did not like him quite so much as a girl should like the man to wh=
om
she is engaged, and had no confidence in him. Whenever she saw, or thought =
of
him, she felt a secret horror. Once he said to her, "Thou art my
betrothed, and yet thou hast never once paid me a visit." The maiden
replied, "I know not where thy house is." Then said the bridegroo=
m,
"My house is out there in the dark forest." She tried to excuse herself and sa=
id she
could not find the way there. The bridegroom said, "Next Sunday thou m=
ust
come out there to me; I have already invited the guests, and I will strew a=
shes
in order that thou mayst find thy way through the forest." When Sunday
came, and the maiden had to set out on her way, she became very uneasy, she
herself knew not exactly why, and to mark her way she filled both her pocke=
ts
full of peas and lentils. Ashes were strewn at the entrance of the forest, =
and
these she followed, but at every step she threw a couple of peas on the gro=
und.
She walked almost the whole day until she reached the middle of the forest,
where it was the darkest, and there stood a solitary house, which she did n=
ot
like, for it looked so dark and dismal. She went inside it, but no one was =
within,
and the most absolute stillness reigned. Suddenly a voice cried,
"Turn back, turn back, young m=
aiden
dear, 'Tis a murderer's house=
you
enter here."
The
maiden looked up, and saw that the voice came from a bird, which was hangin=
g in
a cage on the wall. Again it cried,
"Turn back, turn back, young m=
aiden
dear, 'Tis a murderer's house=
you
enter here."
Then
the young maiden went on farther from one room to another, and walked throu=
gh
the whole house, but it was entirely empty and not one human being was to be
found. At last she came to the the cellar, and there sat an extremely aged
woman, whose head shook constantly. "Can you not tell me," said t=
he
maiden, "if my betrothed lives here?"
"Alas,
poor child," replied the old woman, "whither hast thou come? Thou=
art
in a murderer's den. Thou thinkest thou art a bride soon to be married, but
thou wilt keep thy wedding with death. Look, I have been forced to put a gr=
eat
kettle on there, with water in it, and when they have thee in their power, =
they
will cut thee to pieces without mercy, will cook thee, and eat thee, for th=
ey
are eaters of human flesh. If I do not have compassion on thee, and save th=
ee,
thou art lost."
Thereupon
the old woman led her behind a great hogshead where she could not be seen.
"Be as still as a mouse," said she, "do not make a sound, or
move, or all will be over with thee. At night, when the robbers are asleep,=
we
will escape; I have long waited for an opportunity." Hardly was this d=
one,
than the godless crew came home. They dragged with them another young girl.
They were drunk, and paid no heed to her screams and lamentations. They gave
her wine to drink, three glasses full, one glass of white wine, one glass of
red, and a glass of yellow, and with this her heart burst in twain. Thereup=
on
they tore off her delicate raiment, laid her on a table, cut her beautiful =
body
in pieces and strewed salt thereon. The poor bride behind the cask trembled=
and
shook, for she saw right well what fate the robbers had destined for her. O=
ne
of them noticed a gold ring on the little finger of the murdered girl, and =
as
it would not come off at once, he took an axe and cut the finger off, but it
sprang up in the air, away over the cask and fell straight into the bride's=
bosom.
The robber took a candle and wanted to look for it, but could not find it. =
Then
another of them said, "Hast thou looked behind the great hogshead?&quo=
t;
But the old woman cried, "Come and get something to eat, and leave off
looking till the morning, the finger won't run away from you."
Then
the robbers said, "The old woman is right," and gave up their sea=
rch,
and sat down to eat, and the old woman poured a sleeping-draught in their w=
ine,
so that they soon lay down in the cellar, and slept and snored. When the br=
ide
heard that, she came out from behind the hogshead, and had to step over the
sleepers, for they lay in rows on the ground, and great was her terror lest=
she
should waken one of them. But God helped her, and she got safely over. The =
old
woman went up with her, opened the doors, and they hurried out of the
murderers' den with all the speed in their power. The wind had blown away t=
he
strewn ashes, but the peas and lentils had sprouted and grown up, and showed
them the way in the moonlight. They walked the whole night, until in the
morning they arrived at the mill, and then the maiden told her father
everything exactly as it had happened.
When
the day came when the wedding was to be celebrated, the bridegroom appeared,
and the Miller had invited all his relations and friends. As they sat at ta=
ble,
each was bidden to relate something. The bride sat still, and said
nothing. Then said the brideg=
room
to the bride, "Come, my darling, dost thou know nothing? Relate someth=
ing
to us like the rest." She replied, "Then I will relate a dream. I=
was
walking alone through a wood, and at last I came to a house, in which no li=
ving
soul was, but on the wall there was a bird in a cage which cried,
"Turn back, turn back, young m=
aiden
dear, 'Tis a murderer's house=
you
enter here."
And
this it cried once more. 'My darling, I only dreamt this. Then I went throu=
gh
all the rooms, and they were all empty, and there was something so horrible
about them! At last I went down into the cellar, and there sat a very very =
old
woman, whose head shook; I asked her, 'Does my bridegroom live in this hous=
e?
She answered, 'Alas poor child, thou hast got into a murderer's den, thy
bridegroom does live here, but he will hew thee in pieces, and kill thee, a=
nd
then he will cook thee, and eat thee.' My darling, I only dreamt this. But =
the
old woman hid me behind a great hogshead, and, scarcely was I hidden, when =
the robbers
came home, dragging a maiden with them, to whom they gave three kinds of wi=
ne
to drink, white, red, and yellow, with which her heart broke in twain. My
darling, I only dreamt this. Thereupon they pulled off her pretty clothes, =
and
hewed her fair body in pieces on a table, and sprinkled them with salt. My
darling, I only dreamt this. And one of the robbers saw that there was stil=
l a
ring on her little finger, and as it was hard to draw off, he took an axe a=
nd
cut it off, but the finger sprang up in the air, and sprang behind the great
hogshead, and fell in my bosom. And there is the finger with the ring!"
And with these words she drew it forth, and showed it to those present.
The
robber, who had during this story become as pale as ashes, leapt up and wan=
ted
to escape, but the guests held him fast, and delivered him over to
justice. Then he and his whole
troop were executed for their infamous deeds.
There
were once a cock and a hen who wanted to take a journey together. So the co=
ck
built a beautiful carriage, which had four red wheels, and harnessed four m=
ice
to it. The hen seated herself in it with the cock, and they drove away
together. Not long afterwards they met a cat who said, "Where are you
going?" The cock replied,
"We are going to the house of Herr Korbes." "Take me with
you," said the cat. The cock answered, "Most willingly, get up
behind, lest you fall off in front. Take great care not to dirty my little =
red
wheels. And you little wheels, roll on, and you little mice pipe out, as we=
go
forth on our way to the house of Herr Korbes."
After
this came a millstone, then an egg, then a duck, then a pin, and at last a
needle, who all seated themselves in the carriage, and drove with them. Whe=
n,
however, they reached the house of Herr Korbes, Herr Korbes was not there.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The mice drew the carriage into the
barn, the hen flew with the cock upon a perch. The cat sat down by the hear=
th, the
duck on the well-pole. The egg rolled itself into a towel, the pin stuck it=
self
into the chair-cushion, the needle jumped on to the bed in the middle of the
pillow, and the millstone laid itself over the door. Then Herr Korbes came
home, went to the hearth, and was about to light the fire, when the cat thr=
ew a
quantity of ashes in his face. He ran into the kitchen in a great hurry to =
wash
it off, and the duck splashed some water in his face. He wanted to dry it w=
ith
the towel, but the egg rolled up against him, broke, and glued up his eyes.=
He
wanted to rest, and sat down in the chair, and then the pin pricked him. He
fell in a passion, and threw himself on his bed, but as soon as he laid his
head on the pillow, the needle pricked him, so that he screamed aloud, and =
was just
going to run out into the wide world in his rage, but when he came to the
house-door, the millstone leapt down and struck him dead. Herr Korbes must =
have
been a very wicked man!
A poor
man had so many children that he had already asked every one in the world t=
o be
godfather, and when still another child was born, no one else was left whom=
he
could invite. He knew not what to do, and, in his perplexity, he lay down a=
nd
fell asleep. Then he dreamt that he was to go outside the gate, and ask the=
first
person who met him to be godfather. When he awoke, he determined to obey his
dream, and went outside the gate, and asked the first person who came up to=
him
to be godfather. The stranger presented him with a little glass of water, a=
nd
said, "This is a wonderful water, with it thou canst heal the sick, on=
ly
thou must see where Death is standing. If he is standing by the patient's h=
ead,
give the patient some of the water and he will be healed, but if Death is
standing by his feet, all trouble will be in vain, for the sick man must
die." From this time forth, the man could always say whether a patient
could be saved or not, and became famous for his skill, and earned a great =
deal
of money. Once he was called in to the child of the King, and when he enter=
ed,
he saw death standing by the child's head and cured it with the water, and =
he
did the same a second time, but the third time Death was standing by its fe=
et,
and then he knew the child was forced to die.
Once
the man thought he would visit the godfather, and tell him how he had succe=
eded
with the water. But when he entered the house, it was such a strange
establishment! On the first flight of stairs, the broom and shovel were
disputing, and knocking each other about violently. He asked them, "Wh=
ere
does the godfather live?" The broom replied, "One flight of stairs
higher up." When he came to the second flight, he saw a heap of dead
fingers lying. He asked, "Where does the godfather live?" One of =
the fingers
replied, "One flight of stairs higher." On the third flight lay a
heap of dead heads, which again directed him to the flight beyond. On the
fourth flight, he saw fishes on the fire, which frizzled in the pans and ba=
ked
themselves. They, too, said, "One flight of stairs higher." And w=
hen
he had ascended the fifth, he came to the door of a room and peeped through=
the
keyhole, and there he saw the godfather who had a pair of long horns. When =
he
opened the door and went in, the godfather got into bed in a great hurry and
covered himself up. Then said the man, "Sir godfather, what a strange
household you have! When I came to your first flight of stairs, the shovel =
and
broom were quarreling, and beating each other violently."
"How
stupid you are!" said the godfather. "That was the boy and the ma=
id talking
to each other." "But on the second flight I saw dead fingers lyin=
g."
"Oh, how silly you are! Those were some roots of scorzonera."
"On the third flight lay a heap of dead men's heads." "Fooli=
sh
man, those were cabbages." "On the fourth flight, I saw fishes in=
a
pan, which were hissing and baking themselves." When he had said that, the fishes =
came and
served themselves up. "And when I got to the fifth flight, I peeped th=
rough
the keyhole of a door, and there, godfather, I saw you, and you had long, l=
ong
horns." "Oh, that is a lie!" The man became alarmed, and ran
out, and if he had not, who knows what the godfather would have done to him=
.
There
was once a little girl who was obstinate and inquisitive, and when her pare=
nts
told her to do anything, she did not obey them, so how could she fare well?=
One
day she said to her parents, "I have heard so much of Frau Trude, I wi=
ll
go to her some day. People say that everything about her does look so stran=
ge,
and that there are such odd things in her house, that I have become quite
curious!" Her parents absolutely forbade her, and said, "Frau Tru=
de
is a bad woman, who does wicked things, and if thou goest to her; thou art =
no
longer our child." But the maiden did not let herself be turned aside =
by
her parent's prohibition, and still went to Frau Trude. And when she got to
her, Frau Trude said, "Why art thou so pale?" "Ah," she
replied, and her whole body trembled, "I have been so terrified at wha=
t I
have seen." "What hast thou seen?" "I saw a black man on
your steps." "That was a collier." "Then I saw a green =
man."
"That was a huntsman." "After that I saw a blood-red man.&qu=
ot;
"That was a butcher." "Ah, Frau Trude, I was terrified; I lo=
oked
through the window and saw not you, but, as I verily believe, the devil him=
self
with a head of fire." "Oho!" said she, "then thou hast =
seen
the witch in her proper costume. I have been waiting for thee, and wanting =
thee
a long time already; thou shalt give me some light." Then she changed =
the girl
into a block of wood, and threw it into the fire. And when it was in full b=
laze
she sat down close to it, and warmed herself by it, and said, "That sh=
ines
bright for once in a way."
A poor
man had twelve children and was forced to work night and day to give them e=
ven
bread. When therefore the thirteenth came into the world, he knew not what =
to
do in his trouble, but ran out into the great highway, and resolved to ask =
the
first person whom he met to be godfather. The first to meet him was the good
God who already knew what filled his heart, and said to him, "Poor man=
, I
pity thee. I will hold thy child at its christening, and will take charge o=
f it
and make it happy on earth." The man said, "Who art thou?"
"I am God." "Then I do not desire to have thee for a godfath=
er,"
said the man; "thou givest to the rich, and leavest the poor to
hunger." Thus spoke the man, for he did not know how wisely God apport=
ions
riches and poverty. He turned therefore away from the Lord, and went farthe=
r.
Then the Devil came to him and said, "What seekest thou? If thou wilt =
take
me as a godfather for thy child, I will give him gold in plenty and all the
joys of the world as well." The man asked, "Who art thou?"
"I am the Devil." "Then I do not desire to have thee for god=
father,"
said the man; "thou deceivest men and leadest them astray." He we=
nt
onwards, and then came Death striding up to him with withered legs, and sai=
d,
"Take me as godfather."
The man asked, "Who art thou?" "I am Death, and I make
all equal." Then said the man, "Thou art the right one, thou take=
st
the rich as well as the poor, without distinction; thou shalt be
godfather." Death answered, "I will make thy child rich and famou=
s, for
he who has me for a friend can lack nothing." The man said, "Next=
Sunday
is the christening; be there at the right time." Death appeared as he =
had
promised, and stood godfather quite in the usual way.
When
the boy had grown up, his godfather one day appeared and bade him go with h=
im.
He led him forth into a forest, and showed him a herb which grew there, and
said, "Now shalt thou receive thy godfather's present. I make thee a
celebrated physician. When thou art called to a patient, I will always appe=
ar
to thee. If I stand by the head of the sick man, thou mayst say with confid=
ence
that thou wilt make him well again, and if thou givest him of this herb he =
will
recover; but if I stand by the patient's feet, he is mine, and thou must say
that all remedies are in vain, and that no physician in the world could save
him. But beware of using the herb against my will, or it might fare ill with
thee."
It was
not long before the youth was the most famous physician in the whole world.
"He had only to look at the patient and he knew his condition at once,=
and
if he would recover, or must needs die." So they said of him, and from=
far
and wide people came to him, sent for him when they had any one ill, and ga=
ve
him so much money that he soon became a rich man. Now it so befell that the
King became ill, and the physician was summoned, and was to say if recovery
were possible. But when he came to the bed, Death was standing by the feet =
of
the sick man, and the herb did not grow which could save him. "If I co=
uld
but cheat Death for once," thought the physician, "he is sure to =
take
it ill if I do, but, as I am his godson, he will shut one eye; I will risk
it." He therefore took up the sick man, and laid him the other way, so
that now Death was standing by his head. Then he gave the King some of the
herb, and he recovered and grew healthy again. But Death came to the physic=
ian,
looking very black and angry, threatened him with his finger, and said, &qu=
ot;Thou
hast overreached me; this time I will pardon it, as thou art my godson; but=
if
thou venturest it again, it will cost thee thy neck, for I will take thee
thyself away with me."
Soon
afterwards the King's daughter fell into a severe illness. She was his only
child, and he wept day and night, so that he began to lose the sight of his
eyes, and he caused it to be made known that whosoever rescued her from dea=
th
should be her husband and inherit the crown. When the physician came to the
sick girl's bed, he saw Death by her feet. He ought to have remembered the
warning given by his godfather, but he was so infatuated by the great beaut=
y of
the King's daughter, and the happiness of becoming her husband, that he flu=
ng
all thought to the winds. He did not see that Death was casting angry glanc=
es
on him, that he was raising his hand in the air, and threatening him with h=
is withered
fist. He raised up the sick girl, and placed her head where her feet had la=
in.
Then he gave her some of the herb, and instantly her cheeks flushed red, and
life stirred afresh in her.
When
Death saw that for a second time he was defrauded of his own property, he
walked up to the physician with long strides, and said, "All is over w=
ith
thee, and now the lot falls on thee," and seized him so firmly with his
ice-cold hand, that he could not resist, and led him into a cave below the
earth. There he saw how thousands and thousands of candles were burning in
countless rows, some large, others half-sized, others small. Every instant =
some
were extinguished, and others again burnt up, so that the flames seemed to =
leap
hither and thither in perpetual change. "See," said Death,
"these are the lights of men's lives. The large ones belong to childre=
n,
the half-sized ones to married people in their prime, the little ones belon=
g to
old people; but children and young folks likewise have often only a tiny
candle." "Show me the light of my life," said the physician,=
and
he thought that it would be still very tall. Death pointed to a little end
which was just threatening to go out, and said, "Behold, it is
there." "Ah, dear godfather," said the horrified physician, =
"light
a new one for me, do it for love of me, that I may enjoy my life, be King, =
and
the husband of the King's beautiful daughter." "I cannot," a=
nswered
Death, "one must go out before a new one is lighted." "Then
place the old one on a new one, that will go on burning at once when the old
one has come to an end," pleaded the physician. Death behaved as if he
were going to fulfill his wish, and took hold of a tall new candle; but as =
he desired
to revenge himself, he purposely made a mistake in fixing it, and the little
piece fell down and was extinguished. Immediately the physician fell on the
ground, and now he himself was in the hands of Death.
A
certain tailor had a son, who happened to be small, and no bigger than a Th=
umb,
and on this account he was always called Thumbling. He had, however, some
courage in him, and said to his father, "Father, I must and will go out
into the world." "That's right, my son," said the old man, a=
nd
took a long darning-needle and made a knob of sealing-wax on it at the cand=
le,
"and there is a sword for thee to take with thee on the way." The=
n the
little tailor wanted to have one more meal with them, and hopped into the
kitchen to see what his lady mother had cooked for the last time. It was,
however, just dished up, and the dish stood on the hearth. Then he said,
"Mother, what is there to eat to-day?" "See for thyself," said =
his mother.
So Thumbling jumped on to the hearth, and peeped into the dish, but as he
stretched his neck in too far the steam from the food caught hold of him, a=
nd
carried him up the chimney. He rode about in the air on the steam for a whi=
le,
until at length he sank down to the ground again. Now the little tailor was
outside in the wide world, and he travelled about, and went to a master in =
his
craft, but the food was not good enough for him. "Mistress, if you give us no =
better
food," said Thumbling, "I will go away, and early to-morrow morni=
ng I
will write with chalk on the door of your house, 'Too many potatoes, too li=
ttle
meat! Farewell, Mr. Potato-King.'" "What wouldst thou have forsoo=
th,
grasshopper?" said the mistress, and grew angry, and seized a dishclot=
h,
and was just going to strike him; but my little tailor crept nimbly under a
thimble, peeped out from beneath it, and put his tongue out at the mistress.
She took up the thimble, and wanted to get hold of him, but little Thumbling
hopped into the cloth, and while the mistress was opening it out and lookin=
g for
him, he got into a crevice in the table. "Ho, ho, lady mistress,"=
cried
he, and thrust his head out, and when she began to strike him he leapt down
into the drawer. At last, however, she caught him and drove him out of the
house.
The
little tailor journeyed on and came to a great forest, and there he fell in
with a band of robbers who had a design to steal the King's treasure. When =
they
saw the little tailor, they thought, "A little fellow like that can cr=
eep
through a key-hole and serve as picklock to us." "Hollo," cr=
ied
one of them, "thou giant Goliath, wilt thou go to the treasure-chamber
with us? Thou canst slip thyself in and throw out the money." Thumbling
reflected a while, and at length he said, "yes," and went with th=
em
to the treasure-chamber. Then he looked at the doors above and below, to se=
e if
there was any crack in them. It was not long before he espied one which was
broad enough to let him in. He was therefore about to get in at once, but o=
ne
of the two sentries who stood before the door, observed him, and said to the
other, "What an ugly spider is creeping there; I will kill it."
"Let the poor creature alone," said the other; "it has done =
thee
no harm." Then Thumbling got safely through the crevice into the
treasure-chamber, opened the window beneath which the robbers were standing,
and threw out to them one thaler after another. When the little tailor was =
in
the full swing of his work, he heard the King coming to inspect his
treasure-chamber, and crept hastily into a hiding-place. The King noticed t=
hat
several solid thalers were missing, but could not conceive who could have
stolen them, for locks and bolts were in good condition, and all seemed well
guarded. Then he went away again, and said to the sentries, "Be on the
watch, some one is after the money." When therefore Thumbling recommen=
ced
his labours, they heard the money moving, and a sound of klink, klink, klin=
k.
They ran swiftly in to seize the thief, but the little tailor, who heard th=
em
coming, was still swifter, and leapt into a corner and covered himself with=
a
thaler, so that nothing could be seen of him, and at the same time he mocked
the sentries and cried, "Here am I!" The sentries ran thither, bu=
t as
they got there, he had already hopped into another corner under a thaler, a=
nd
was crying, "Ho, ho, here am I!" The watchmen sprang there in has=
te,
but Thumbling had long ago got into a third corner, and was crying, "H=
o,
ho, here am I!" And thus he made fools of them, and drove them so long
round about the treasure-chamber that they were weary and went away. Then by
degrees he threw all the thalers out, dispatching the last with all his mig=
ht, then
hopped nimbly upon it, and flew down with it through the window. The robbers
paid him great compliments. "Thou art a valiant hero," said they;=
"wilt
thou be our captain?"
Thumbling,
however, declined, and said he wanted to see the world first. They now divi=
ded
the booty, but the little tailor only asked for a kreuzer because he could =
not
carry more.
Then
he once more buckled on his sword, bade the robbers goodbye, and took to the
road. First, he went to work with some masters, but he had no liking for th=
at,
and at last he hired himself as man-servant in an inn. The maids, however,
could not endure him, for he saw all they did secretly, without their seeing
him, and he told their master and mistress what they had taken off the plat=
es,
and carried away out of the cellar, for themselves. Then said they, "W=
ait,
and we will pay thee off!" and arranged with each other to play him a
trick. Soon afterwards when one of the maids was mowing in the garden, and =
saw
Thumbling jumping about and creeping up and down the plants, she mowed him =
up
quickly with the grass, tied all in a great cloth, and secretly threw it to=
the
cows. Now amongst them there was a great black one, who swallowed him down
without hurting him. Down bel=
ow,
however, it pleased him ill, for it was quite dark, neither was any candle
burning. When the cow was being milked he cried,
"Strip, strap, strull, Will the pail soon be full?"
But
the noise of the milking prevented his being understood. After this the mas=
ter
of the house came into the cow-byre and said, "That cow shall be killed
to-morrow." Then Thumbling was so alarmed that he cried out in a clear
voice, "Let me out first, for I am shut up inside her." The master
heard that quite well, but did not know from whence the voice came. "W=
here
art thou?" asked he. "In the black one," answered Thumbling,=
but
the master did not understand what that meant, and went out.
Next
morning the cow was killed. Happily Thumbling did not meet with one blow at=
the
cutting up and chopping; he got among the sausage-meat. And when the butcher
came in and began his work, he cried out with all his might, "Don't ch=
op
too deep, don't chop too deep, I am amongst it." No one heard this bec=
ause
of the noise of the chopping-knife. Now poor Thumbling was in trouble, but
trouble sharpens the wits, and he sprang out so adroitly between the blows =
that
none of them touched him, and he escaped with a whole skin. But still he co=
uld
not get away, there was nothing for it but to let himself be thrust into a
black-pudding with the bits of bacon. His quarters there were rather confin=
ed,
and besides that he was hung up in the chimney to be smoked, and there time=
did
hang terribly heavy on his hands.
At
length in winter he was taken down again, as the black-pudding had to be set
before a guest. When the hostess was cutting it in slices, he took care not=
to
stretch out his head too far lest a bit of it should be cut off; at last he=
saw
his opportunity, cleared a passage for himself, and jumped out.
The little tailor, however, would not stay any longer in a house where he fared= so ill, so at once set out on his journey again. But his liberty did not last long. In the open country he met with a fox who snapped him up in a fit of absence. "Hollo, Mr. Fox," cried the little tailor, "it is I= who am sticking in your throat, set me at liberty again." "Thou art right," answered the fox. "Thou art next to nothing for me, but i= f thou wilt promise me the fowls in thy father's yard I will let thee go." &q= uot;With all my heart," replied Thumbling. "Thou shalt have all the cocks = and hens, that I promise thee." Then the fox let him go again, and himself carried him home. When the fa= ther once more saw his dear son, he willingly gave the fox all the fowls which he had. "For this I likewise bring thee a handsome bit of money," sa= id Thumbling, and gave his father the kreuzer which he earned on his travels.<= o:p>
"But
why did the fox get the poor chickens to eat?" "Oh, you goose, yo=
ur father
would surely love his child far more than the fowls in the yard!"
There was
once a wizard who used to take the form of a poor man, and went to houses a=
nd
begged, and caught pretty girls. No one knew whither he carried them, for t=
hey
were never seen more. One day he appeared before the door of a man who had
three pretty daughters; he looked like a poor weak beggar, and carried a ba=
sket
on his back, as if he meant to collect charitable gifts in it. He begged fo=
r a
little food, and when the eldest daughter came out and was just reaching hi=
m a
piece of bread, he did but touch her, and she was forced to jump into his
basket. Thereupon he hurried away with long strides, and carried her away i=
nto
a dark forest to his house, which stood in the midst of it. Everything in t=
he
house was magnificent; he gave her whatsoever she could possibly desire, an=
d said,
"My darling, thou wilt certainly be happy with me, for thou hast every=
thing
thy heart can wish for." This lasted a few days, and then he said, &qu=
ot;I
must journey forth, and leave thee alone for a short time; there are the ke=
ys
of the house; thou mayst go everywhere and look at everything except into o=
ne
room, which this little key here opens, and there I forbid thee to go on pa=
in
of death." He likewise gave her an egg and said, "Preserve the egg
carefully for me, and carry it continually about with thee, for a great
misfortune would arise from the loss of it."
She
took the keys and the egg, and promised to obey him in everything. When he =
was
gone, she went all round the house from the bottom to the top, and examined
everything. The rooms shone with silver and gold, and she thought she had n=
ever
seen such great splendour. At length she came to the forbidden door; she wi=
shed
to pass it by, but curiosity let her have no rest. She examined the key, it
looked just like any other; she put it in the keyhole and turned it a littl=
e,
and the door sprang open. But what did she see when she went in? A great bl=
oody
basin stood in the middle of the room, and therein lay human beings, dead a=
nd
hewn to pieces, and hard by was a block of wood, and a gleaming axe lay upon
it. She was so terribly alarmed that the egg which she held in her hand fell
into the basin. She got it out and washed the blood off, but in vain, it
appeared again in a moment. She washed and scrubbed, but she could not get =
it
out.
It was
not long before the man came back from his journey, and the first things wh=
ich
he asked for were the key and the egg. She gave them to him, but she trembl=
ed
as she did so, and he saw at once by the red spots that she had been in the
bloody chamber. "Since thou hast gone into the room against my will,&q=
uot;
said he, "thou shalt go back into it against thine own. Thy life is
ended." He threw her down, dragged her thither by her hair, cut her he=
ad
off on the block, and hewed her in pieces so that her blood ran on the grou=
nd.
Then he threw her into the basin with the rest.
"Now
I will fetch myself the second," said the wizard, and again he went to=
the
house in the shape of a poor man, and begged. Then the second daughter brou=
ght
him a piece of bread; he caught her like the first, by simply touching her,=
and
carried her away. She did not fare better than her sister. She allowed hers=
elf
to be led away by her curiosity, opened the door of the bloody chamber, loo=
ked
in, and had to atone for it with her life on the wizard's return. Then he w=
ent
and brought the third sister, but she was clever and crafty. When he had gi=
ven
her the keys and the egg, and had left her, she first put the egg away with=
great
care, and then she examined the house, and at last went into the forbidden
room. Alas, what did she behold! Both her sisters lay there in the basin,
cruelly murdered, and cut in pieces. But she began to gather their limbs
together and put them in order, head, body, arms and legs. And when nothing
further was wanting the limbs began to move and unite themselves together, =
and
both the maidens opened their eyes and were once more alive. Then they rejo=
iced
and kissed and caressed each other.
On his
arrival, the man at once demanded the keys and the egg, and as he could
perceive no trace of any blood on it, he said, "Thou hast stood the te=
st,
thou shalt be my bride." He now had no longer any power over her, and =
was
forced to do whatsoever she desired. "Oh, very well," said she, &=
quot;thou
shalt first take a basketful of gold to my father and mother, and carry it
thyself on thy back; in the meantime I will prepare for the wedding." =
Then
she ran to her sisters, whom she had hidden in a little chamber, and said,
"The moment has come when I can save you. The wretch shall himself car=
ry
you home again, but as soon as you are at home send help to me." She p=
ut
both of them in a basket and covered them quite over with gold, so that not=
hing
of them was to be seen, then she called in the wizard and said to him,
"Now carry the basket away, but I shall look through my little window =
and
watch to see if thou stoppest on the way to stand or to rest."
The
wizard raised the basket on his back and went away with it, but it weighed =
him
down so heavily that the perspiration streamed from his face. Then he sat d=
own
and wanted to rest awhile, but immediately one of the girls in the basket
cried, "I am looking through my little window, and I see that thou art
resting. Wilt thou go on at once?" He thought it was his bride who was
calling that to him; and got up on his legs again. Once more he was going to
sit down, but instantly she cried, "I am looking through my little win=
dow,
and I see that thou art resting. Wilt thou go on directly?" And whenev=
er
he stood still, she cried this, and then he was forced to go onwards, until=
at
last, groaning and out of breath, he took the basket with the gold and the =
two
maidens into their parents' house. At home, however, the bride prepared the
marriage-feast, and sent invitations to the friends of the wizard. Then she
took a skull with grinning teeth, put some ornaments on it and a wreath of
flowers, carried it upstairs to the garret-window, and let it look out from=
thence.
When all was ready, she got into a barrel of honey, and then cut the
feather-bed open and rolled herself in it, until she looked like a wondrous
bird, and no one could recognize her. Then she went out of the house, and on
her way she met some of the wedding-guests, who asked,
"O, Fitcher's bird, how com'st=
thou
here?" "I come from
Fitcher's house quite near." "And what may the young bride =
be
doing?" "From cella=
r to
garret she's swept all clean, And
now from the window she's peeping, I ween."
At
last she met the bridegroom, who was coming slowly back. He, like the other=
s,
asked,
"O, Fitcher's bird, how com'st=
thou
here?" "I come from
Fitcher's house quite near." "And what may the young bride =
be
doing?
"From cellar to garret she's s=
wept
all clean, And now from the w=
indow
she's peeping, I ween."
The
bridegroom looked up, saw the decked-out skull, thought it was his bride, a=
nd
nodded to her, greeting her kindly. But when he and his guests had all gone
into the house, the brothers and kinsmen of the bride, who had been sent to
rescue her, arrived. They locked all the doors of the house, that no one mi=
ght escape,
set fire to it, and the wizard and all his crew had to burn.
It is
now long ago, quite two thousand years, since there was a rich man who had a
beautiful and pious wife, and they loved each other dearly. They had, howev=
er,
no children, though they wished for them very much, and the woman prayed for
them day and night, but still they had none. Now there was a court-yard in
front of their house in which was a juniper-tree, and one day in winter the
woman was standing beneath it, paring herself an apple, and while she was
paring herself the apple she cut her finger, and the blood fell on the
snow. "Ah," said the
woman, and sighed right heavily, and looked at the blood before her, and was
most unhappy, "ah, if I had but a child as red as blood and as white as
snow!" And while she thus spake, she became quite happy in her mind, a=
nd
felt just as if that were going to happen. Then she went into the house and=
a
month went by and the snow was gone, and two months, and then everything was
green, and three months, and then all the flowers came out of the earth, an=
d four
months, and then all the trees in the wood grew thicker, and the green bran=
ches
were all closely entwined, and the birds sang until the wood resounded and =
the
blossoms fell from the trees, then the fifth month passed away and she stood
under the juniper-tree, which smelt so sweetly that her heart leapt, and she
fell on her knees and was beside herself with joy, and when the sixth month=
was
over the fruit was large and fine, and then she was quite still, and the
seventh month she snatched at the juniper-berries and ate them greedily, th=
en
she grew sick and sorrowful, then the eighth month passed, and she called h=
er
husband to her, and wept and said, "If I die then bury me beneath the
juniper-tree." Then she was quite comforted and happy until the next m=
onth
was over, and then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and
when she beheld it she was so delighted that she died.
Then
her husband buried her beneath the juniper-tree, and he began to weep sore;
after some time he was more at ease, and though he still wept he could bear=
it,
and after some time longer he took another wife.
By the
second wife he had a daughter, but the first wife's child was a little son,=
and
he was as red as blood and as white as snow. When the woman looked at her
daughter she loved her very much, but then she looked at the little boy and=
it
seemed to cut her to the heart, for the thought came into her mind that he
would always stand in her way, and she was for ever thinking how she could =
get
all the fortune for her daughter, and the Evil One filled her mind with this
till she was quite wroth with the little boy, and slapped him here and cuff=
ed
him there, until the unhappy child was in continual terror, for when he came
out of school he had no peace in any place.
One
day the woman had gone upstairs to her room, and her little daughter went up
too, and said, "Mother, give me an apple." "Yes, my child,&q=
uot;
said the woman, and gave her a fine apple out of the chest, but the chest h=
ad a
great heavy lid with a great sharp iron lock. "Mother," said the
little daughter, "is brother not to have one too?" This made the
woman angry, but she said, "Yes, when he comes out of school." An=
d when
she saw from the window that he was coming, it was just as if the Devil ent=
ered
into her, and she snatched at the apple and took it away again from her
daughter, and said, "Thou shalt not have one before thy brother."
Then she threw the apple into the chest, and shut it. Then the little boy c=
ame
in at the door, and the Devil made her say to him kindly, "My son, wilt
thou have an apple?" and she looked wickedly at him. "Mother,&quo=
t;
said the little boy, "how dreadful you look! Yes, give me an apple.&qu=
ot;
Then it seemed to her as if she were forced to say to him, "Come with
me," and she opened the lid of the chest and said, "Take out an a=
pple
for thyself," and while the little boy was stooping inside, the Devil
prompted her, and crash! she shut the lid down, and his head flew off and f=
ell
among the red apples. Then she was overwhelmed with terror, and thought,
"If I could but make them think that it was not done by me!" So s=
he
went upstairs to her room to her chest of drawers, and took a white
handkerchief out of the top drawer, and set the head on the neck again, and
folded the handkerchief so that nothing could be seen, and she set him on a
chair in front of the door, and put the apple in his hand.
After
this Marlinchen came into the kitchen to her mother, who was standing by th=
e fire
with a pan of hot water before her which she was constantly stirring round.
"Mother," said Marlinchen, "brother is sitting at the door, =
and
he looks quite white and has an apple in his hand. I asked him to give me t=
he
apple, but he did not answer me, and I was quite frightened." "Go
back to him," said her mother, "and if he will not answer thee, g=
ive
him a box on the ear." So Marlinchen went to him and said, "Broth=
er,
give me the apple." But he was silent, and she gave him a box on the e=
ar,
on which his head fell down. Marlinchen was terrified, and began crying and
screaming, and ran to her mother, and said, "Alas, mother, I have knoc=
ked
my brother's head off!" and she wept and wept and could not be comfort=
ed.
"Marlinchen," said the mother, "what hast thou done? but be quiet and let no one know i=
t; it
cannot be helped now, we will make him into black-puddings." Then the
mother took the little boy and chopped him in pieces, put him into the pan =
and
made him into black puddings; but Marlinchen stood by weeping and weeping, =
and
all her tears fell into the pan and there was no need of any salt.
Then
the father came home, and sat down to dinner and said, "But where is my
son?" And the mother served up a great dish of black-puddings, and
Marlinchen wept and could not leave off. Then the father again said, "=
But
where is my son?"
"Ah," said the mother, "he has gone across the countr=
y to
his mother's great uncle; he will stay there awhile." "And what i=
s he
going to do there? He did not even say good-bye to me."
"Oh,
he wanted to go, and asked me if he might stay six weeks, he is well taken =
care
of there." "Ah," said the man, "I feel so unhappy lest =
all should
not be right. He ought to hav=
e said
good-bye to me." With that he began to eat and said, "Marlinchen,=
why
art thou crying? Thy brother will certainly come back." Then he said,
"Ah, wife, how delicious this food is, give me some more." And the
more he ate the more he wanted to have, and he said, "Give me some mor=
e,
you shall have none of it. It seems to me as if it were all mine." And=
he
ate and ate and threw all the bones under the table, until he had finished =
the
whole. But Marlinchen went away to her chest of drawers, and took her best =
silk
handkerchief out of the bottom drawer, and got all the bones from beneath t=
he
table, and tied them up in her silk handkerchief, and carried them outside =
the
door, weeping tears of blood. Then the juniper-tree began to stir itself, a=
nd the
branches parted asunder, and moved together again, just as if some one was
rejoicing and clapping his hands. At the same time a mist seemed to arise f=
rom
the tree, and in the centre of this mist it burned like a fire, and a beaut=
iful
bird flew out of the fire singing magnificently, and he flew high up in the
air, and when he was gone, the juniper-tree was just as it had been before,=
and
the handkerchief with the bones was no longer there. Marlinchen, however, w=
as
as gay and happy as if her brother were still alive. And she went merrily i=
nto
the house, and sat down to dinner and ate.
But the
bird flew away and lighted on a goldsmith's house, and began to sing,
"My mother she killed me, My father he ate me, My sister, little Marlinchen, Gathered together all my bones,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bi=
rd am
I!"
The
goldsmith was sitting in his workshop making a gold chain, when he heard the
bird which was sitting singing on his roof, and very beautiful the song see=
med
to him. He stood up, but as he crossed the threshold he lost one of his
slippers. But he went away ri=
ght up
the middle of the street with one shoe on and one sock; he had his apron on=
, and
in one hand he had the gold chain and in the other the pincers, and the sun=
was
shining brightly on the street. Then he went right on and stood still, and =
said
to the bird, "Bird," said he then, "how beautifully thou can=
st
sing! Sing me that piece again." "No," said the bird, "=
I'll
not sing it twice for nothing! Give me the golden chain, and then I will si=
ng
it again for thee." "There," said the goldsmith, "there=
is
the golden chain for thee, now sing me that song again." Then the bird
came and took the golden chain in his right claw, and went and sat in front=
of
the goldsmith, and sang,
"My mother she killed me, My father he ate me, My sister, little Marlinchen, Gathered together all my bones,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bi=
rd am
I!"
Then
the bird flew away to a shoemaker, and lighted on his roof and sang,
"My mother she killed me, My father he ate me, My sister, little Marlinchen, Gathered together all my bones,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bi=
rd am
I!"
The
shoemaker heard that and ran out of doors in his shirt sleeves, and looked =
up
at his roof, and was forced to hold his hand before his eyes lest the sun
should blind him. "Bird," said he, "how beautifully thou can=
st
sing!" Then he called in at his door, "Wife, just come outside, t=
here
is a bird, look at that bird, he just can sing well." Then he called h=
is
daughter and children, and apprentices, boys and girls, and they all came up
the street and looked at the bird and saw how beautiful he was, and what fi=
ne
red and green feathers he had, and how like real gold his neck was, and how=
the
eyes in his head shone like stars. "Bird," said the shoemaker,
"now sing me that song again." "Nay," said the bird, &q=
uot;I
do not sing twice for nothing; thou must give me something."
"Wife," said the man, "go to the garret, upon the top shelf
there stands a pair of red shoes, bring them down." Then the wife went and brought the=
shoes.
"There, bird," said the man, "now sing me that piece
again." Then the bird came and took the shoes in his left claw, and fl=
ew
back on the roof, and sang,
"My mother she killed me, My father he ate me, My sister, little Marlinchen, Gathered together all my bones,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bi=
rd am
I!"
And
when he had sung the whole he flew away. In his right claw he had the chain=
and
the shoes in his left, and he flew far away to a mill, and the mill went,
"klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp," and in the mill sat twen=
ty
miller's men hewing a stone, and cutting, hick hack, hick hack, hick hack, =
and
the mill went klipp klapp, klipp klapp, klipp klapp. Then the bird went and=
sat
on a lime-tree which stood in front of the mill, and sang,
"My mother she killed me,"=
;
Then
one of them stopped working,
"My father he ate me."
Then
two more stopped working and listened to that,
"My sister, little Marlinchen,=
"
Then
four more stopped,
"Gathered together all my bone=
s, Tied them in a silken handkerchief,=
"
Now
eight only were hewing,
"Laid them beneath"
Now
only five,
"The juniper-tree,"
And
now only one,
"Kywitt, kywitt, what a beauti=
ful
bird am I!"
Then
the last stopped also, and heard the last words. "Bird," said he,=
"how
beautifully thou singest! Let me, too, hear that. Sing that once more for
me."
"Nay,"
said the bird, "I will not sing twice for nothing. Give me the millsto=
ne,
and then I will sing it again."
"Yes,"
said he, "if it belonged to me only, thou shouldst have it."
"Yes,"
said the others, "if he sings again he shall have it." Then the b=
ird
came down, and the twenty millers all set to work with a beam and raised the
stone up. And the bird stuck =
his
neck through the hole, and put the stone on as if it were a collar, and fle=
w on
to the tree again, and sang,
"My mother she killed me, My father he ate me, My sister, little Marlinchen, Gathered together all my bones,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bi=
rd am
I!"
And
when he had done singing, he spread his wings, and in his right claw he had=
the
chain, and in his left the shoes, and round his neck the millstone, and he =
flew
far away to his father's house.
In the
room sat the father, the mother, and Marlinchen at dinner, and the father s=
aid,
"How light-hearted I feel, how happy I am!" "Nay," said=
the
mother, "I feel so uneasy, just as if a heavy storm were coming."
Marlinchen, however, sat weeping and weeping, and then came the bird flying,
and as it seated itself on the roof the father said, "Ah, I feel so tr=
uly
happy, and the sun is shining so beautifully outside, I feel just as if I w=
ere
about to see some old friend again." "Nay," said the woman,
"I feel so anxious, my teeth chatter, and I seem to have fire in my
veins." And she tore her stays open, but Marlinchen sat in a corner
crying, and held her plate before her eyes and cried till it was quite wet.
Then the bird sat on the juniper tree, and sang,
"My mother she killed me,"=
;
Then
the mother stopped her ears, and shut her eyes, and would not see or hear, =
but
there was a roaring in her ears like the most violent storm, and her eyes b=
urnt
and flashed like lightning,
"My father he ate me,"
"Ah, mother," says the man, "that is a beautiful bird! He sings so spl= endidly, and the sun shines so warm, and there is a smell just like cinnamon."<= o:p>
"My sister, little Marlinchen,=
"
Then
Marlinchen laid her head on her knees and wept without ceasing, but the man
said, "I am going out, I must see the bird quite close." "Oh=
, don't
go," said the woman, "I feel as if the whole house were shaking a=
nd
on fire." But the man went out and looked at the bird:
"Gathered together all my bone=
s, Tied them in a silken handkerchief,=
Laid them beneath the juniper tree,=
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bi=
rd am
I!"
On
this the bird let the golden chain fall, and it fell exactly round the man's
neck, and so exactly round it that it fitted beautifully. Then he went in a=
nd
said, "Just look what a fine bird that is, and what a handsome gold ch=
ain
he has given me, and how pretty he is!" But the woman was terrified, a=
nd
fell down on the floor in the room, and her cap fell off her head. Then sang
the bird once more,
"My mother she killed me."=
;
"Would
that I were a thousand feet beneath the earth so as not to hear that!"=
"My father he ate me,"
Then
the woman fell down again as if dead.
"My sister, little Marlinchen,=
"
"Ah,"
said Marlinchen, "I too will go out and see if the bird will give me
anything," and she went out.
"Gathered together all my bone=
s, Tied them in a silken handkerchief,=
"
Then
he threw down the shoes to her.
"Laid them beneath the juniper=
-tree,
Kywitt, kywitt, what a beauti=
ful
bird am I!"
Then
she was light-hearted and joyous, and she put on the new red shoes, and dan=
ced
and leaped into the house. "Ah," said she, "I was so sad whe=
n I
went out and now I am so light-hearted; that is a splendid bird, he has giv=
en
me a pair of red shoes!" "Well," said the woman, and sprang =
to
her feet and her hair stood up like flames of fire, "I feel as if the =
world
were coming to an end! I, too, will go out and see if my heart feels lighte=
r."
And as she went out at the door, crash! the bird threw down the millstone on
her head, and she was entirely crushed by it. The father and Marlinchen heard wha=
t had
happened and went out, and smoke, flames, and fire were rising from the pla=
ce,
and when that was over, there stood the little brother, and he took his fat=
her
and Marlinchen by the hand, and all three were right glad, and they went in=
to
the house to dinner, and ate.
A
farmer once had a faithful dog called Sultan, who had grown old, and lost a=
ll
his teeth, so that he could no longer hold anything fast. One day the farmer
was standing with his wife before the house-door, and said, "To-morrow=
I
intend to shoot Old Sultan, he is no longer of any use."
His
wife, who felt pity for the faithful beast, answered, "He has served u=
s so
long, and been so faithful, that we might well give him his keep."
"Eh!
what?" said the man. "You are not very sharp. He has not a tooth =
left
in his mouth, and not a thief is afraid of him; now he may be off. If he has
served us, he has had good feeding for it."
The
poor dog, who was lying stretched out in the sun not far off, had heard
everything, and was sorry that the morrow was to be his last day. He had a =
good
friend, the wolf, and he crept out in the evening into the forest to him, a=
nd
complained of the fate that awaited him. "Hark ye, gossip," said =
the
wolf, "be of good cheer, I will help you out of your trouble. I have
thought of something. To-morr=
ow,
early in the morning, your master is going with his wife to make hay, and t=
hey
will take their little child with them, for no one will be left behind in t=
he
house. They are wont, during work-time, to lay the child under the hedge in=
the
shade; you lay yourself there too, just as if you wished to guard it. Then I
will come out of the wood, and carry off the child. You must rush swiftly a=
fter
me, as if you would seize it again from me. I will let it fall, and you will
take it back to its parents, who will think that you have saved it, and wil=
l be
far too grateful to do you any harm; on the contrary, you will be in high
favor, and they will never let you want for anything again."
The
plan pleased the dog, and it was carried out just as it was arranged. The
father screamed when he saw the Wolf running across the field with his chil=
d,
but when Old Sultan brought it back, then he was full of joy, and stroked h=
im
and said, "Not a hair of yours shall be hurt, you shall eat my bread f=
ree
as long as you live." And to his wife he said, "Go home at once a=
nd
make Old Sultan some bread-sop that he will not have to bite, and bring the
pillow out of my bed, I will give him that to lie upon."
Henceforth
Old Sultan was as well off as he could wish to be.
Soon
afterwards the wolf visited him, and was pleased that everything had succee=
ded
so well. "But, gossip," said he, "you will just wink an eye =
if
when I have a chance, I carry off one of your master's fat sheep."
"Do not reckon upon that," answered the dog; "I will remain =
true
to my master; I cannot agree to that." The wolf, who thought that this co=
uld
not be spoken in earnest, came creeping about in the night and was going to
take away the sheep. But the farmer, to whom the faithful Sultan had told t=
he
wolf's plan, caught him and dressed his hide soundly with the flail. The wo=
lf
had to pack off, but he cried out to the dog, "Wait a bit, you scoundr=
el,
you shall pay for this."
The
next morning the wolf sent the boar to challenge the dog to come out into t=
he
forest so that they might settle the affair. Old Sultan could find no one to
stand by him but a cat with only three legs, and as they went out together =
the
poor cat limped along, and at the same time stretched out her tail into the=
air
with pain.
The
wolf and his friend were already on the spot appointed, but when they saw t=
heir
enemy coming they thought that he was bringing a sabre with him, for they
mistook the outstretched tail of the cat for one. And when the poor beast
hopped on its three legs, they could only think every time that it was pick=
ing
up a stone to throw at them. So they were both afraid; the wild boar crept =
into
the under-wood and the wolf jumped up a tree.
The
dog and the cat, when they came up, wondered that there was no one to be se=
en.
The wild boar, however, had not been able to hide himself altogether; and o=
ne
of his ears was still to be seen. Whilst the cat was looking carefully abou=
t,
the boar moved his ear; the cat, who thought it was a mouse moving there,
jumped upon it and bit it hard. The boar made a fearful noise and ran away,
crying out, "The guilty one is up in the tree." The dog and cat
looked up and saw the wolf, who was ashamed of having shown himself so timi=
d,
and made friends with the dog.
Once
upon a time, a certain King was hunting in a great forest, and he chased a =
wild
beast so eagerly that none of his attendants could follow him. When evening
drew near he stopped and looked around him, and then he saw that he had lost
his way. He sought a way out, but could find none. Then he perceived an aged
woman with a head which nodded perpetually, who came towards him, but she w=
as a
witch. "Good woman," said he to her, "Can you not show me th=
e way
through the forest?" "Oh, yes, Lord King," she answered,
"that I certainly can, but on one condition, and if you do not fulfil
that, you will never get out of the forest, and will die of hunger in it.&q=
uot;
"What
kind of condition is it?" asked the King.
"I
have a daughter," said the old woman, "who is as beautiful as any=
one
in the world, and well deserves to be your consort, and if you will make her
your Queen, I will show you the way out of the forest." In the anguish=
of
his heart the King consented, and the old woman led him to her little hut,
where her daughter was sitting by the fire. She received the King as if she=
had
been expecting him, and he saw that she was very beautiful, but still she d=
id
not please him, and he could not look at her without secret horror. After he
had taken the maiden up on his horse, the old woman showed him the way, and=
the
King reached his royal palace again, where the wedding was celebrated.
The
King had already been married once, and had by his first wife, seven childr=
en, six
boys and a girl, whom he loved better than anything else in the world. As he
now feared that the step-mother might not treat them well, and even do them
some injury, he took them to a lonely castle which stood in the midst of a
forest. It lay so concealed, and the way was so difficult to find that he
himself would not have found it, if a wise woman had not given him a ball of
yarn with wonderful properties. When he threw it down before him, it unroll=
ed
itself and showed him his path. The King, however, went so frequently away =
to
his dear children that the Queen observed his absence; she was curious and
wanted to know what he did when he was quite alone in the forest. She gave a
great deal of money to his servants, and they betrayed the secret to her, a=
nd
told her likewise of the ball which alone could point out the way. And now =
she knew
no rest until she had learnt where the King kept the ball of yarn, and then=
she
made little shirts of white silk, and as she had learnt the art of witchcra=
ft
from her mother, she sewed a charm inside them. And once when the King had
ridden forth to hunt, she took the little shirts and went into the forest, =
and
the ball showed her the way. The children, who saw from a distance that some
one was approaching, thought that their dear father was coming to them, and
full of joy, ran to meet him. Then she threw one of the little shirts over =
each
of them, and no sooner had the shirts touched their bodies than they were
changed into swans, and flew away over the forest. The Queen went home quite
delighted, and thought she had got rid of her step-children, but the girl h=
ad
not run out with her brothers, and the Queen knew nothing about her. Next d=
ay the
King went to visit his children, but he found no one but the little girl.
"Where are thy brothers?"
asked the King. "Alas, dear father," she answered, "t=
hey
have gone away and left me alone!" and she told him that she had seen =
from
her little window how her brothers had flown away over the forest in the sh=
ape
of swans, and she showed him the feathers, which they had let fall in the
courtyard, and which she had picked up. The King mourned, but he did not th=
ink
that the Queen had done this wicked deed, and as he feared that the girl wo=
uld
also be stolen away from him, he wanted to take her away with him. But she =
was
afraid of her step-mother, and entreated the King to let her stay just this=
one
night more in the forest castle.
The
poor girl thought, "I can no longer stay here. I will go and seek my
brothers." And when night came, she ran away, and went straight into t=
he
forest. She walked the whole =
night
long, and next day also without stopping, until she could go no farther for
weariness. Then she saw a forest-hut, and went into it, and found a room wi=
th
six little beds, but she did not venture to get into one of them, but crept
under one, and lay down on the hard ground, intending to pass the night the=
re.
Just before sunset, however, she heard a rustling, and saw six swans come f=
lying
in at the window. They alighted on the ground and blew at each other, and b=
lew
all the feathers off, and their swan's skins stripped off like a shirt. Then
the maiden looked at them and recognized her brothers, was glad and crept f=
orth
from beneath the bed. The brothers were not less delighted to see their lit=
tle
sister, but their joy was of short duration. "Here canst thou not
abide," they said to her. "This is a shelter for robbers, if they
come home and find thee, they will kill thee." "But can you not
protect me?" asked the little sister. "No," they replied,
"only for one quarter of an hour each evening can we lay aside our swa=
n's
skins and have during that time our human form; after that, we are once more
turned into swans." The little sister wept and said, "Can you not=
be
set free?" "Alas, no," they answered, "the conditions a=
re too
hard! For six years thou mayst neither speak nor laugh, and in that time th=
ou
must sew together six little shirts of starwort for us. And if one single w=
ord
falls from thy lips, all thy work will be lost." And when the brothers=
had
said this, the quarter of an hour was over, and they flew out of the window
again as swans.
The
maiden, however, firmly resolved to deliver her brothers, even if it should
cost her her life. She left the hut, went into the midst of the forest, sea=
ted
herself on a tree, and there passed the night. Next morning she went out and
gathered starwort and began to sew. She could not speak to any one, and she=
had
no inclination to laugh; she sat there and looked at nothing but her work. =
When
she had already spent a long time there it came to pass that the King of the
country was hunting in the forest, and his huntsmen came to the tree on whi=
ch
the maiden was sitting. They called to her and said, "Who art thou?&qu=
ot;
But she made no answer. "Come down to us," said they. "We wi=
ll
not do thee any harm." She only shook her head. As they pressed her
further with questions she threw her golden necklace down to them, and thou=
ght
to content them thus. They, however, did not cease, and then she threw her =
girdle
down to them, and as this also was to no purpose, her garters, and by degre=
es
everything that she had on that she could do without until she had nothing =
left
but her shift. The huntsmen, however, did not let themselves be turned asid=
e by
that, but climbed the tree and fetched the maiden down and led her before t=
he
King. The King asked, "Who art thou? What art thou doing on the
tree?" But she did not answer. He put the question in every language t=
hat
he knew, but she remained as mute as a fish. As she was so beautiful, the
King's heart was touched, and he was smitten with a great love for her. He =
put
his mantle on her, took her before him on his horse, and carried her to his
castle. Then he caused her to be dressed in rich garments, and she shone in=
her
beauty like bright daylight, but no word could be drawn from her. He placed=
her
by his side at table, and her modest bearing and courtesy pleased him so mu=
ch
that he said, "She is the one whom I wish to marry, and no other woman=
in
the world." And after some days he united himself to her.
The
King, however, had a wicked mother who was dissatisfied with this marriage =
and
spoke ill of the young Queen. "Who knows," said she, "from w=
hence
the creature who can't speak, comes? She is not worthy of a king!" Aft=
er a
year had passed, when the Queen brought her first child into the world, the=
old
woman took it away from her, and smeared her mouth with blood as she slept.
Then she went to the King and accused the Queen of being a man-eater. The King would not believe it, and=
would
not suffer any one to do her any injury.&n=
bsp;
She, however, sat continually sewing at the shirts, and cared for
nothing else. The next time, =
when
she again bore a beautiful boy, the false step-mother used the same treache=
ry,
but the King could not bring himself to give credit to her words. He said, =
"She
is too pious and good to do anything of that kind; if she were not dumb, and
could defend herself, her innocence would come to light." But when the=
old
woman stole away the newly-born child for the third time, and accused the
Queen, who did not utter one word of defence, the King could do no otherwise
than deliver her over to justice, and she was sentenced to suffer death by
fire.
When
the day came for the sentence to be executed, it was the last day of the six
years during which she was not to speak or laugh, and she had delivered her
dear brothers from the power of the enchantment. The six shirts were ready,
only the left sleeve of the sixth was wanting. When, therefore, she was led=
to
the stake, she laid the shirts on her arm, and when she stood on high and t=
he
fire was just going to be lighted, she looked around and six swans came fly=
ing
through the air towards her. Then she saw that her deliverance was near, and
her heart leapt with joy. The swans swept towards her and sank down so that=
she
could throw the shirts over them, and as they were touched by them, their
swan's skins fell off, and her brothers stood in their own bodily form befo=
re
her, and were vigorous and handsome. The youngest only lacked his left arm,=
and
had in the place of it a swan's wing on his shoulder. They embraced and kis=
sed
each other, and the Queen went to the King, who was greatly moved, and she
began to speak and said, "Dearest husband, now I may speak and declare=
to
thee that I am innocent, and falsely accused." And she told him of the
treachery of the old woman who had taken away her three children and hidden
them. Then to the great joy of the King they were brought thither, and as a
punishment, the wicked step-mother was bound to the stake, and burnt to ash=
es.
But the King and the Queen with their six brothers lived many years in
happiness and peace.
A long
time ago there were a King and Queen who said every day, "Ah, if only =
we
had a child!" but they never had one. But it happened that once when t=
he
Queen was bathing, a frog crept out of the water on to the land, and said to
her, "Your wish shall be fulfilled; before a year has gone by, you sha=
ll
have a daughter."
What
the frog had said came true, and the Queen had a little girl who was so pre=
tty
that the King could not contain himself for joy, and ordered a great
feast. He invited not only his
kindred, friends and acquaintance, but also the Wise Women, in order that t=
hey
might be kind and well-disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in his=
kingdom,
but, as he had only twelve golden plates for them to eat out of, one of them
had to be left at home.
The
feast was held with all manner of splendour and when it came to an end the =
Wise
Women bestowed their magic gifts upon the baby: one gave virtue, another
beauty, a third riches, and so on with everything in the world that one can
wish for.
When
eleven of them had made their promises, suddenly the thirteenth came in.
They
were all shocked; but the twelfth, whose good wish still remained unspoken,
came forward, and as she could not undo the evil sentence, but only soften =
it,
she said, "It shall not be death, but a deep sleep of a hundred years,
into which the princess shall fall."
The
King, who would fain keep his dear child from the misfortune, gave orders t=
hat
every spindle in the whole kingdom should be burnt. Meanwhile the gifts of =
the
Wise Women were plenteously fulfilled on the young girl, for she was so
beautiful, modest, good-natured, and wise, that everyone who saw her was bo=
und
to love her.
It
happened that on the very day when she was fifteen years old, the King and
Queen were not at home, and the maiden was left in the palace quite alone. =
So
she went round into all sorts of places, looked into rooms and bed-chambers
just as she liked, and at last came to an old tower. She climbed up the nar=
row
winding-staircase, and reached a little door. A rusty key was in the lock, =
and
when she turned it the door sprang open, and there in a little room sat an =
old
woman with a spindle, busily spinning her flax.
"Good
day, old dame," said the King's daughter; "what are you doing the=
re?"
"I am spinning," said the old woman, and nodded her head. "W=
hat sort
of thing is that, that rattles round so merrily?" said the girl, and s=
he
took the spindle and wanted to spin too. But scarcely had she touched the
spindle when the magic decree was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger with
it.
And,
in the very moment when she felt the prick, she fell down upon the bed that
stood there, and lay in a deep sleep. And this sleep extended over the whole
palace; the King and Queen who had just come home, and had entered the great
hall, began to go to sleep, and the whole of the court with them. The horse=
s,
too, went to sleep in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the pigeons upon the
roof, the flies on the wall; even the fire that was flaming on the hearth
became quiet and slept, the roast meat left off frizzling, and the cook, who
was just going to pull the hair of the scullery boy, because he had forgott=
en
something, let him go, and went to sleep. And the wind fell, and on the tre=
es
before the castle not a leaf moved again.
But
round about the castle there began to grow a hedge of thorns, which every y=
ear
became higher, and at last grew close up round the castle and all over it, =
so
that there was nothing of it to be seen, not even the flag upon the roof. B=
ut
the story of the beautiful sleeping "Briar-rose," for so the prin=
cess
was named, went about the country, so that from time to time kings' sons ca=
me
and tried to get through the thorny hedge into the castle.
But
they found it impossible, for the thorns held fast together, as if they had
hands, and the youths were caught in them, could not get loose again, and d=
ied
a miserable death.
After
long, long years a King's son came again to that country, and heard an old =
man
talking about the thorn-hedge, and that a castle was said to stand behind i=
t in
which a wonderfully beautiful princess, named Briar-rose, had been asleep f=
or a
hundred years; and that the King and Queen and the whole court were asleep
likewise. He had heard, too, from his grandfather, that many kings' sons had
already come, and had tried to get through the thorny hedge, but they had
remained sticking fast in it, and had died a pitiful death. Then the youth
said, "I am not afraid, I will go and see the beautiful Briar-rose.&qu=
ot;
The good old man might dissuade him as he would, he did not listen to his
words.
But by
this time the hundred years had just passed, and the day had come when
Briar-rose was to awake again. When the King's son came near to the
thorn-hedge, it was nothing but large and beautiful flowers, which parted f=
rom
each other of their own accord, and let him pass unhurt, then they closed a=
gain
behind him like a hedge. In the castle-yard he saw the horses and the spott=
ed
hounds lying asleep; on the roof sat the pigeons with their heads under the=
ir
wings. And when he entered the house, the flies were asleep upon the wall, =
the
cook in the kitchen was still holding out his hand to seize the boy, and the
maid was sitting by the black hen which she was going to pluck.
He
went on farther, and in the great hall he saw the whole of the court lying
asleep, and up by the throne lay the King and Queen.
Then
he went on still farther, and all was so quiet that a breath could be heard,
and at last he came to the tower, and opened the door into the little room
where Briar-rose was sleeping. There she lay, so beautiful that he could not
turn his eyes away; and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. But as soon as=
he
kissed her, Briar-rose opened her eyes and awoke, and looked at him quite
sweetly.
Then
they went down together, and the King awoke, and the Queen, and the whole
court, and looked at each other in great astonishment. And the horses in the
court-yard stood up and shook themselves; the hounds jumped up and wagged t=
heir
tails; the pigeons upon the roof pulled out their heads from under their wi=
ngs,
looked round, and flew into the open country; the flies on the wall crept
again; the fire in the kitchen burned up and flickered and cooked the meat;=
the
joint began to turn and frizzle again, and the cook gave the boy such a box=
on
the ear that he screamed, and the maid plucked the fowl ready for the spit.=
And
then the marriage of the King's son with Briar-rose was celebrated with all
splendour, and they lived contented to the end of their days.
There
was once a forester who went into the forest to hunt, and as he entered it =
he
heard a sound of screaming as if a little child were there. He followed the
sound, and at last came to a high tree, and at the top of this a little chi=
ld
was sitting, for the mother had fallen asleep under the tree with the child,
and a bird of prey had seen it in her arms, had flown down, snatched it awa=
y,
and set it on the high tree.
The
forester climbed up, brought the child down, and thought to himself, "=
Thou
wilt take him home with thee, and bring him up with thy Lina." He took=
it
home, therefore, and the two children grew up together. The one, however, w=
hich
he had found on a tree was called Fundevogel, because a bird had carried it
away. Fundevogel and Lina lov=
ed
each other so dearly that when they did not see each other they were sad.
The
forester, however, had an old cook, who one evening took two pails and bega=
n to
fetch water, and did not go once only, but many times, out to the spring. L=
ina
saw this and said, "Hark you, old Sanna, why are you fetching so much
water?" "If thou wilt never repeat it to anyone, I will tell thee
why." So Lina said, no, she would never repeat it to anyone, and then =
the
cook said, "Early to-morrow morning, when the forester is out hunting,=
I
will heat the water, and when it is boiling in the kettle, I will throw in
Fundevogel, and will boil him in it."
Betimes
next morning the forester got up and went out hunting, and when he was gone=
the
children were still in bed. Then Lina said to Fundevogel, "If thou wilt
never leave me, I too will never leave thee." Fundevogel said,
"Neither now, nor ever will I leave thee." Then said Lina, "=
Then
I will tell thee. Last night, old Sanna carried so many buckets of water in=
to
the house that I asked her why she was doing that, and she said that if I w=
ould
promise not to tell any one she would tell me, and I said I would be sure n=
ot
to tell any one, and she said that early to-morrow morning when father was =
out
hunting, she would set the kettle full of water, throw thee into it and boil
thee; but we will get up quickly, dress ourselves, and go away together.&qu=
ot;
The
two children therefore got up, dressed themselves quickly, and went away. When the water in the kettle was
boiling, the cook went into the bed-room to fetch Fundevogel and throw him =
into
it. But when she came in, and went to the beds, both the children were gone.
Then she was terribly alarmed, and she said to herself, "What shall I =
say
now when the forester comes home and sees that the children are gone? They =
must
be followed instantly to get them back again."
Then
the cook sent three servants after them, who were to run and overtake the
children. The children, however, were sitting outside the forest, and when =
they
saw from afar the three servants running, Lina said to Fundevogel, "Ne=
ver
leave me, and I will never leave thee." Fundevogel said, "Neither
now, nor ever." Then said Lina, "Do thou become a rose-tree, and I
the rose upon it." When the three servants came to the forest, nothing=
was
there but a rose-tree and one rose on it, but the children were nowhere. Th=
en
said they, "There is nothing to be done here," and they went home=
and
told the cook that they had seen nothing in the forest but a little rose-bu=
sh
with one rose on it. Then the old cook scolded and said, "You simpleto=
ns,
you should have cut the rose-bush in two, and have broken off the rose and
brought it home with you; go, and do it once." They had therefore to go
out and look for the second time. The children, however, saw them coming fr=
om a
distance. Then Lina said, "Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will neve=
r leave
thee." Fundevogel said, "Neither now, nor ever." Said Lina,
"Then do thou become a church, and I'll be the chandelier in it."=
So
when the three servants came, nothing was there but a church, with a chande=
lier
in it. They said therefore to each other, "What can we do here, let us=
go
home." When they got home, the cook asked if they had not found them; =
so
they said no, they had found nothing but a church, and that there was a
chandelier in it. And the cook scolded them and said, "You fools! why =
did
you not pull the church to pieces, and bring the chandelier home with
you?" And now the old cook herself got on her legs, and went with the
three servants in pursuit of the children. The children, however, saw from =
afar
that the three servants were coming, and the cook waddling after them. Then
said Lina, "Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will never leave thee.&q=
uot;
Then said Fundevogel, "Neither now, nor ever." Said Lina, "B=
e a
fishpond, and I will be the duck upon it." The cook, however, came up =
to
them, and when she saw the pond she lay down by it, and was about to drink =
it
up. But the duck swam quickly to her, seized her head in its beak and drew =
her
into the water, and there the old witch had to drown. Then the children went
home together, and were heartily delighted, and if they are not dead, they =
are
living still.
A King
had a daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure, but so proud and haugh=
ty
withal that no suitor was good enough for her. She sent away one after the
other, and ridiculed them as well.
Once
the King made a great feast and invited thereto, from far and near, all the
young men likely to marry. They were all marshalled in a row according to t=
heir
rank and standing; first came the kings, then the grand-dukes, then the
princes, the earls, the barons, and the gentry. Then the King's daughter was
led through the ranks, but to every one she had some objection to make; one=
was
too fat, "The wine-cask," she said. Another was too tall, "L=
ong
and thin has little in." The third was too short, "Short and thic=
k is
never quick." The fourth was too pale, "As pale as death." T=
he
fifth too red, "A fighting-cock." The sixth was not straight enou=
gh,
"A green log dried behind the stove."
So she
had something to say against every one, but she made herself especially mer=
ry
over a good king who stood quite high up in the row, and whose chin had gro=
wn a
little crooked. "Well," she cried and laughed, "he has a chin
like a thrush's beak!" and from that time he got the name of King
Thrushbeard.
But
the old King, when he saw that his daugher did nothing but mock the people,=
and
despised all the suitors who were gathered there, was very angry, and swore
that she should have for her husband the very first beggar that came to his
doors.
A few
days afterwards a fiddler came and sang beneath the windows, trying to earn=
a
small alms. When the King heard him he said, "Let him come up." So
the fiddler came in, in his dirty, ragged clothes, and sang before the King=
and
his daughter, and when he had ended he asked for a trifling gift. The King
said, "Your song has pleased me so well that I will give you my daught=
er
there, to wife."
The
King's daughter shuddered, but the King said, "I have taken an oath to
give you to the very first beggar-man, and I will keep it." All she co=
uld
say was in vain; the priest was brought, and she had to let herself be wedd=
ed
to the fiddler on the spot. When that was done the King said, "Now it =
is
not proper for you, a beggar-woman, to stay any longer in my palace, you may
just go away with your husband."
The
beggar-man led her out by the hand, and she was obliged to walk away on foot
with him. When they came to a large forest she asked, "To whom does th=
at
beautiful forest belong?" "It belongs to King Thrushbeard; if you=
had
taken him, it would have been yours." "Ah, unhappy girl that I am=
, if
I had but taken King Thrushbeard!"
Afterwards
they came to a meadow, and she asked again, "To whom does this beautif=
ul
green meadow belong?" "It belongs to King Thrushbeard; if you had
taken him, it would have been yours." "Ah, unhappy girl that I am=
, if
I had but taken King Thrushbeard!"
Then
they came to a large town, and she asked again, "To whom does this fine
large town belong?" "It belongs to King Thrushbeard; if you had t=
aken
him, it would have been yours." "Ah, unhappy girl that I am, if I=
had
but taken King Thrushbeard!"
"It
does not please me," said the fiddler, "to hear you always wishin=
g for
another husband; am I not good enough for you?" At last they came to a
very little hut, and she said, "Oh goodness! what a small house; to wh=
om
does this miserable, mean hovel belong?" The fiddler answered, "T=
hat
is my house and yours, where we shall live together."
She
had to stoop in order to go in at the low door. "Where are the servant=
s?" said the King's daughter. "Wh=
at
servants?" answered the beggar-man; "you must yourself do what you
wish to have done. Just make a fire at once, and set on water to cook my
supper, I am quite tired." But the King's daughter knew nothing about
lighting fires or cooking, and the beggar-man had to lend a hand himself to=
get
anything fairly done. When they had finished their scanty meal they went to
bed; but he forced her to get up quite early in the morning in order to look
after the house.
For a
few days they lived in this way as well as might be, and came to the end of=
all
their provisions. Then the man said, "Wife, we cannot go on any longer
eating and drinking here and earning nothing. You weave baskets." He w=
ent
out, cut some willows, and brought them home. Then she began to weave, but =
the
tough willows wounded her delicate hands.
"I
see that this will not do," said the man; "you had better spin, p=
erhaps
you can do that better." She sat down and tried to spin, but the hard
thread soon cut her soft fingers so that the blood ran down. "See,&quo=
t; said
the man, "you are fit for no sort of work; I have made a bad bargain w=
ith
you. Now I will try to make a business with pots and earthenware; you must =
sit
in the market-place and sell the ware." "Alas," thought she,=
"if
any of the people from my father's kingdom come to the market and see me
sitting there, selling, how they will mock me?" But it was of no use, =
she
had to yield unless she chose to die of hunger.
For
the first time she succeeded well, for the people were glad to buy the woma=
n's
wares because she was good-looking, and they paid her what she asked; many =
even
gave her the money and left the pots with her as well. So they lived on what
she had earned as long as it lasted, then the husband bought a lot of new
crockery. With this she sat down at the corner of the market-place, and set=
it
out round about her ready for sale. But suddenly there came a drunken hussar
galloping along, and he rode right amongst the pots so that they were all
broken into a thousand bits. She began to weep, and did now know what to do=
for
fear. "Alas! what will happen to me?" cried she; "what will =
my
husband say to this?"
She
ran home and told him of the misfortune. "Who would seat herself at a
corner of the market-place with crockery?" said the man; "leave o=
ff
crying, I see very well that you cannot do any ordinary work, so I have bee=
n to
our King's palace and have asked whether they cannot find a place for a
kitchen-maid, and they have promised me to take you; in that way you will g=
et
your food for nothing."
The
King's daughter was now a kitchen-maid, and had to be at the cook's beck and
call, and do the dirtiest work. In both her pockets she fastened a little j=
ar,
in which she took home her share of the leavings, and upon this they lived.=
It
happened that the wedding of the King's eldest son was to be celebrated, so=
the
poor woman went up and placed herself by the door of the hall to look on. When all the candles were lit, and
people, each more beautiful than the other, entered, and all was full of po=
mp
and splendour, she thought of her lot with a sad heart, and cursed the prid=
e and
haughtiness which had humbled her and brought her to so great poverty.
The
smell of the delicious dishes which were being taken in and out reached her,
and now and then the servants threw her a few morsels of them: these she pu=
t in
her jars to take home.
All at
once the King's son entered, clothed in velvet and silk, with gold chains a=
bout
his neck. And when he saw the beautiful woman standing by the door he seized
her by the hand, and would have danced with her; but she refused and shrank
with fear, for she saw that it was King Thrushbeard, her suitor whom she had
driven away with scorn. Her struggles were of no avail, he drew her into the
hall; but the string by which her pockets were hung broke, the pots fell do=
wn,
the soup ran out, and the scraps were scattered all about. And when the peo=
ple
saw it, there arose general laughter and derision, and she was so ashamed t=
hat
she would rather have been a thousand fathoms below the ground. She sprang =
to
the door and would have run away, but on the stairs a man caught her and
brought her back; and when she looked at him it was King Thrushbeard again.=
He
said to her kindly, "Do not be afraid, I and the fiddler who has been
living with you in that wretched hovel are one. For love of you I disguised
myself so; and I also was the hussar who rode through your crockery. This w=
as
all done to humble your proud spirit, and to punish you for the insolence w=
ith
which you mocked me."
Then
she wept bitterly and said, "I have done great wrong, and am not worth=
y to
be your wife." But he said, "Be comforted, the evil days are past;
now we will celebrate our wedding." Then the maids-in-waiting came and=
put
on her the most splendid clothing, and her father and his whole court came =
and
wished her happiness in her marriage with King Thrushbeard, and the joy now
began in earnest. I wish you and I had been there too.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>53 Little Snow-white<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
Once
upon a time in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling l=
ike
feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and the frame of the
window was made of black ebony. And whilst she was sewing and looking out of
the window at the snow, she pricked her finger with the needle, and three d=
rops
of blood fell upon the snow. And the red looked pretty upon the white snow,=
and
she thought to herself, "Would that I had a child as white as snow, as=
red
as blood, and as black as the wood of the window-frame."
Soon
after that she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow, and as red =
as
blood, and her hair was as black as ebony; and she was therefore called Lit=
tle
Snow-white. And when the child was born, the Queen died.
After
a year had passed the King took to himself another wife. She was a beautiful
woman, but proud and haughty, and she could not bear that anyone else should
surpass her in beauty. She had a wonderful looking-glass, and when she stoo=
d in
front of it and looked at herself in it, and said---
"Looking-glass, Looking-glass,=
on
the wall, Who in this land is=
the
fairest of all?"
the
looking-glass answered---
"Thou, O Queen, art the faires=
t of
all!"
Then
she was satisfied, for she knew that the looking-glass spoke the truth.
But
Snow-white was growing up, and grew more and more beautiful; and when she w=
as
seven years old she was as beautiful as the day, and more beautiful than the
Queen herself. And once when the Queen asked her looking-glass --
"Looking-glass,
Looking-glass, on the wall, Who in this land is the fairest of all?"
it
answered---
"Thou art fairer than all who =
are
here, Lady Queen." But m=
ore
beautiful still is Snow-white, as I ween."
Then
the Queen was shocked, and turned yellow and green with envy. From that hou=
r,
whenever she looked at Snow-white, her heart heaved in her breast, she hated
the girl so much.
And
envy and pride grew higher and higher in her heart like a weed, so that she=
had
no peace day or night. She called a huntsman, and said, "Take the child
away into the forest; I will no longer have her in my sight. Kill her, and
bring me back her heart as a token." The huntsman obeyed, and took her
away; but when he had drawn his knife, and was about to pierce Snow-white's
innocent heart, she began to weep, and said, "Ah dear huntsman, leave =
me
my life! I will run away into the wild forest, and never come home again.&q=
uot;
And as
she was so beautiful the huntsman had pity on her and said, "Run away,
then, you poor child." "The wild beasts will soon have devoured y=
ou,"
thought he, and yet it seemed as if a stone had been rolled from his heart
since it was no longer needful for him to kill her. And as a young boar just
then came running by he stabbed it, and cut out its heart and took it to the
Queen as proof that the child was dead. The cook had to salt this, and the
wicked Queen ate it, and thought she had eaten the heart of Snow-white.
But
now the poor child was all alone in the great forest, and so terrified that=
she
looked at every leaf of every tree, and did not know what to do. Then she b=
egan
to run, and ran over sharp stones and through thorns, and the wild beasts r=
an
past her, but did her no harm.
She
ran as long as her feet would go until it was almost evening; then she saw a
little cottage and went into it to rest herself. Everything in the cottage =
was
small, but neater and cleaner than can be told. There was a table on which =
was
a white cover, and seven little plates, and on each plate a little spoon;
moreover, there were seven little knives and forks, and seven little mugs.
Against the wall stood seven little beds side by side, and covered with
snow-white counterpanes.
Little
Snow-white was so hungry and thirsty that she ate some vegetables and bread
from each plate and drank a drop of wine out of each mug, for she did not w=
ish
to take all from one only. Then, as she was so tired, she laid herself down=
on
one of the little beds, but none of them suited her; one was too long, anot=
her
too short, but at last she found that the seventh one was right, and so she
remained in it, said a prayer and went to sleep.
When
it was quite dark the owners of the cottage came back; they were seven dwar=
fs
who dug and delved in the mountains for ore. They lit their seven candles, =
and
as it was now light within the cottage they saw that someone had been there,
for everything was not in the same order in which they had left it.
The
first said, "Who has been sitting on my chair?"
The
second, "Who has been eating off my plate?"
The
third, "Who has been taking some of my bread?"
The fourth,
"Who has been eating my vegetables?"
The
fifth, "Who has been using my fork?"
The
sixth, "Who has been cutting with my knife?"
The
seventh, "Who has been drinking out of my mug?"
Then
the first looked round and saw that there was a little hole on his bed, and=
he
said, "Who has been getting into my bed?" The others came up and =
each
called out, "Somebody has been lying in my bed too." But the seve=
nth
when he looked at his bed saw little Snow-white, who was lying asleep there=
in.
And he called the others, who came running up, and they cried out with
astonishment, and brought their seven little candles and let the light fall=
on
little Snow-white. "Oh,
heavens! oh, heavens!" cried they, "what a lovely child!" and
they were so glad that they did not wake her up, but let her sleep on in the
bed. And the seventh dwarf slept with his companions, one hour with each, a=
nd
so got through the night.
When
it was morning little Snow-white awoke, and was frightened when she saw the
seven dwarfs. But they were friendly and asked her what her name was. "=
;My
name is Snow-white," she answered. "How have you come to our hous=
e?"
said the dwarfs. Then she told them that her step-mother had wished to have=
her
killed, but that the huntsman had spared her life, and that she had run for=
the
whole day, until at last she had found their dwelling. The dwarfs said,
"If you will take care of our house, cook, make the beds, wash, sew, a=
nd
knit, and if you will keep everything neat and clean, you can stay with us =
and
you shall want for nothing." "Yes," said Snow-white, "w=
ith
all my heart," and she stayed with them. She kept the house in order for th=
em; in
the mornings they went to the mountains and looked for copper and gold, in =
the
evenings they came back, and then their supper had to be ready. The girl was
alone the whole day, so the good dwarfs warned her and said, "Beware of
your step-mother, she will soon know that you are here; be sure to let no o=
ne
come in."
But
the Queen, believing that she had eaten Snow-white's heart, could not but t=
hink
that she was again the first and most beautiful of all; and she went to her
looking-glass and said---
"Looking-glass, Looking-glass,=
on
the wall, Who in this land is=
the
fairest of all?"
and
the glass answered --
"Oh, Queen, thou art fairest o=
f all
I see, But over the hills, wh=
ere
the seven dwarfs dwell, Snow-=
white
is still alive and well,
And none is so fair as she."
Then
she was astounded, for she knew that the looking-glass never spoke falsely,=
and
she knew that the huntsman had betrayed her, and that little Snow-white was
still alive.
And so
she thought and thought again how she might kill her, for so long as she was
not the fairest in the whole land, envy let her have no rest. And when she =
had
at last thought of something to do, she painted her face, and dressed herse=
lf
like an old pedler-woman, and no one could have known her. In this disguise=
she
went over the seven mountains to the seven dwarfs, and knocked at the door =
and
cried, "Pretty things to sell, very cheap, very cheap." Little
Snow-white looked out of the window and called out, "Good-day my good
woman, what have you to sell?" "Good things, pretty things,"=
she
answered; "stay-laces of all colours," and she pulled out one whi=
ch
was woven of bright-coloured silk. "I may let the worthy old woman
in," thought Snow-white, and she unbolted the door and bought the pret=
ty
laces. "Child," said the old woman, "what a fright you look;=
come,
I will lace you properly for once." Snow-white had no suspicion, but s=
tood
before her, and let herself be laced with the new laces. But the old woman
laced so quickly and so tightly that Snow-white lost her breath and fell do=
wn
as if dead. "Now I am the most beautiful," said the Queen to hers=
elf,
and ran away.
Not
long afterwards, in the evening, the seven dwarfs came home, but how shocked
they were when they saw their dear little Snow-white lying on the ground, a=
nd
that she neither stirred nor moved, and seemed to be dead. They lifted her =
up,
and, as they saw that she was laced too tightly, they cut the laces; then s=
he
began to breathe a little, and after a while came to life again. When the
dwarfs heard what had happened they said, "The old pedler-woman was no=
one
else than the wicked Queen; take care and let no one come in when we are not
with you."
But
the wicked woman when she had reached home went in front of the glass and
asked---
"Looking-glass, Looking-glass,=
on
the wall, Who in this land is=
the
fairest of all?"
and it
answered as before---
"Oh, Queen, thou art fairest o=
f all
I see, But over the hills, wh=
ere
the seven dwarfs dwell, Snow-=
white
is still alive and well,
And none is so fair as she."
When
she heard that, all her blood rushed to her heart with fear, for she saw
plainly that little Snow-white was again alive. "But now," she sa=
id, "I
will think of something that shall put an end to you," and by the help=
of
witchcraft, which she understood, she made a poisonous comb. Then she disgu=
ised
herself and took the shape of another old woman. So she went over the seven
mountains to the seven dwarfs, knocked at the door, and cried, "Good
things to sell, cheap, cheap!" Little Snow-white looked out and said,
"Go away; I cannot let any one come in." "I suppose you can =
look,"
said the old woman, and pulled the poisonous comb out and held it up. It
pleased the girl so well that she let herself be beguiled, and opened the d=
oor.
When they had made a bargain the old woman said, "Now I will comb you
properly for once." Poor little Snow-white had no suspicion, and let t=
he
old woman do as she pleased, but hardly had she put the comb in her hair th=
an
the poison in it took effect, and the girl fell down senseless. "You
paragon of beauty," said the wicked woman, "you are done for
now," and she went away.
But
fortunately it was almost evening, when the seven dwarfs came home. When th=
ey
saw Snow-white lying as if dead upon the ground they at once suspected the
step-mother, and they looked and found the poisoned comb. Scarcely had they
taken it out when Snow-white came to herself, and told them what had happen=
ed.
Then they warned her once more to be upon her guard and to open the door to=
no
one.
The
Queen, at home, went in front of the glass and said---
"Looking-glass, Looking-glass,=
on
the wall, Who in this land is=
the
fairest of all?"
then it
answered as before---
"Oh, Queen, thou art fairest o=
f all
I see, But over the hills, wh=
ere
the seven dwarfs dwell, Snow-=
white
is still alive and well,
And none is so fair as she."
When
she heard the glass speak thus she trembled and shook with rage. "Snow=
-white
shall die," she cried, "even if it costs me my life!"
Thereupon
she went into a quite secret, lonely room, where no one ever came, and there
she made a very poisonous apple. Outside it looked pretty, white with a red
cheek, so that everyone who saw it longed for it; but whoever ate a piece o=
f it
must surely die.
When
the apple was ready she painted her face, and dressed herself up as a
country-woman, and so she went over the seven mountains to the seven
dwarfs. She knocked at the do=
or. Snow-white
put her head out of the window and said, "I cannot let any one in; the
seven dwarfs have forbidden me." "It is all the same to me,"
answered the woman, "I shall soon get rid of my apples. There, I will =
give
you one."
"No,"
said Snow-white, "I dare not take anything." "Are you afraid=
of
poison?" said the old wo=
man;
"look, I will cut the apple in two pieces; you eat the red cheek, and I
will eat the white." The apple was so cunningly made that only the red
cheek was poisoned. Snow-white longed for the fine apple, and when she saw =
that
the woman ate part of it she could resist no longer, and stretched out her =
hand
and took the poisonous half. But hardly had she a bit of it in her mouth th=
an
she fell down dead. Then the Queen looked at her with a dreadful look, and =
laughed
aloud and said, "White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony-wood! this
time the dwarfs cannot wake you up again."
And
when she asked of the Looking-glass at home---
"Looking-glass, Looking-glass,=
on
the wall, Who in this land is=
the
fairest of all?"
it
answered at last --
"Oh, Queen, in this land thou =
art
fairest of all."
Then
her envious heart had rest, so far as an envious heart can have rest.
The
dwarfs, when they came home in the evening, found Snow-white lying upon the
ground; she breathed no longer and was dead. They lifted her up, looked to =
see
whether they could find anything poisonous, unlaced her, combed her hair,
washed her with water and wine, but it was all of no use; the poor child was
dead, and remained dead. They laid her upon a bier, and all seven of them s=
at
round it and wept for her, and wept three days long.
Then
they were going to bury her, but she still looked as if she were living, and
still had her pretty red cheeks. They said, "We could not bury her in =
the
dark ground," and they had a transparent coffin of glass made, so that=
she
could be seen from all sides, and they laid her in it, and wrote her name u=
pon
it in golden letters, and that she was a king's daughter. Then they put the
coffin out upon the mountain, and one of them always stayed by it and watch=
ed
it. And birds came too, and wept for Snow-white; first an owl, then a raven,
and last a dove.
And
now Snow-white lay a long, long time in the coffin, and she did not change,=
but
looked as if she were asleep; for she was as white as snow, as red as blood,
and her hair was as black as ebony.
It
happened, however, that a king's son came into the forest, and went to the
dwarfs' house to spend the night. He saw the coffin on the mountain, and the
beautiful Snow-white within it, and read what was written upon it in golden
letters. Then he said to the dwarfs, "Let me have the coffin, I will g=
ive
you whatever you want for it." But the dwarfs answered, "We will =
not
part with it for all the gold in the world." Then he said, "Let me
have it as a gift, for I cannot live without seeing Snow-white. I will hono=
ur
and prize her as my dearest possession." As he spoke in this way the g=
ood
dwarfs took pity upon him, and gave him the coffin.
And
now the King's son had it carried away by his servants on their shoulders.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> And it happened that they stumbled=
over
a tree-stump, and with the shock the poisonous piece of apple which Snow-wh=
ite
had bitten off came out of her throat. And before long she opened her eyes,=
lifted
up the lid of the coffin, sat up, and was once more alive. "Oh, heaven=
s,
where am I?" she cried. The King's son, full of joy, said, "You a=
re
with me," and told her what had happened, and said, "I love you m=
ore
than everything in the world; come with me to my father's palace, you shall=
be
my wife."
And
Snow-white was willing, and went with him, and their wedding was held with
great show and splendour. But Snow-white's wicked step-mother was also bidd=
en
to the feast. When she had arrayed herself in beautiful clothes she went be=
fore
the Looking-glass, and said---
"Looking-glass, Looking-glass,=
on
the wall, Who in this land is=
the
fairest of all?"
the
glass answered---
"Oh, Queen, of all here the fa=
irest
art thou, But the young Queen=
is
fairer by far as I trow."
Then
the wicked woman uttered a curse, and was so wretched, so utterly wretched,
that she knew not what to do. At first she would not go to the wedding at a=
ll,
but she had no peace, and must go to see the young Queen. And when she went=
in
she knew Snow-white; and she stood still with rage and fear, and could not
stir. But iron slippers had already been put upon the fire, and they were
brought in with tongs, and set before her. Then she was forced to put on the
red-hot shoes, and dance until she dropped down dead.
There
were once three brothers who had fallen deeper and deeper into poverty, and=
at
last their need was so great that they had to endure hunger, and had nothin=
g to
eat or drink. Then said they, "We cannot go on thus, we had better go =
into
the world and seek our fortune." They therefore set out, and had alrea=
dy
walked over many a long road and many a blade of grass, but had not yet met
with good luck. One day they arrived in a great forest, and in the midst of=
it
was a hill, and when they came nearer they saw that the hill was all silver.
Then spoke the eldest, "Now I have found the good luck I wished for, a=
nd I
desire nothing more." He took as much of the silver as he could possib=
ly
carry, and then turned back and went home again. But the two others said,
"We want something more from good luck than mere silver," and did=
not
touch it, but went onwards. After they had walked for two days longer witho=
ut stopping,
they came to a hill which was all gold. The second brother stopped, took
thought with himself, and was undecided. "What shall I do?" said =
he;
"shall I take for myself so much of this gold, that I have sufficient =
for
all the rest of my life, or shall I go farther?" At length he made a
decision, and putting as much into his pockets as would go in, said farewel=
l to
his brother, and went home. But the third said, "Silver and gold do not
move me, I will not renounce my chance of fortune, perhaps something better
still will be given me." He journeyed onwards, and when he had walked =
for
three days, he got into a forest which was still larger than the one before,
and never would come to an end, and as he found nothing to eat or to drink,=
he
was all but exhausted. Then he climbed up a high tree to find out if up the=
re
he could see the end of the forest, but so far as his eye could pierce he s=
aw
nothing but the tops of trees. Then he began to descend the tree again, but
hunger tormented him, and he thought to himself, "If I could but eat my
fill once more!" When he got down he saw with astonishment a table ben=
eath
the tree richly spread with food, the steam of which rose up to meet him.
"This time," said he, "my wish has been fulfilled at the rig=
ht moment."
And without inquiring who had brought the food, or who had cooked it, he
approached the table, and ate with enjoyment until he had appeased his hung=
er.
When he was done, he thought, "It would after all be a pity if the pre=
tty
little table-cloth were to be spoilt in the forest here," and folded i=
t up
tidily and put it in his pocket. Then he went onwards, and in the evening, =
when
hunger once more made itself felt, he wanted to make a trial of his little
cloth, and spread it out and said, "I wish thee to be covered with good
cheer again," and scarcely had the wish crossed his lips than as many
dishes with the most exquisite food on them stood on the table as there was
room for. "Now I perceive," said he, "in what kitchen my coo=
king
is done. Thou shalt be dearer to me than the mountains of silver and
gold." For he saw plainly that it was a wishing-cloth. The cloth, howe=
ver,
was still not enough to enable him to sit down quietly at home; he preferre=
d to
wander about the world and pursue his fortune farther.
One
night he met, in a lonely wood, a dusty, black charcoal-burner, who was bur=
ning
charcoal there, and had some potatoes by the fire, on which he was going to
make a meal. "Good evening, blackbird!" said the youth. "How
dost thou get on in thy solitude?"
"One
day is like another," replied the charcoal-burner, "and every nig=
ht
potatoes! Hast thou a mind to=
have
some, and wilt thou be my guest?" "Many thanks," replied the
traveler, "I won't rob thee of thy supper; thou didst not reckon on a
visitor, but if thou wilt put up with what I have, thou shalt have an
invitation."
"Who
is to prepare it for thee?" said the charcoal-burner. "I see that=
thou
hast nothing with thee, and there is no one within a two hours' walk who co=
uld
give thee anything." "And yet there shall be a meal," answer=
ed the
youth, "and better than any thou hast ever tasted." Thereupon he =
brought
his cloth out of his knapsack, spread it on the ground, and said, "Lit=
tle
cloth, cover thyself," and instantly boiled meat and baked meat stood
there, and as hot as if it had just come out of the kitchen. The charcoal-b=
urner
stared, but did not require much pressing; he fell to, and thrust larger and
larger mouthfuls into his black mouth.&nbs=
p;
When they had eaten everything, the charcoal-burner smiled contented=
ly,
and said, "Hark thee, thy table-cloth has my approval; it would be a f=
ine
thing for me in this forest, where no one ever cooks me anything good. I wi=
ll
propose an exchange to thee; there in the corner hangs a soldier's knapsack,
which is certainly old and shabby, but in it lie concealed wonderful powers=
; but,
as I no longer use it, I will give it to thee for the table-cloth."
"I must first know what these wonderful powers are," answered the youth.<= o:p>
"That
will I tell thee," replied the charcoal-burner; "every time thou =
tappest
it with thy hand, a corporal comes with six men armed from head to foot, and
they do whatsoever thou commandest them." "So far as I am
concerned," said the youth, "if nothing else can be done, we will=
exchange,"
and he gave the charcoal-burner the cloth, took the knapsack from the hook,=
put
it on, and bade farewell. When he had walked a while, he wished to make a t=
rial
of the magical powers of his knapsack and tapped it. Immediately the seven
warriors stepped up to him, and the corporal said, "What does my lord =
and
ruler wish for?"
"March
with all speed to the charcoal-burner, and demand my wishing-cloth back.&qu=
ot;
They faced to the left, and it was not long before they brought what he
required, and had taken it from the charcoal-burner without asking many
questions. The young man bade them retire, went onwards, and hoped fortune
would shine yet more brightly on him. By sunset he came to another
charcoal-burner, who was making his supper ready by the fire. "If thou
wilt eat some potatoes with salt, but with no dripping, come and sit down w=
ith
me," said the sooty fellow.
"No,
he replied, this time thou shalt be my guest," and he spread out his c=
loth,
which was instantly covered with the most beautiful dishes. They ate and dr=
ank
together, and enjoyed themselves heartily. After the meal was over, the
charcoal-burner said, "Up there on that shelf lies a little old worn-o=
ut
hat which has strange properties: when any one puts it on, and turns it rou=
nd
on his head, the cannons go off as if twelve were fired all together, and t=
hey
shoot down everything so that no one can withstand them. The hat is of no u=
se
to me, and I will willingly give it for thy table-cloth."
"That suits me very well," he answered, took the hat, put it on, and left his table-cloth behind him. Hardly, however, had he walked away than he tapped = on his knapsack, and his soldiers had to fetch the cloth back again. "One thing comes on the top of another," thought he, "and I feel as if= my luck had not yet come to an end." Neither had his thoughts deceived hi= m. After he had walked on for the whole of one day, he came to a third charcoal-burner, who like the previous ones, invited him to potatoes without dripping. But he let him also dine with him from his wishing-cloth, and the charcoal-burner liked it so well, that at last he offered him a horn for it, which had very different properties from those of the hat. When any one ble= w it all the walls and fortifications fell down, and all towns and villages beca= me ruins. He certainly gave the charcoal-burner the cloth for it, but he after= wards sent his soldiers to demand it back again, so that at length he had the kna= psack, hat and horn, all three. "Now," said he, "I am a made man, a= nd it is time for me to go home and see how my brothers are getting on."<= o:p>
When
he reached home, his brothers had built themselves a handsome house with th=
eir
silver and gold, and were living in clover. He went to see them, but as he =
came
in a ragged coat, with his shabby hat on his head, and his old knapsack on =
his
back, they would not acknowledge him as their brother. They mocked and said,
"Thou givest out that thou art our brother who despised silver and gol=
d,
and craved for something still better for himself. He will come in his carr=
iage
in full splendour like a mighty king, not like a beggar," and they dro=
ve
him out of doors. Then he fell into a rage, and tapped his knapsack until a
hundred and fifty men stood before him armed from head to foot. He commanded
them to surround his brothers' house, and two of them were to take hazel-st=
icks
with them, and beat the two insolent men until they knew who he was. A viol=
ent disturbance
arose, people ran together, and wanted to lend the two some help in their n=
eed,
but against the soldiers they could do nothing. News of this at length came=
to
the King, who was very angry, and ordered a captain to march out with his
troop, and drive this disturber of the peace out of the town; but the man w=
ith
the knapsack soon got a greater body of men together, who repulsed the capt=
ain
and his men, so that they were forced to retire with bloody noses. The King
said, "This vagabond is not brought to order yet," and next day s=
ent
a still larger troop against him, but they could do even less. The youth se=
t still
more men against them, and in order to be done the sooner, he turned his ha=
t twice
round on his head, and heavy guns began to play, and the king's men were be=
aten
and put to flight. "And now," said he, "I will not make peace
until the King gives me his daughter to wife, and I govern the whole kingdo=
m in
his name." He caused this to be announced to the King, and the latter =
said
to his daughter, "Necessity is a hard nut to crack, what remains to me=
but
to do what he desires? If I want peace and to keep the crown on my head, I =
must
give thee away."
So the
wedding was celebrated, but the King's daughter was vexed that her husband
should be a common man, who wore a shabby hat, and put on an old knapsack. =
She
wished much to get rid of him, and night and day studied how she could
accomplished this. Then she thought to herself, "Is it possible that h=
is
wonderful powers lie in the knapsack?" and she dissembled and caressed
him, and when his heart was softened, she said, "If thou wouldst but l=
ay
aside that ugly knapsack, it makes disfigures thee so, that I can't help be=
ing
ashamed of thee." "Dear child," said he, "this knapsack=
is
my greatest treasure; as long as I have it, there is no power on earth that=
I
am afraid of." And he revealed to her the wonderful virtue with which =
it
was endowed. Then she threw herself in his arms as if she were going to kiss
him, but dexterously took the knapsack off his shoulders, and ran away with=
it.
As soon as she was alone she tapped it, and commanded the warriors to seize
their former master, and take him out of the royal palace. They obeyed, and=
the
false wife sent still more men after him, who were to drive him quite out of
the country. Then he would have been ruined if he had not had the little ha=
t.
But his hands were scarcely at liberty before he turned it twice. Immediate=
ly
the cannon began to thunder, and struck down everything, and the King's
daughter herself was forced to come and beg for mercy. As she entreated in =
such
moving terms, and promised amendment, he allowed himself to be persuaded and
granted her peace. She behaved in a friendly manner to him, and acted as if=
she
loved him very much, and after some time managed so to befool him, that he
confided to her that even if someone got the knapsack into his power, he co=
uld
do nothing against him so long as the old hat was still his. When she knew the secret, she wait=
ed
until he was asleep, and then she took the hat away from him, and had it th=
rown
out into the street. But the horn still remained to him, and in great anger=
he
blew it with all his strength. Instantly all walls, fortifications, towns, =
and
villages, toppled down, and crushed the King and his daughter to death. And=
had
he not put down the horn and had blown just a little longer, everything wou=
ld
have been in ruins, and not one stone would have been left standing on anot=
her.
Then no one opposed him any longer, and he made himself King of the whole
country.
Once
there was a miller who was poor, but who had a beautiful daughter. Now it
happened that he had to go and speak to the King, and in order to make hims=
elf
appear important he said to him, "I have a daughter who can spin straw
into gold." The King said to the miller, "That is an art which
pleases me well; if your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to-mor=
row
to my palace, and I will try what she can do."
And
when the girl was brought to him he took her into a room which was quite fu=
ll
of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to
work, and if by to-morrow morning early you have not spun this straw into g=
old
during the night, you must die." Thereupon he himself locked up the ro=
om,
and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for =
the
life of her could not tell what to do; she had no idea how straw could be s=
pun
into gold, and she grew more and more miserable, until at last she began to
weep.
But
all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, "Good
evening, Mistress Miller; why are you crying so?" "Alas!"
answered the girl, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know =
how
to do it." "What will you give me," said the manikin, "=
if I
do it for you?" "My necklace," said the girl. The little man
took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and "whirr,
whirr, whirr," three turns, and the reel was full; then he put another=
on,
and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. An=
d so
it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reel=
s were
full of gold. By daybreak the=
King
was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted,
but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's daughter taken i=
nto
another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin
that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help
herself, and was crying, when the door again opened, and the little man
appeared, and said, "What will you give me if I spin that straw into g=
old
for you?" "The ring on my finger," answered the girl. The li=
ttle
man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun a=
ll the
straw into glittering gold.
The
King rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough;
and he had the miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of str=
aw,
and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course of this night; but if
you succeed, you shall be my wife." "Even if she be a miller's
daughter," thought he, "I could not find a richer wife in the who=
le
world."
When
the girl was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said,
"What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also?&quo=
t;
"I have nothing left that I could give," answered the girl.
"Then promise me, if you should become Queen, your first child."
"Who knows whether that will ever happen?" thought the miller's
daughter; and, not knowing how else to help herself in this strait, she
promised the manikin what he wanted, and for that he once more span the str=
aw
into gold.
And
when the King came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he took =
her
in marriage, and the pretty miller's daughter became a Queen.
A year
after, she had a beautiful child, and she never gave a thought to the manik=
in.
But suddenly he came into her room, and said, "Now give me what you
promised." The Queen was horror-struck, and offered the manikin all the
riches of the kingdom if he would leave her the child. But the manikin said,
"No, something that is living is dearer to me than all the treasures in
the world." Then the Queen began to weep and cry, so that the manikin
pitied her. "I will give you three days' time," said he, "if=
by
that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child."
So the
Queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and=
she
sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other n=
ames
that there might be. When the manikin came the next day, she began with Cas=
par,
Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew, one after another; bu=
t to
every one the little man said, "That is not my name." On the seco=
nd
day she had inquiries made in the neighborhood as to the names of the people
there, and she repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious.
"Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg?" but=
he
always answered, "That is not my name."
On the
third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have not been ab=
le
to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of t=
he
forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a
little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the =
fire
quite a ridiculous little man was jumping: he hopped upon one leg, and
shouted---
"To-day I bake, to-morrow brew=
, The next I'll have the young Queen's
child. Ha! glad am I that no =
one
knew That Rumpelstiltskin I am
styled."
You
may think how glad the Queen was when she heard the name! And when soon
afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, Mistress Queen, wh=
at
is my name?" at first she said, "Is your name Conrad?"
"No." "Is your name Harry?" "No."
"Perhaps
your name is Rumpelstiltskin?"
"The
devil has told you that! the devil has told you that!" cried the little
man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that=
his
whole leg went in; and then in rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with =
both
hands that he tore himself in two.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>56 Sweetheart Roland<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
There
was once on a time a woman who was a real witch and had two daughters, one =
ugly
and wicked, and this one she loved because she was her own daughter, and one
beautiful and good, and this one she hated, because she was her step-daught=
er.
The step-daughter once had a pretty apron, which the other fancied so much =
that
she became envious, and told her mother that she must and would have that
apron. "Be quiet, my child," said the old woman, "and thou s=
halt
have it. Thy step-sister has long deserved death, to-night when she is asle=
ep I
will come and cut her head off. Only be careful that thou art at the far-si=
de
of the bed, and push her well to the front." It would have been all ov=
er
with the poor girl if she had not just then been standing in a corner, and
heard everything. All day long she dared not go out of doors, and when bed-=
time
had come, the witch's daughter got into bed first, so as to lie at the far
side, but when she was asleep, the other pushed her gently to the front, an=
d took
for herself the place at the back, close by the wall. In the night, the old
woman came creeping in, she held an axe in her right hand, and felt with her
left to see if anyone was lying at the outside, and then she grasped the axe
with both hands, and cut her own child's head off.
When
she had gone away, the girl got up and went to her sweetheart, who was call=
ed
Roland, and knocked at his door. When he came out, she said to him, "H=
ear
me, dearest Roland, we must fly in all haste; my step-mother wanted to kill=
me,
but has struck her own child. When daylight comes, and she sees what she has
done, we shall be lost." "But," said Roland, "I counsel
thee first to take away her magic wand, or we cannot escape if she pursues
us." The maiden fetched the magic wand, and she took the dead girl's h=
ead
and dropped three drops of blood on the ground, one in front of the bed, on=
e in
the kitchen, and one on the stairs. Then she hurried away with her lover. W=
hen the
old witch got up next morning, she called her daughter, and wanted to give =
her
the apron, but she did not come. Then the witch cried, "Where art
thou?" "Here, on the stairs, I am sweeping," answered the fi=
rst
drop of blood. The old woman went out, but saw no one on the stairs, and cr=
ied
again, "Where art thou?" "Here in the kitchen, I am warming
myself," cried the second drop of blood. She went into the kitchen, but
found no one. Then she cried again, "Where art thou?" "Ah, h=
ere
in the bed, I am sleeping." cried the third drop of blood. She went in=
to
the room to the bed. What did she see there? Her own child, whose head she =
had
cut off, bathed in her blood. The witch fell into a passion, sprang to the
window, and as she could look forth quite far into the world, she perceived=
her
step-daughter hurrying away with her sweetheart Roland. "That shall not
serve you," cried she, "even if you have got a long way off, you
shall still not escape me." She put on her many league boots, in which
went an hour's walk at every step, and it was not long before she overtook
them. The girl, however, when she saw the old woman striding towards her,
changed, with her magic wand, her sweetheart Roland into a lake, and herself
into a duck swimming in the middle of it. The witch placed herself on the s=
hore,
threw bread-crumbs in, and gave herself every possible trouble to entice the
duck; but the duck did not let herself be enticed, and the old woman had to=
go
home at night as she had come. On this the girl and her sweetheart Roland
resumed their natural shapes again, and they walked on the whole night until
daybreak. Then the maiden changed herself into a beautiful flower which sto=
od
in the midst of a briar hedge, and her sweetheart Roland into a fiddler. It=
was
not long before the witch came striding up towards them, and said to the
musician, "Dear musician, may I pluck that beautiful flower for
myself?" "Oh, yes," he replied, "I will play to you whi=
le
you do it." As she was hastily creeping into the hedge and was just go=
ing
to pluck the flower, for she well knew who the flower was, he began to play,
and whether she would or not, she was forced to dance, for it was a magical
dance. The quicker he played, the more violent springs was she forced to ma=
ke,
and the thorns tore her clothes from her body, and pricked her and wounded =
her
till she bled, and as he did not stop, she had to dance till she lay dead on
the ground.
When
they were delivered, Roland said, "Now I will go to my father and arra=
nge
for the wedding." "Then in the meantime I will stay here and wait=
for
thee," said the girl, "and that no one may recognize me, I will
change myself into a red stone land-mark." Then Roland went away, and =
the
girl stood like a red land-mark in the field and waited for her beloved. But
when Roland got home, he fell into the snares of another, who prevailed on =
him
so far that he forgot the maiden. The poor girl remained there a long time,=
but
at length, as he did not return at all, she was sad, and changed herself in=
to a
flower, and thought, "Some one will surely come this way, and trample =
me
down."
It
befell, however, that a shepherd kept his sheep in the field, and saw the
flower, and as it was so pretty, plucked it, took it with him, and laid it =
away
in his chest. From that time forth, strange things happened in the shepherd=
's
house. When he arose in the
morning, all the work was already done, the room was swept, the table and
benches cleaned, the fire on the hearth was lighted, and the water was fetc=
hed,
and at noon, when he came home, the table was laid, and a good dinner serve=
d.
He could not conceive how this came to pass, for he never saw a human being=
in
his house, and no one could have concealed himself in it. He was certainly pleased with this=
good
attendance, but still at last he was so afraid that he went to a wise woman=
and
asked for her advice. The wise woman said, "There is some enchantment
behind it, listen very early some morning if anything is moving in the room,
and if thou seest anything, let it be what it may, throw a white cloth over=
it,
and then the magic will be stopped."
The
shepherd did as she bade him, and next morning just as day dawned, he saw t=
he
chest open, and the flower come out. Swiftly he sprang towards it, and thre=
w a
white cloth over it. Instantly the transformation came to an end, and a
beautiful girl stood before him, who owned to him that she had been the flo=
wer,
and that up to this time she had attended to his housekeeping. She told him=
her
story, and as she pleased him he asked her if she would marry him, but she
answered, "No," for she wanted to remain faithful to her sweethea=
rt
Roland, although he had deserted her, but she promised not to go away, but =
to
keep house for the shepherd for the future.
And
now the time drew near when Roland's wedding was to be celebrated, and then,
according to an old custom in the country, it was announced that all the gi=
rls
were to be present at it, and sing in honour of the bridal pair. When the
faithful maiden heard of this, she grew so sad that she thought her heart w=
ould
break, and she would not go thither, but the other girls came and took
her. When it came to her turn=
to sing,
she stepped back, until at last she was the only one left, and then she cou=
ld
not refuse. But when she began her song, and it reached Roland's ears, he
sprang up and cried, "I know the voice, that is the true bride, I will
have no other!" Everything he had forgotten, and which had vanished fr=
om
his mind, had suddenly come home again to his heart. Then the faithful maid=
en
held her wedding with her sweetheart Roland, and grief came to an end and j=
oy
began.
In the
olden time there was a king, who had behind his palace a beautiful pleasure=
-garden
in which there was a tree that bore golden apples. When the apples were get=
ting
ripe they were counted, but on the very next morning one was missing. This =
was
told to the King, and he ordered that a watch should be kept every night
beneath the tree.
The
King had three sons, the eldest of whom he sent, as soon as night came on, =
into
the garden; but when midnight came he could not keep himself from sleeping,=
and
next morning again an apple was gone.
The
following night the second son had to keep watch, it fared no better with h=
im;
as soon as twelve o'clock had struck he fell asleep, and in the morning an
apple was gone.
Now it
came to the turn of the third son to watch; and he was quite ready, but the
King had not much trust in him, and thought that he would be of less use ev=
en
than his brothers; but at last he let him go. The youth lay down beneath the
tree, but kept awake, and did not let sleep master him. When it struck twel=
ve,
something rustled through the air, and in the moonlight he saw a bird coming
whose feathers were all shining with gold. The bird alighted on the tree, a=
nd
had just plucked off an apple, when the youth shot an arrow at him. The bird
flew off, but the arrow had struck his plumage, and one of his golden feath=
ers
fell down. The youth picked it up, and the next morning took it to the King=
and
told him what he had seen in the night. The King called his council togethe=
r, and
everyone declared that a feather like this was worth more than the whole
kingdom. "If the feather is so precious," declared the King, &quo=
t;one
alone will not do for me; I must and will have the whole bird!"
The
eldest son set out; he trusted to his cleverness, and thought that he would
easily find the Golden Bird. When he had gone some distance he saw a Fox
sitting at the edge of a wood, so he cocked his gun and took aim at him. The
Fox cried, "Do not shoot me! and in return I will give you some good
counsel. You are on the way t=
o the
Golden Bird; and this evening you will come to a village in which stand two
inns opposite to one another. One of them is lighted up brightly, and all g=
oes
on merrily within, but do not go into it; go rather into the other, even th=
ough
it seems a bad one." "How can such a silly beast give wise
advice?" thought the King's son, and he pulled the trigger. But he mis=
sed
the Fox, who stretched out his tail and ran quickly into the wood.
So he
pursued his way, and by evening came to the village where the two inns were=
; in
one they were singing and dancing; the other had a poor, miserable look.
"I should be a fool, indeed," he thought, "if I were to go i=
nto
the shabby tavern, and pass by the good one." So he went into the chee=
rful
one, lived there in riot and revel, and forgot the bird and his father, and=
all
good counsels.
When
some time had passed, and the eldest son for month after month did not come
back home, the second set out, wishing to find the Golden Bird. The Fox met=
him
as he had met the eldest, and gave him the good advice of which he took no
heed. He came to the two inns, and his brother was standing at the window of
the one from which came the music, and called out to him. He could not resi=
st,
but went inside and lived only for pleasure.
Again some time passed, and then the King's youngest son wanted to set off and try his luck, but his father would not allow it. "It is of no use," s= aid he, "he will find the Golden Bird still less than his brothers, and if= a mishap were to befall him he knows not how to help himself; he is a little wanting at the best." But at last, as he had no peace, he let him go.<= o:p>
Again
the Fox was sitting outside the wood, and begged for his life, and offered =
his
good advice. The youth was good-natured, and said, "Be easy, little Fo=
x, I
will do you no harm." "You shall not repent it," answered the
Fox; "and that you may get on more quickly, get up behind on my
tail." And scarcely had he seated himself when the Fox began to run, a=
nd
away he went over stock and stone till his hair whistled in the wind. When =
they
came to the village the youth got off; he followed the good advice, and wit=
hout
looking round turned into the little inn, where he spent the night quietly.=
The
next morning, as soon as he got into the open country, there sat the Fox
already, and said, "I will tell you further what you have to do. Go on
quite straight, and at last you will come to a castle, in front of which a
whole regiment of soldiers is lying, but do not trouble yourself about them,
for they will all be asleep and snoring. Go through the midst of them strai=
ght
into the castle, and go through all the rooms, till at last you will come t=
o a
chamber where a Golden Bird is hanging in a wooden cage. Close by, there st=
ands
an empty gold cage for show, but beware of taking the bird out of the common
cage and putting it into the fine one, or it may go badly with you." W=
ith
these words the Fox again stretched out his tail, and the King's son seated
himself upon it, and away he went over stock and stone till his hair whistl=
ed
in the wind.
When
he came to the castle he found everything as the Fox had said. The King's s=
on
went into the chamber where the Golden Bird was shut up in a wooden cage,
whilst a golden one stood hard by; and the three golden apples lay about the
room. "But," thought he, "it would be absurd if I were to le=
ave
the beautiful bird in the common and ugly cage," so he opened the door,
laid hold of it, and put it into the golden cage. But at the same moment the
bird uttered a shrill cry. The
soldiers awoke, rushed in, and took him off to prison. The next morning he =
was
taken before a court of justice, and as he confessed everything, was senten=
ced
to death.
The
King, however, said that he would grant him his life on one condition namel=
y,
if he brought him the Golden Horse which ran faster than the wind; and in t=
hat
case he should receive, over and above, as a reward, the Golden Bird.
The
King's son set off, but he sighed and was sorrowful, for how was he to find=
the
Golden Horse? But all at once he saw his old friend the Fox sitting on the
road. "Look you," said the Fox, "this has happened because y=
ou
did not give heed to me. However, be of good courage. I will give you my he=
lp,
and tell you how to get to the Golden Horse. You must go straight on, and y=
ou
will come to a castle, where in the stable stands the horse. The grooms wil=
l be
lying in front of the stable; but they will be asleep and snoring, and you =
can
quietly lead out the Golden Horse. But of one thing you must take heed; put=
on
him the common saddle of wood and leather, and not the golden one, which ha=
ngs
close by, else it will go ill with you." Then the Fox stretched out his
tail, the King's son seated himself upon it, and away he went over stock an=
d stone
until his hair whistled in the wind.
Everything
happened just as the Fox had said; the prince came to the stable in which t=
he
Golden Horse was standing, but just as he was going to put the common saddle
upon him, he thought, "It will be a shame to such a beautiful beast, i=
f I
do not give him the good saddle which belongs to him by right." But
scarcely had the golden saddle touched the horse than he began to neigh
loudly. The grooms awoke, sei=
zed
the youth, and threw him into prison. The next morning he was sentenced by =
the
court to death; but the King promised to grant him his life, and the Golden
Horse as well, if he could bring back the beautiful princess from the Golden
Castle.
With a
heavy heart the youth set out; yet luckily for him he soon found the trusty
Fox. "I ought only to leave you to your ill-luck," said the Fox,
"but I pity you, and will help you once more out of your trouble. This
road takes you straight to the Golden Castle, you will reach it by eventide;
and at night when everything is quiet the beautiful princess goes to the
bathing-house to bathe. When she enters it, run up to her and give her a ki=
ss,
then she will follow you, and you can take her away with you; only do not a=
llow
her to take leave of her parents first, or it will go ill with you."
Then
the Fox stretched out his tail, the King's son seated himself upon it, and =
away
the Fox went, over stock and stone, till his hair whistled in the wind.
When
he reached the Golden Castle it was just as the Fox had said. He waited unt=
il
midnight, when everything lay in deep sleep, and the beautiful princess was
going to the bathing-house. Then he sprang out and gave her a kiss. She said
that she would like to go with him, but she asked him pitifully, and with
tears, to allow her first to take leave of her parents. At first he withsto=
od
her prayer, but when she wept more and more, and fell at his feet, he at la=
st
gave in. But no sooner had the maiden reached the bedside of her father tha=
n he
and all the rest in the castle awoke, and the youth was laid hold of and put
into prison.
The
next morning the King said to him, "Your life is forfeited, and you can
only find mercy if you take away the hill which stands in front of my windo=
ws,
and prevents my seeing beyond it; and you must finish it all within eight d=
ays.
If you do that you shall have my daughter as your reward."
The
King's son began, and dug and shovelled without leaving off, but when after
seven days he saw how little he had done, and how all his work was as good =
as
nothing, he fell into great sorrow and gave up all hope. But on the evening=
of
the seventh day the Fox appeared and said, "You do not deserve that I
should take any trouble about you; but just go away and lie down to sleep, =
and
I will do the work for you."
The
next morning when he awoke and looked out of the window the hill had gone. =
The
youth ran, full of joy, to the King, and told him that the task was fulfill=
ed,
and whether he liked it or not, the King had to hold to his word and give h=
im
his daughter.
So the
two set forth together, and it was not long before the trusty Fox came up w=
ith
them. "You have certainly got what is best," said he, "but t=
he
Golden Horse also belongs to the maiden of the Golden Castle." "H=
ow shall
I get it?" asked the youth. "That I will tell you," answered=
the
Fox; "first take the beautiful maiden to the King who sent you to the =
Golden
Castle. There will be unheard-of rejoicing; they will gladly give you the
Golden Horse, and will bring it out to you. Mount it as soon as possible, a=
nd
offer your hand to all in farewell; last of all to the beautiful maiden. An=
d as
soon as you have taken her hand swing her up on to the horse, and gallop aw=
ay,
and no one will be able to bring you back, for the horse runs faster than t=
he
wind."
All
was carried out successfully, and the King's son carried off the beautiful
princess on the Golden Horse.
The
Fox did not remain behind, and he said to the youth, "Now I will help =
you
to get the Golden Bird. When you come near to the castle where the Golden B=
ird
is to be found, let the maiden get down, and I will take her into my care. =
Then
ride with the Golden Horse into the castle-yard; there will be great rejoic=
ing
at the sight, and they will bring out the Golden Bird for you. As soon as y=
ou
have the cage in your hand gallop back to us, and take the maiden away
again."
When
the plan had succeeded, and the King's son was about to ride home with his
treasures, the Fox said, "Now you shall reward me for my help."
"What do you require for it?" asked the youth. "When you get
into the wood yonder, shoot me dead, and chop off my head and feet."
"That
would be fine gratitude," said the King's son. "I cannot possibly=
do
that for you."
The
Fox said, "If you will not do it I must leave you, but before I go awa=
y I
will give you a piece of good advice. Be careful about two things. Buy no
gallows'-flesh, and do not sit at the edge of any well." And then he r=
an
into the wood.
The
youth thought, "That is a wonderful beast, he has strange whims; who is
going to buy gallows'-flesh? and the desire to sit at the edge of a well it=
has
never yet seized me."
He
rode on with the beautiful maiden, and his road took him again through the
village in which his two brothers had remained. There was a great stir and
noise, and, when he asked what was going on, he was told that two men were
going to be hanged. As he came nearer to the place he saw that they were his
brothers, who had been playing all kinds of wicked pranks, and had squander=
ed
all their wealth. He inquired whether they could not be set free. "If =
you
will pay for them," answered the people; "but why should you waste
your money on wicked men, and buy them free." He did not think twice a=
bout
it, but paid for them, and when they were set free they all went on their w=
ay
together.
They
came to the wood where the Fox had first met them, as it was cool and pleas=
ant
within it, the two brothers said, "Let us rest a little by the well, a=
nd
eat and drink." He agreed, and whilst they were talking he forgot hims=
elf,
and sat down upon the edge of the well without thinking of any evil. But the
two brothers threw him backwards into the well, took the maiden, the Horse,=
and
the Bird, and went home to their father. "Here we bring you not only t=
he
Golden Bird," said they; "we have won the Golden Horse also, and =
the
maiden from the Golden Castle." Then was there great joy; but the Horse
would not eat, the Bird would not sing, and the maiden sat and wept.
But
the youngest brother was not dead. By good fortune the well was dry, and he
fell upon soft moss without being hurt, but he could not get out again. Eve=
n in
this strait the faithful Fox did not leave him: it came and leapt down to h=
im,
and upbraided him for having forgotten its advice. "But yet I cannot g=
ive
it up so," he said; "I will help you up again into daylight."=
; He
bade him grasp his tail and keep tight hold of it; and then he pulled him u=
p.
"You
are not out of all danger yet," said the Fox. "Your brothers were=
not
sure of your death, and have surrounded the wood with watchers, who are to =
kill
you if you let yourself be seen." But a poor man was sitting upon the
road, with whom the youth changed clothes, and in this way he got to the Ki=
ng's
palace.
No one
knew him, but the Bird began to sing, the Horse began to eat, and the beaut=
iful
maiden left off weeping. The King, astonished, asked, "What does this
mean?" Then the maiden said, "I do not know, but I have been so
sorrowful and now I am so happy! I feel as if my true bridegroom had
come." She told him all that had happened, although the other brothers=
had
threatened her with death if she were to betray anything.
The
King commanded that all people who were in his castle should be brought bef=
ore
him; and amongst them came the youth in his ragged clothes; but the maiden =
knew
him at once and fell upon his neck. The wicked brothers were seized and put=
to
death, but he was married to the beautiful maiden and declared heir to the
King.
But
how did it fare with the poor Fox? Long afterwards the King's son was once
again walking in the wood, when the Fox met him and said, "You have
everything now that you can wish for, but there is never an end to my miser=
y,
and yet it is in your power to free me," and again he asked him with t=
ears
to shoot him dead and chop off his head and feet. So he did it, and scarcely
was it done when the Fox was changed into a man, and was no other than the
brother of the beautiful princess, who at last was freed from the magic cha=
rm
which had been laid upon him. And now nothing more was wanting to their
happiness as long as they lived.
A
sheep-dog had not a good master, but, on the contrary, one who let him suff=
er
hunger. As he could stay no longer with him, he went quite sadly away. On t=
he
road he met a sparrow who said, "Brother dog, why art thou so sad?&quo=
t;
The dog replied, "I am hungry, and have nothing to eat." Then said
the sparrow, "Dear brother, come into the town with me, and I will sat=
isfy
thy hunger." So they went into the town together, and when they came in
front of a butcher's shop the sparrow said to the dog, "Stay there, an=
d I
will pick a bit of meat down for thee," and he alighted on the stall,
looked about him to see that no one was observing him, and pecked and pulled
and tore so long at a piece which lay on the edge, that it slipped down. Th=
en
the dog seized it, ran into a corner, and devoured it. The sparrow said,
"Now come with me to another shop, and then I will get thee one more p=
iece
that thou mayst be satisfied." When the dog had devoured the second pi=
ece
as well, the sparrow asked, "Brother dog, hast thou now had enough?&qu=
ot;
"Yes, I have had meat enough," he answered, "but I have had =
no
bread yet." Said the sparrow, "Thou shalt have that also, come wi=
th
me." Then he took him to=
a
baker's shop, and pecked at a couple of little buns till they rolled down, =
and
as the dog wanted still more, he led him to another stall, and again got br=
ead
for him. When that was consumed, the sparrow said, "Brother dog, hast =
thou
now had enough?" "Yes," he replied, "now we will walk
awhile outside the town." Then they both went out on to the highway. It
was, however, warm weather, and when they had walked a little way the dog s=
aid,
"I am tired, and would like to sleep." "Well, do sleep,"
answered the sparrow, "and in the meantime I will seat myself on a
branch." So the dog lay down on the road, and fell fast asleep. Whilst=
he
lay sleeping there, a waggoner came driving by, who had a cart with three
horses, laden with two barrels of wine. The sparrow, however, saw that he w=
as
not going to turn aside, but was staying in the wheel track in which the dog
was lying, so it cried, "Waggoner, don't do it, or I will make thee
poor." The waggoner, however, growled to himself, "Thou wilt not =
make
me poor," and cracked his whip and drove the cart over the dog, and the
wheels killed him. Then the sparrow cried, "Thou hast run over my brot=
her
dog and killed him, it shall cost thee thy cart and horses." "Cart
and horses indeed!" said=
the
waggoner. "What harm canst thou do me?" and drove onwards. Then t=
he
sparrow crept under the cover of the cart, and pecked so long at the same
bung-hole that he got the bung out, and then all the wine ran out without t=
he
driver noticing it. But once when he was looking behind him he saw that the
cart was dripping, and looked at the barrels and saw that one of them was
empty. "Unfortunate fellow that I am," cried he. "Not
unfortunate enough yet," said the sparrow, and flew on to the head of =
one
of the horses and pecked his eyes out.&nbs=
p;
When the driver saw that, he drew out his axe and wanted to hit the
sparrow, but the sparrow flew into the air, and he hit his horse on the hea=
d,
and it fell down dead. "Oh, what an unfortunate man I am," cried =
he.
"Not unfortunate enough yet," said the sparrow, and when the driv=
er
drove on with the two hoses, the sparrow again crept under the cover, and
pecked the bung out of the second cask, so all the wine was spilt. When the
driver became aware of it, he again cried, "Oh, what an unfortunate ma=
n I
am," but the sparrow replied, "Not unfortunate enough yet," =
and
seated himself on the head of the second horse, and pecked his eyes out. The
driver ran up to it and raised his axe to strike, but the sparrow flew into=
the
air and the blow struck the horse, which fell. "Oh, what an unfortunate
man I am." "Not unfortunate enough yet," said the sparrow, a=
nd
lighted on the third horse's head, and pecked out his eyes. The driver, in =
his
rage, struck at the sparrow without looking round, and did not hit him but
killed his third horse likewise. "Oh, what an unfortunate man I am,&qu=
ot;
cried he. "Not unfortunate enough yet," answered the sparrow.
"Now will I make thee unfortunate in thy home," and flew away.
The
driver had to leave the waggon standing, and full of anger and vexation went
home. "Ah," said he to his wife, "what misfortunes I have ha=
d!
My wine has run out, and the horses are all three dead!" "Alas, h=
usband,"
she answered, "what a malicious bird has come into the house! It has
gathered together every bird there is in the world, and they have fallen on=
our
corn up there, and are devouring it."=
Then he went upstairs, and thousands and thousands of birds were sit=
ting
in the loft and had eaten up all the corn, and the sparrow was sitting in t=
he midst
of them. Then the driver cried, "Oh, what an unfortunate man I am?&quo=
t;
"Not
unfortunate enough yet!" answered the sparrow; "waggoner, it shal=
l cost
thee thy life as well," and flew out.
Then
the waggoner had lost all his property, and he went downstairs into the roo=
m,
sat down behind the stove and was quite furious and bitter. But the sparrow=
sat
outside in front of the window, and cried, "Waggoner, it shall cost th=
ee
thy life." Then the waggoner snatched the axe and threw it at the spar=
row,
but it only broke the window, and did not hit the bird. The sparrow now hop=
ped
in, placed itself on the stove and cried, "Waggoner, it shall cost thee
thy life." The latter, quite mad and blind with rage, smote the stove =
in
twain, and as the sparrow flew from one place to another so it fared with a=
ll
his household furniture, looking-glass, benches, table, and at last the wal=
ls
of his house, and yet he could not hit the bird. At length, however, he cau=
ght
it with his hand. Then his wife said, "Shall I kill it?"
"No," cried he, "that would be too merciful. It shall die mu=
ch
more cruelly," and he took it and swallowed it whole. The sparrow,
however, began to flutter about in his body, and fluttered up again into the
man's mouth; then it stretched out its head, and cried, "Waggoner, it
shall still cost thee thy life." The driver gave the axe to his wife, =
and
said, "Wife, kill the bird in my mouth for me." The woman struck,=
but
missed her blow, and hit the waggoner right on his head, so that he fell de=
ad.
But the sparrow flew up and away.
There
was once on a time a man who was called Frederick and a woman called Cather=
ine,
who had married each other and lived together as young married folks. One d=
ay
Frederick said, "I will now go and plough, Catherine; when I come back,
there must be some roast meat on the table for hunger, and a fresh draught =
for
thirst." "Just go, Frederick," answered Kate, "just go,=
I
will have all ready for you." Therefore when dinner-time drew near she=
got
a sausage out of the chimney, put it in the frying-pan, put some butter to =
it,
and set it on the fire. The s=
ausage
began to fry and to hiss, Catherine stood beside it and held the handle of =
the
pan, and had her own thoughts as she was doing it. Then it occurred to her,=
"While
the sausage is getting done thou couldst go into the cellar and draw
beer." So she set the frying-pan safely on the fire, took a can, and w=
ent
down into the cellar to draw beer. The beer ran into the can and Kate watch=
ed
it, and then she thought, "Oh, dear! The dog upstairs is not fastened =
up,
it might get the sausage out of the pan. Well thought of." And in a tr=
ice
she was up the cellar-steps again, but the Spitz had the sausage in its mou=
th
already, and trailed it away on the ground. But Catherine, who was not idle,
set out after it, and chased it a long way into the field; the dog, however,
was swifter than Catherine and did not let the sausage journey easily, but
skipped over the furrows with it. "What's gone is gone!" said Kat=
e,
and turned round, and as she had run till she was weary, she walked quietly=
and
comfortably, and cooled herself. During this time the beer was still running
out of the cask, for Kate had not turned the tap. And when the can was full=
and
there was no other place for it, it ran into the cellar and did not stop un=
til
the whole cask was empty. As soon as Kate was on the steps she saw the
mischance. "Good gracious!" she cried. "What shall I do now to stop
Frederick knowing it!" She thought for a while, and at last she rememb=
ered
that up in the garret was still standing a sack of the finest wheat flour f=
rom
the last fair, and she would fetch that down and strew it over the beer.
"Yes," said she, "he who saves a thing when he ought, has it
afterwards when he needs it," and she climbed up to the garret and car=
ried
the sack below, and threw it straight down on the can of beer, which she
knocked over, and Frederick's draught swam also in the cellar. "It is =
all
right," said Kate, "where the one is the other ought to be
also," and she strewed the meal over the whole cellar. When it was don=
e she
was heartily delighted with her work, and said, "How clean and wholeso=
me
it does look here!" At mid-day home came Frederick: "Now, wife, w=
hat
have you ready for me?" "Ah, Freddy," she answered, "I =
was
frying a sausage for you, but whilst I was drawing the beer to drink with i=
t,
the dog took it away out of the pan, and whilst I was running after the dog,
all the beer ran out, and whilst I was drying up the beer with the flour, I
knocked over the can as well, but be easy, the cellar is quite dry again.&q=
uot;
Said Frederick, "Kate, Kate, you should not have done that! to let the
sausage be carried off and the beer run out of the cask, and throw out all =
our
flour into the bargain!" "Indeed, Frederick, I did not know that,=
you
should have told me." The man thought, "If my wife is like this, I
must look after things more." Now he had got together a good number of
thalers which he changed into gold, and said to Catherine, "Look, these
are counters for playing games; I will put them in a pot and bury them in t=
he
stable under the cow's manger, but mind you keep away from them, or it will=
be
the worse for you." Said she, "Oh, no, Frederick, I certainly will
not go." And when Frederick was gone some pedlars came into the village
who had cheap earthen-bowls and pots, and asked the young woman if there was
nothing she wanted to bargain with them for? "Oh, dear people," s=
aid
Catherine, "I have no money and can buy nothing, but if you have any u=
se
for yellow counters I will buy of you." "Yellow counters, why not?
But just let us see them." "Then go into the stable and dig under=
the
cow's manger, and you will find the yellow counters. I am not allowed to go
there." The rogues went thither, dug and found pure gold. Then they la=
id
hold of it, ran away, and left their pots and bowls behind in the house.
Catherine though she must use her new things, and as she had no lack in the=
kitchen
already without these, she knocked the bottom out of every pot, and set them
all as ornaments on the paling which went round about the house. When Frede=
rick
came and saw the new decorations, he said, "Catherine, what have you b=
een
about?" "I have bought them, Frederick, for the counters which we=
re
under the cow's manger. I did not go there myself, the pedlars had to dig t=
hem
out for themselves." "Ah, wife," said Frederick, "what =
have
you done? Those were not counters, but pure gold, and all our wealth; you
should not have done that." "Indeed, Frederick," said she,
"I did not know that, you should have forewarned me."
Catherine
stood for a while and bethought to herself; then she said, "Listen,
Frederick, we will soon get the gold back again, we will run after the
thieves." "Come,
then," said Frederick, "we will try it; but take with you some bu=
tter
and cheese that we may have something to eat on the way." "Yes,
Frederick, I will take them." They set out, and as Frederick was the
better walker, Catherine followed him. "It is to my advantage,"
thought she, "when we turn back I shall be a little way in advance.&qu=
ot;
Then she came to a hill where there were deep ruts on both sides of the roa=
d.
"There one can see," said Catherine, "how they have torn and
skinned and galled the poor earth, it will never be whole again as long as =
it
lives," and in her heart's compassion she took her butter and smeared =
the
ruts right and left, that they might not be so hurt by the wheels, and as s=
he
was thus bending down in her charity, one of the cheeses rolled out of her
pocket down the hill. Said Catherine, "I have made my way once up here=
, I
will not go down again; another may run and fetch it back." So she took
another cheese and rolled it down. But the cheeses did not come back, so she
let a third run down, thinking. "Perhaps they are waiting for company,=
and
do not like to walk alone." As
all three stayed away she said, "I do not know what that can mean, but=
it may
perhaps be that the third has not found the way, and has gone wrong, I will
just send the fourth to call it." But the fourth did no better than the
third. Then Catherine was angry, and threw down the fifth and sixth as well,
and these were her last. She remained standing for some time watching for t=
heir
coming, but when they still did not come, she said, "Oh, you are good
folks to send in search of death, you stay a fine long time away! Do you th=
ink
I will wait any longer for you? I shall go my way, you may run after me; you
have younger legs than I."
Catherine went on and found Frederick, who was standing waiting for =
her
because he wanted something to eat. "Now just let us have what you have
brought with you," said he. She gave him the dry bread. "Where ha=
ve
you the butter and the cheeses?" asked the man. "Ah, Freddy,"
said Catherine, "I smeared the cart-ruts with the butter and the chees=
es
will come soon; one ran away from me, so I sent the others after to call
it." Said Frederick, "You should not have done that, Catherine, to
smear the butter on the road, and let the cheeses run down the hill!"
"Really, Frederick, you should have told me." Then they ate the d=
ry
bread together, and Frederick said, "Catherine, did you make the house
safe when you came away?" "No, Frederick, you should have told me=
to
do it before." "Then go home again, and make the house safe befor=
e we
go any farther, and bring with you something else to eat. I will wait here =
for
you." Catherine went bac=
k and thought,
"Frederick wants something more to eat, he does not like butter and
cheese, so I will take with me a handkerchief full of dried pears and a pit=
cher
of vinegar for him to drink." Then she bolted the upper half of the do=
or
fast, but unhinged the lower door, and took it on her back, believing that =
when
she had placed the door in security the house must be well taken care of.
Catherine took her time on the way, and thought, "Frederick will rest
himself so much the longer." When she had once reached him she said,
"Here is the house-door for you, Frederick, and now you can take care =
of
the house yourself." "Oh, heavens," said he, "what a wi=
se
wife I have! She takes the under-door off the hinges that everything may run
in, and bolts the upper one. It is now too late to go back home again, but
since you have brought the door here, you shall just carry it farther."
"I will carry the door, Frederick, but the dried pears and the vinegar=
-jug
will be too heavy for me, I will hang them on the door, it may carry
them."
And
now they went into the forest, and sought the rogues, but did not find them=
. At length as it grew dark they cli=
mbed
into a tree and resolved to spend the night there. Scarcely, however, had t=
hey
sat down at the top of it than the rascals came thither who carry away with
them what does not want to go, and find things before they are lost. They s=
at
down under the very tree in which Frederick and Catherine were sitting, lig=
hted
a fire, and were about to share their booty. Frederick got down on the other si=
de and
collected some stones together. Then he climbed up again with them, and wis=
hed
to throw them at the thieves and kill them. The stones, however, did not hit
them, and the knaves cried, "It will soon be morning, the wind is shak=
ing
down the fir-apples." Catherine still had the door on her back, and as=
it
pressed so heavily on her, she thought it was the fault of the dried pears,=
and
said, "Frederick, I must throw the pears down." "No, Catheri=
ne,
not now," he replied, "they might betray us." "Oh, but,
Frederick, I must! They weigh me down far too much." "Do it, then=
, and
be hanged!" Then the dried pears rolled down between the branches, and=
the
rascals below said, "The leaves are falling."
A
short time afterwards, as the door was still heavy, Catherine said, "A=
h,
Frederick, I must pour out the vinegar." "No, Catherine, you must=
not,
it might betray us." "Ah, but, Frederick, I must, it weighs me do=
wn
far too much." "Then do it and be hanged!" So she emptied out
the vinegar, and it besprinkled the robbers. They said amongst themselves, =
"The
dew is already falling." At length Catherine thought, "Can it rea=
lly be
the door which weighs me down so?" and said, "Frederick, I must t=
hrow
the door down." "No, not now, Catherine, it might discover us.&qu=
ot;
"Oh, but, Frederick, I must. It weighs me down far too much." "Oh, no, Catherine, do hold it
fast." "Ah, Frederick, I am letting it fall!" "Let it g=
o, then,
in the devil's name." Then it fell down with a violent clatter, and the
rascals below cried, "The devil is coming down the tree!" and they
ran away and left everything behind them. Early next morning, when the two =
came
down they found all their gold again, and carried it home.
When
they were once more at home, Frederick said, "And now, Catherine, you,
too, must be industrious and work." "Yes, Frederick, I will soon =
do that,
I will go into the field and cut corn." When Catherine got into the fi=
eld,
she said to herself, "Shall I eat before I cut, or shall I sleep befor=
e I
cut? Oh, I will eat first." Then
Catherine ate and eating made her sleepy, and she began to cut, and half in=
a
dream cut all her clothes to pieces, her apron, her gown, and her shift. Wh=
en
Catherine awoke again after a long sleep she was standing there half-naked,=
and
said to herself, "Is it I, or is it not I? Alas, it is not I." In=
the
meantime night came, and Catherine ran into the village, knocked at her
husband's window, and cried, "Frederick."
"What
is the matter?" "I should very much like to know if Catherine is =
in?"
"Yes, yes," replied Frederick, "she must be in and asleep.&q=
uot;
Said
she, "'Tis well, then I am certainly at home already," and ran aw=
ay.
Outside
Catherine found some vagabonds who were going to steal. Then she went to th=
em
and said, "I will help you to steal." The rascals thought that she
knew the situation of the place, and were willing. Catherine went in front =
of
the houses, and cried, "Good folks, have you anything? We want to
steal." The thieves thought to themselves, "That's a fine way of =
doing
things," and wished themselves once more rid of Catherine. Then they s=
aid
to her, "Outside the village the pastor has some turnips in the field.=
Go
there and pull up some turnips for us." Catherine went to the ground, =
and
began to pull them up, but was so idle that she did not gather them togethe=
r.
Then a man came by, saw her, and stood still and thought that it was the de=
vil
who was thus rooting amongst the turnips. He ran away into the village to t=
he
pastor, and said, "Mr. Pastor, the devil is in your turnip-ground, roo=
ting
up turnips." "Ah, heavens," answered the pastor, "I hav=
e a
lame foot, I cannot go out and drive him away." Said the man, "Th=
en I
will carry you on my back," and he carried him out on his back. And wh=
en
they came to the ground, Catherine arose and stood up her full height.
"Ah, the devil!" cr=
ied
the pastor, and both hurried away, and in his great fright the pastor could=
run
better with his lame foot than the man who had carried him on his back coul=
d do
with his sound one.
There
were once upon a time two brothers, one rich and the other poor. The rich o=
ne
was a goldsmith and evil-hearted. The poor one supported himself by making
brooms, and was good and honourable. The poor one had two children, who were
twin brothers and as like each other as two drops of water. The two boys we=
nt
backwards and forwards to the rich house, and often got some of the scraps =
to
eat. It happened once when the poor man was going into the forest to fetch
brush-wood, that he saw a bird which was quite golden and more beautiful th=
an
any he had ever chanced to meet with. He picked up a small stone, threw it =
at
him, and was lucky enough to hit him, but one golden feather only fell down=
, and
the bird flew away. The man took the feather and carried it to his brother,=
who
looked at it and said, "It is pure gold!" and gave him a great de=
al
of money for it. Next day the man climbed into a birch-tree, and was about =
to
cut off a couple of branches when the same bird flew out, and when the man
searched he found a nest, and an egg lay inside it, which was of gold. He t=
ook
the egg home with him, and carried it to his brother, who again said, "=
;It
is pure gold," and gave him what it was worth. At last the goldsmith s=
aid,
"I should indeed like to have the bird itself." The poor man went
into the forest for the third time, and again saw the golden bird sitting on
the tree, so he took a stone and brought it down and carried it to his brot=
her,
who gave him a great heap of gold for it. "Now I can get on," tho=
ught
he, and went contentedly home.
The
goldsmith was crafty and cunning, and knew very well what kind of a bird it
was. He called his wife and said, "Roast me the gold bird, and take ca=
re
that none of it is lost. I have a fancy to eat it all myself." The bir=
d,
however, was no common one, but of so wondrous a kind that whosoever ate its
heart and liver found every morning a piece of gold beneath his pillow. The
woman made the bird ready, put it on the spit, and let it roast. Now it
happened that while it was at the fire, and the woman was forced to go out =
of
the kitchen on account of some other work, the two children of the poor
broom-maker ran in, stood by the spit and turned it round once or twice. An=
d as
at that very moment two little bits of the bird fell down into the dripping=
-tin,
one of the boys said, "We will eat these two little bits; I am so hung=
ry,
and no one will ever miss them." Then the two ate the pieces, but the
woman came into the kitchen and saw that they were eating something and sai=
d, "What
have ye been eating?" "Two little morsels which fell out of the b=
ird,"
answered they. "That must have been the heart and the liver," said
the woman, quite frightened, and in order that her husband might not miss t=
hem
and be angry, she quickly killed a young cock, took out his heart and liver,
and put them beside the golden bird. When it was ready, she carried it to t=
he
goldsmith, who consumed it all alone, and left none of it. Next morning,
however, when he felt beneath his pillow, and expected to bring out the pie=
ce
of gold, no more gold pieces were there than there had always been.
The
two children did not know what a piece of good-fortune had fallen to their =
lot.
Next morning when they arose, something fell rattling to the ground, and wh=
en
they picked it up there were two gold pieces! They took them to their fathe=
r,
who was astonished and said, "How can that have happened?" When n=
ext
morning they again found two, and so on daily, he went to his brother and t=
old
him the strange story. The goldsmith at once knew how it had come to pass, =
and
that the children had eaten the heart and liver of the golden bird, and in
order to revenge himself, and because he was envious and hard-hearted, he s=
aid
to the father, "Thy children are in league with the Evil One, do not t=
ake
the gold, and do not suffer them to stay any longer in thy house, for he has
them in his power, and may ruin thee likewise." The father feared the =
Evil
One, and painful as it was to him, he nevertheless led the twins forth into=
the
forest, and with a sad heart left them there.
And
now the two children ran about the forest, and sought the way home again, b=
ut
could not find it, and only lost themselves more and more. At length they m=
et
with a huntsman, who asked, "To whom do you children belong?"
"We are the poor broom-maker's boys," they replied, and they told=
him
that their father would not keep them any longer in the house because a pie=
ce
of gold lay every morning under their pillows. "Come," said the
huntsman, "that is nothing so very bad, if at the same time you keep h=
onest,
and are not idle." As the good man liked the children, and had none of=
his
own, he took them home with him and said, "I will be your father, and
bring you up till you are big." They learnt huntsmanship from him, and=
the
piece of gold which each of them found when he awoke, was kept for them by =
him
in case they should need it in the future.
When
they were grown up, their foster-father one day took them into the forest w=
ith
him, and said, "To-day shall you make your trial shot, so that I may
release you from your apprenticeship, and make you huntsmen." They went
with him to lie in wait and stayed there a long time, but no game appeared.=
The
huntsman, however, looked above him and saw a covey of wild geese flying in=
the
form of a triangle, and said to one of them, "Shoot me down one from e=
ach
corner." He did it, and thus accomplished his trial shot. Soon after
another covey came flying by in the form of the figure two, and the huntsman
bade the other also bring down one from each corner, and his trial shot was
likewise successful. "Now," said the foster-father, "I prono=
unce
you out of your apprenticeship; you are skilled huntsmen." Thereupon t=
he
two brothers went forth together into the forest, and took counsel with each
other and planned something. And in the evening when they had sat down to
supper, they said to their foster-father, "We will not touch food, or =
take
one mouthful, until you have granted us a request." Said he, "What, then, is your=
request?"
They replied, "We have now finished learning, and we must prove oursel=
ves
in the world, so allow us to go away and travel." Then spake the old m=
an
joyfully, "You talk like brave huntsmen, that which you desire has bee=
n my
wish; go forth, all will go well with you." Thereupon they ate and dra=
nk
joyously together.
When
the appointed day came, their foster-father presented each of them with a g=
ood
gun and a dog, and let each of them take as many of his saved-up gold piece=
s as
he chose. Then he accompanied them a part of the way, and when taking leave=
, he
gave them a bright knife, and said, "If ever you separate, stick this
knife into a tree at the place where you part, and when one of you goes bac=
k,
he will will be able to see how his absent brother is faring, for the side =
of
the knife which is turned in the direction by which he went, will rust if he
dies, but will remain bright as long as he is alive." The two brothers
went still farther onwards, and came to a forest which was so large that it=
was
impossible for them to get out of it in one day. So they passed the night in
it, and ate what they had put in their hunting-pouches, but they walked all=
the
second day likewise, and still did not get out. As they had nothing to eat,=
one
of them said, "We must shoot something for ourselves or we shall suffer
from hunger," and loaded his gun, and looked about him. And when an old
hare came running up towards them, he laid his gun on his shoulder, but the
hare cried,
"Dear huntsman, do but let me =
live, Two little ones to thee I'll give,&=
quot;
and
sprang instantly into the thicket, and brought two young ones. But the litt=
le
creatures played so merrily, and were so pretty, that the huntsmen could not
find it in their hearts to kill them. They therefore kept them with them, a=
nd
the little hares followed on foot. Soon after this, a fox crept past; they =
were
just going to shoot it, but the fox cried,
"Dear hunstman, do but let me =
live, Two little ones I'll also give.&quo=
t;
He,
too, brought two little foxes, and the huntsmen did not like to kill them
either, but gave them to the hares for company, and they followed behind. It
was not long before a wolf strode out of the thicket; the huntsmen made rea=
dy
to shoot him, but the wolf cried,
"Dear huntsman, do but let me =
live, Two little ones I'll likewise give.=
"
The
huntsmen put the two wolves beside the other animals, and they followed beh=
ind
them. Then a bear came who wanted to trot about a little longer, and cried:=
"Dear huntsman, do but let me =
live, Two little ones I, too, will give.&=
quot;
The
two young bears were added to the others, and there were already eight of t=
hem.
At length who came? A lion came, and tossed his mane. But the huntsmen did =
not
let themselves be frightened and aimed at him likewise, but the lion also s=
aid,
"Dear huntsman, do but let me =
live, Two little ones I, too, will give.&=
quot;
And he
brought his little ones to them, and now the huntsmen had two lions, two be=
ars,
two wolves, two foxes, and two hares, who followed them and served them. In=
thu
meantime their hunger was not appeased by this, and they said to the foxes,
"Hark ye, cunning fellows, provide us with something to eat. You are
crafty and deep." They replied, "Not far from here lies a village,
from which we have already brought many a fowl; we will show you the way
there." So they went into the village, bought themselves something to =
eat,
had some food given to their beasts, and then travelled onwards. The foxes,
however, knew their way very well about the district and where the
poultry-yards were, and were able to guide the huntsmen.
Now
they travelled about for a while, but could find no situations where they c=
ould
remain together, so they said, "There is nothing else for it, we must
part." They divided the
animals, so that each of them had a lion, a bear, a wolf, a fox, and a hare,
then they took leave of each other, promised to love each other like brothe=
rs
till their death, and stuck the knife which their foster-father had given t=
hem,
into a tree, after which one went east, and the other went west.
The
younger, however, arrived with his beasts in a town which was all hung with
black crape. He went into an inn, and asked the host if he could accommodate
his animals. The innkeeper gave him a stable, where there was a hole in the
wall, and the hare crept out and fetched himself the head of a cabbage, and=
the
fox fetched himself a hen, and when he had devoured that got the cock as we=
ll,
but the wolf, the bear, and the lion could not get out because they were too
big. Then the innkeeper let t=
hem be
taken to a place where a cow was just then lying on the grass, that they mi=
ght
eat till they were satisfied. And when the huntsman had taken care of his
animals, he asked the innkeeper why the town was thus hung with black crape?
Said the host, "Because our King's only daughter is to die
to-morrow." The huntsman inquired if she was "sick unto death?&qu=
ot;
"No," answered the host, "she is vigorous and healthy, never=
theless
she must die!" "How=
is
that?" asked the huntsman. "There is a high hill without the town,
whereon dwells a dragon who every year must have a pure virgin, or he lays =
the
whole country waste, and now all the maidens have already been given to him,
and there is no longer anyone left but the King's daughter, yet there is no
mercy for her; she must be given up to him, and that is to be done to-morro=
w."
Said the huntsman, "Why is the dragon not killed?" "Ah,"
replied the host, "so many knights have tried it, but it has cost all =
of
them their lives. The King has promised that he who conquers the dragon sha=
ll
have his daughter to wife, and shall likewise govern the kingdom after his =
own
death."
The
huntsman said nothing more to this, but next morning took his animals, and =
with
them ascended the dragon's hill. A little church stood at the top of it, an=
d on
the altar three full cups were standing, with the inscription, "Whosoe=
ver
empties the cups will become the strongest man on earth, and will be able to
wield the sword which is buried before the threshold of the door." The
huntsman did not drink, but went out and sought for the sword in the ground,
but was unable to move it from its place. Then he went in and emptied the c=
ups,
and now he was strong enough to take up the sword, and his hand could quite
easily wield it. When the hour came when the maiden was to be delivered ove=
r to
the dragon, the King, the marshal, and courtiers accompanied her. From afar=
she
saw the huntsman on the dragon's hill, and thought it was the dragon standi=
ng there
waiting for her, and did not want to go up to him, but at last, because
otherwise the whole town would have been destroyed, she was forced to go the
miserable journey. The King and courtiers returned home full of grief; the
King's marshal, however, was to stand still, and see all from a distance.
When
the King's daughter got to the top of the hill, it was not the dragon which
stood there, but the young huntsman, who comforted her, and said he would s=
ave
her, led her into the church, and locked her in. It was not long before the
seven-headed dragon came thither with loud roaring. When he perceived the
huntsman, he was astonished and said, "What business hast thou here on=
the
hill?" The huntsman answered, "I want to fight with thee." S=
aid
the dragon, "Many knights have left their lives here, I shall soon have
made an end of thee too," and he breathed fire out of seven jaws. The =
fire
was to have lighted the dry grass, and the huntsman was to have been suffoc=
ated
in the heat and smoke, but the animals came running up and trampled out the
fire. Then the dragon rushed upon the huntsman, but he swung his sword unti=
l it
sang through the air, and struck off three of his heads. Then the dragon gr=
ew
right furious, and rose up in the air, and spat out flames of fire over the
huntsman, and was about to plunge down on him, but the huntsman once more d=
rew
out his sword, and again cut off three of his heads. The monster became fai=
nt and
sank down, nevertheless it was just able to rush upon the huntsman, but he =
with
his last strength smote its tail off, and as he could fight no longer, call=
ed
up his animals who tore it in pieces. When the struggle was ended, the hunt=
sman
unlocked the church, and found the King's daughter lying on the floor, as s=
he
had lost her senses with anguish and terror during the contest. He carried =
her
out, and when she came to herself once more, and opened her eyes, he showed=
her
the dragon all cut to pieces, and told her that she was now delivered. She
rejoiced and said, "Now thou wilt be my dearest husband, for my father=
has
promised me to him who kills the dragon." Thereupon she took off her necklac=
e of coral,
and divided it amongst the animals in order to reward them, and the lion
received the golden clasp. Her pocket-handkerchief, however, on which was h=
er
name, she gave to the huntsman, who went and cut the tongues out of the
dragon's seven heads, wrapped them in the handkerchief, and preserved them
carefully.
That
done, as he was so faint and weary with the fire and the battle, he said to=
the
maiden, "We are both faint and weary, we will sleep awhile." Then=
she
said, "yes," and they lay down on the ground, and the huntsman sa=
id
to the lion, "Thou shalt keep watch, that no one surprises us in our
sleep," and both fell asleep. The lion lay down beside them to watch, =
but
he also was so weary with the fight, that he called to the bear and said,
"Lie down near me, I must sleep a little: if anything comes, waken
me." Then the bear lay down beside him, but he also was tired, and cal=
led
the wolf and said, "Lie down by me, I must sleep a little, but if anyt=
hing
comes, waken me." Then the wolf lay down by him, but he was tired
likewise, and called the fox and said, "Lie down by me, I must sleep a
little; if anything comes, waken me." Then the fox lay down beside him,
but he too was weary, and called the hare and said, "Lie down near me,=
I
must sleep a little, and if anything should come, waken me." Then the =
hare
sat down by him, but the poor hare was tired too, and had no one whom he co=
uld
call there to keep watch, and fell asleep. And now the King's daughter, the
huntsman, the lion, the bear, the wolf, the fox, and the hare, were all
sleeping a sound sleep. The marshal, however, who was to look on from a
distance, took courage when he did not see the dragon flying away with the
maiden, and finding that all the hill had become quiet, ascended it. There =
lay
the dragon hacked and hewn to pieces on the ground, and not far from it were
the King's daughter and a huntsman with his animals, and all of them were s=
unk
in a sound sleep. And as he was wicked and godless he took his sword, cut o=
ff
the huntsman's head, and seized the maiden in his arms, and carried her down
the hill. Then she awoke and was terrified, but the marshal said, "Thou
art in my hands, thou shalt say that it was I who killed the dragon."
"I cannot do that," she replied, "for it was a huntsman with=
his
animals who did it." Then he drew his sword, and threatened to kill he=
r if
she did not obey him, and so compelled her that she promised it. Then he to=
ok
her to the King, who did not know how to contain himself for joy when he on=
ce
more looked on his dear child in life, whom he had believed to have been to=
rn
to pieces by the monster. The marshal said to him, "I have killed the
dragon, and delivered the maiden and the whole kingdom as well, therefore I
demand her as my wife, as was promised." The King said to the maiden, =
"Is
what he says true?" &quo=
t;Ah,
yes," she answered, "it must indeed be true, but I will not conse=
nt
to have the wedding celebrated until after a year and a day," for she
thought in that time she should hear something of her dear huntsman.
The
animals, however, were still lying sleeping beside their dead master on the
dragon's hill, and there came a great humble-bee and lighted on the hare's
nose, but the hare wiped it off with his paw, and went on sleeping. The
humble-bee came a second time, but the hare again rubbed it off and slept o=
n.
Then it came for the third time, and stung his nose so that he awoke. As so=
on
as the hare was awake, he roused the fox, and the fox, the wolf, and the wo=
lf
the bear, and the bear the lion. And when the lion awoke and saw that the
maiden was gone, and his master was dead, he began to roar frightfully and
cried, "Who has done that?
Bear, why didst thou not waken me?" The bear asked the wolf,
"Why didst thou not waken me?" and the wolf the fox, "Why di=
dst
thou not waken me?" and the fox the hare, "Why didst thou not wak=
en
me?" The poor hare alone did not know what answer to make, and the bla=
me
rested with him. Then they were just going to fall upon him, but he entreat=
ed
them and said, "Kill me not, I will bring our master to life again. I =
know
a mountain on which a root grows which, when placed in the mouth of any one,
cures him of all illness and every wound. But the mountain lies two hundred=
hours
journey from here." The lion said, "In four-and-twenty hours must=
thou
have run thither and have come back, and have brought the root with thee.&q=
uot;
Then the hare sprang away, and in four-and-twenty hours he was back, and
brought the root with him. The lion put the huntsman's head on again, and t=
he
hare placed the root in his mouth, and immediately everything united togeth=
er
again, and his heart beat, and life came back. Then the huntsman awoke, and=
was
alarmed when he did not see the maiden, and thought, "She must have go=
ne
away whilst I was sleeping, in order to get rid of me." The lion in his
great haste had put his master's head on the wrong way round, but the hunts=
man
did not observe it because of his melancholy thoughts about the King's
daughter. But at noon, when he was going to eat something, he saw that his =
head
was turned backwards and could not understand it, and asked the animals wha=
t had
happened to him in his sleep. Then the lion told him that they, too, had all
fallen asleep from weariness, and on awaking, had found him dead with his h=
ead
cut off, that the hare had brought the life-giving root, and that he, in his
haste, had laid hold of the head the wrong way, but that he would repair his
mistake. Then he tore the huntsman's head off again, turned it round, and t=
he
hare healed it with the root.
The
huntsman, however, was sad at heart, and travelled about the world, and made
his animals dance before people. It came to pass that precisely at the end =
of
one year he came back to the same town where he had delivered the King's
daughter from the dragon, and this time the town was gaily hung with red
cloth. Then he said to the ho=
st,
"What does this mean? Last year the town was all hung with black crape,
what means the red cloth to-day?" The host answered, "Last year o=
ur
King's daughter was to have been delivered over to the dragon, but the mars=
hal
fought with it and killed it, and so to-morrow their wedding is to be
solemnized, and that is why the town was then hung with black crape for
mourning, and is to-day covered with red cloth for joy?"
Next
day when the wedding was to take place, the huntsman said at mid-day to the
inn-keeper, "Do you believe, sir host, that I while with you here to-d=
ay
shall eat bread from the King's own table?" "Nay," said the
host, "I would bet a hundred pieces of gold that that will not come tr=
ue."
The huntsman accepted the wager, and set against it a purse with just the s=
ame
number of gold pieces. Then he called the hare and said, "Go, my dear
runner, and fetch me some of the bread which the King is eating." Now =
the
little hare was the lowest of the animals, and could not transfer this orde=
r to
any the others, but had to get on his legs himself. "Alas!" thoug=
ht
he, "if I bound through the streets thus alone, the butchers' dogs will
all be after me." It happened as he expected, and the dogs came after =
him
and wanted to make holes in his good skin. But he sprang away, have you have
never seen one running? and sheltered himself in a sentry-box without the
soldier being aware of it. Then the dogs came and wanted to have him out, b=
ut
the soldier did not understand a jest, and struck them with the butt-end of=
his
gun, till they ran away yelling and howling. As soon as the hare saw that t=
he
way was clear, he ran into the palace and straight to the King's daughter, =
sat
down under her chair, and scratched at her foot. Then she said, "Wilt =
thou
get away?" and thought it was her dog. The hare scratched her foot for=
the
second time, and she again said, "Wilt thou get away?" and though=
t it
was her dog. But the hare did not let itself be turned from its purpose, and
scratched her for the third time. Then she peeped down, and knew the hare by
its collar. She took him on h=
er
lap, carried him into her chamber, and said, "Dear Hare, what dost thou
want?" He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, a=
nd
has sent me to ask for a loaf of bread like that which the King eats."
Then she was full of joy and had the baker summoned, and ordered him to bri=
ng a
loaf such as was eaten by the King. The little hare said, "But the bak=
er
must likewise carry it thither for me, that the butchers' dogs may do no ha=
rm
to me." The baker carried if for him as far as the door of the inn, and
then the hare got on his hind legs, took the loaf in his front paws, and
carried it to his master. Then said the huntsman, "Behold, sir host, t=
he
hundred pieces of gold are mine." The host was astonished, but the hun=
tsman
went on to say, "Yes, sir host, I have the bread, but now I will likew=
ise
have some of the King's roast meat."
The
host said, "I should indeed like to see that," but he would make =
no
more wagers. The huntsman called the fox and said, "My little fox, go =
and
fetch me some roast meat, such as the King eats." The red fox knew the
bye-ways better, and went by holes and corners without any dog seeing him,
seated himself under the chair of the King's daughter, and scratched her fo=
ot.
Then she looked down and recognized the fox by its collar, took him into her
chamber with her and said, "Dear fox, what dost thou want?" He
answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, and has sent me.=
I
am to ask for some roast meat such as the King is eating." Then she ma=
de
the cook come, who was obliged to prepare a roast joint, the same as was ea=
ten
by the King, and to carry it for the fox as far as the door. Then the fox t=
ook
the dish, waved away with his tail the flies which had settled on the meat,=
and
then carried it to his master. "Behold, sir host," said the hunts=
man,
"bread and meat are here but now I will also have proper vegetables wi=
th it,
such as are eaten by the King." Then he called the wolf, and said, &qu=
ot;Dear
Wolf, go thither and fetch me vegetables such as the King eats." Then =
the
wolf went straight to the palace, as he feared no one, and when he got to t=
he
King's daughter's chamber, he twitched at the back of her dress, so that she
was forced to look round. She recognized him by his collar, and took him in=
to
her chamber with her, and said, "Dear Wolf, what dost thou want?"=
He
answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, I am to ask for =
some
vegetables, such as the King eats." Then she made the cook come, and he
had to make ready a dish of vegetables, such as the King ate, and had to ca=
rry
it for the wolf as far as the door, and then the wolf took the dish from hi=
m,
and carried it to his master. "Behold, sir host," said the huntsm=
an,
"now I have bread and meat and vegetables, but I will also have some
pastry to eat like that which the King eats." He called the bear, and
said, "Dear Bear, thou art fond of licking anything sweet; go and brin=
g me
some confectionery, such as the King eats." Then the bear trotted to t=
he
palace, and every one got out of his way, but when he went to the guard, th=
ey
presented their muskets, and would not let him go into the royal palace. Bu=
t he
got up on his hind legs, and gave them a few boxes on the ears, right and l=
eft,
with his paws, so that the whole watch broke up, and then he went straight =
to
the King's daughter, placed himself behind her, and growled a little. Then she looked behind her, knew t=
he
bear, and bade him go into her room with her, and said, "Dear Bear, wh=
at
dost thou want?" He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, =
is
here, and I am to ask for some confectionery, such as the King eats." =
Then
she summoned her confectioner, who had to bake confectionery such as the Ki=
ng
ate, and carry it to the door for the bear; then the bear first licked up t=
he comfits
which had rolled down, and then he stood upright, took the dish, and carrie=
d it
to his master. "Behold, sir host," said the huntsman, "now I
have bread, meat, vegetables and confectionery, but I will drink wine also,=
and
such as the King drinks." He called his lion to him and said, "De=
ar
Lion, thou thyself likest to drink till thou art intoxicated, go and fetch =
me
some wine, such as is drunk by the King." Then the lion strode through=
the
streets, and the people fled from him, and when he came to the watch, they
wanted to bar the way against him, but he did but roar once, and they all r=
an
away. Then the lion went to the royal apartment, and knocked at the door wi=
th
his tail. Then the King's daughter came forth, and was almost afraid of the
lion, but she knew him by the golden clasp of her necklace, and bade him go
with her into her chamber, and said, "Dear Lion, what wilt thou
have?" He answered, "My master, who killed the dragon, is here, a=
nd I
am to ask for some wine such as is drunk by the King." Then she bade t=
he
cup-bearer be called, who was to give the lion some wine like that which was
drunk by the King. The lion said, "I will go with him, and see that I =
get
the right wine." Then he went down with the cup-bearer, and when they =
were
below, the cup-bearer wanted to draw him some of the common wine that was d=
runk
by the King's servants, but the lion said, "Stop, I will taste the wine
first," and he drew half a measure, and swallowed it down at one draug=
ht.
"No," said he, "that is not right." The cup-bearer look=
ed
at him askance, but went on, and was about to give him some out of another
barrel which was for the King's marshal. The lion said, "Stop, let me
taste the wine first," and drew half a measure and drank it. "Tha=
t is
better, but still not right," said he. Then the cup-bearer grew angry =
and
said, "How can a stupid animal like you understand wine?" But the
lion gave him a blow behind the ears, which made him fall down by no means
gently, and when he had got up again, he conducted the lion quite silently =
into
a little cellar apart, where the King's wine lay, from which no one ever dr=
ank.
The lion first drew half a measure and tried the wine, and then he said, Th=
at
may possibly be the right sort, and bade the cup-bearer fill six bottles of=
it.
And now they went upstairs again, but when the lion came out of the cellar =
into
the open air, he reeled here and there, and was rather drunk, and the
cup-bearer was forced to carry the wine as far as the door for him, and then
the lion took the handle of the basket in his mouth, and took it to his mas=
ter.
The huntsman said, "Behold, sir host, here have I bread, meat, vegetab=
les,
confectionery and wine such as the King has, and now I will dine with my
animals," and he sat down and ate and drank, and gave the hare, the fo=
x,
the wolf, the bear, and the lion also to eat and to drink, and was joyful, =
for
he saw that the King's daughter still loved him. And when he had finished h=
is
dinner, he said, "Sir host, now have I eaten and drunk, as the King ea=
ts
and drinks, and now I will go to the King's court and marry the King's
daughter." Said the host, "How can that be, when she already has a
betrothed husband, and when the wedding is to be solemnized to-day?" T=
hen
the huntsman drew forth the handkerchief which the King's daughter had given
him on the dragon's hill, and in which were folded the monster's seven tong=
ues,
and said, "That which I hold in my hand shall help me to do it." =
Then
the innkeeper looked at the handkerchief, and said, "Whatever I believ=
e, I
do not believe that, and I am willing to stake my house and courtyard on
it." The huntsman, however, took a bag with a thousand gold pieces, pu=
t it
on the table, and said, "I stake that on it."
Now
the King said to his daughter, at the royal table, "What did all the w=
ild
animals want, which have been coming to thee, and going in and out of my
palace?" She replied, "I may not tell you, but send and have the =
master
of these animals brought, and you will do well." The King sent a serva=
nt
to the inn, and invited the stranger, and the servant came just as the hunt=
sman
had laid his wager with the innkeeper. Then said he, "Behold, sir host,
now the King sends his servant and invites me, but I do not go in this
way." And he said to the servant, "I request the Lord King to sen=
d me
royal clothing, and a carriage with six horses, and servants to attend
me." When the King heard the answer, he said to his daughter, "Wh=
at
shall I do?" She said, "Cause him to be fetched as he desires to =
be,
and you will do well." Then the King sent royal apparel, a carriage wi=
th
six horses, and servants to wait on him. When the huntsman saw them coming,=
he
said, "Behold, sir host, now I am fetched as I desired to be," an=
d he
put on the royal garments, took the handkerchief with the dragon's tongues =
with
him, and drove off to the King. When the King saw him coming, he said to his
daughter, "How shall I receive him?" She answered, "Go to me=
et
him and you will do well."
Then the King went to meet him and led him in, and his animals follo=
wed.
The King gave him a seat near himself and his daughter, and the marshal, as
bridegroom, sat on the other side, but no longer knew the huntsman. And now=
at
this very moment, the seven heads of the dragon were brought in as a specta=
cle,
and the King said, "The seven heads were cut off the dragon by the
marshal, wherefore to-day I give him my daughter to wife." The the
huntsman stood up, opened the seven mouths, and said, "Where are the s=
even
tongues of the dragon?" Then was the marshal terrified, and grew pale =
and
knew not what answer he should make, and at length in his anguish he said,
"Dragons have no tongues." The huntsman said, "Liars ought to
have none, but the dragon's tongues are the tokens of the victor," and=
he
unfolded the handkerchief, and there lay all seven inside it. And he put ea=
ch
tongue in the mouth to which it belonged, and it fitted exactly. Then he to=
ok
the handkerchief on which the name of the princess was embroidered, and sho=
wed it
to the maiden, and asked to whom she had given it, and she replied, "To
him who killed the dragon." And then he called his animals, and took t=
he
collar off each of them and the golden clasp from the lion, and showed them=
to
the maiden and asked to whom they belonged. She answered, "The necklace
and golden clasp were mine, but I divided them among the animals who helped=
to
conquer the dragon." Then spake the huntsman, "When I, tired with=
the
fight, was resting and sleeping, the marshal came and cut off my head. Then=
he
carried away the King's daughter, and gave out that it was he who had killed
the dragon, but that he lied I prove with the tongues, the handkerchief, and
the necklace." And then he related how his animals had healed him by m=
eans
of a wonderful root, and how he had travelled about with them for one year,=
and
had at length again come there and had learnt the treachery of the marshal =
by
the inn-keeper's story. Then the King asked his daughter, "Is it true =
that
this man killed the dragon?" And she answered, "Yes, it is true. =
Now can
I reveal the wicked deed of the marshal, as it has come to light without my
connivance, for he wrung from me a promise to be silent. For this reason,
however, did I make the condition that the marriage should not be solemnized
for a year and a day." Then the King bade twelve councillors be summon=
ed
who were to pronounce judgment on the marshal, and they sentenced him to be
torn to pieces by four bulls. The marshal was therefore executed, but the K=
ing
gave his daughter to the huntsman, and named him his viceroy over the whole
kingdom. The wedding was celebrated with great joy, and the young King caus=
ed
his father and his foster-father to be brought, and loaded them with treasu=
res.
Neither did he forget the inn-keeper, but sent for him and said, "Beho=
ld,
sir host, I have married the King's daughter, and your house and yard are
mine." The host said, "Yes, according to justice it is so." =
But
the young King said, "It shall be done according to mercy," and t=
old
him that he should keep his house and yard, and gave him the thousand piece=
s of
gold as well.
And
now the young King and Queen were thoroughly happy, and lived in gladness
together. He often went out hunting because it was a delight to him, and the
faithful animals had to accompany him. In the neighborhood, however, there =
was
a forest of which it was reported that it was haunted, and that whosoever d=
id
but enter it did not easily get out again. The young King, however, had a g=
reat
inclination to hunt in it, and let the old King have no peace until he allo=
wed
him to do so. So he rode forth with a great following, and when he came to =
the
forest, he saw a snow-white hart and said to his people, "Wait here un=
til
I return, I want to chase that beautiful creature," and he rode into t=
he
forest after it, followed only by his animals. The attendants halted and wa=
ited
until evening, but he did not return, so they rode home, and told the young=
Queen
that the young King had followed a white hart into the enchanted forest, and
had not come back again. Then she was in the greatest concern about him. He,
however, had still continued to ride on and on after the beautiful wild ani=
mal,
and had never been able to overtake it; when he thought he was near enough =
to
aim, he instantly saw it bound away into the far distance, and at length it
vanished altogether. And now he perceived that he had penetrated deep into =
the
forest, and blew his horn but he received no answer, for his attendants cou=
ld
not hear it. And as night, too, was falling, he saw that he could not get h=
ome
that day, so he dismounted from his horse, lighted himself a fire near a tr=
ee, and
resolved to spend the night by it.
While he was sitting by the fire, and his animals also were lying do=
wn
beside him, it seemed to him that he heard a human voice. He looked round, =
but
could perceived nothing. Soon afterwards, he again heard a groan as if from
above, and then he looked up, and saw an old woman sitting in the tree, who
wailed unceasingly, "Oh, oh, oh, how cold I am!" Said he, "C=
ome
down, and warm thyself if thou art cold." But she said, "No, thy
animals will bite me." He answered, "They will do thee no harm, o=
ld
mother, do come down." She, however, was a witch, and said, "I wi=
ll
throw down a wand from the tree, and if thou strikest them on the back with=
it,
they will do me no harm." Then she threw him a small wand, and he stru=
ck
them with it, and instantly they lay still and were turned into stone. And =
when
the witch was safe from the animals, she leapt down and touched him also wi=
th a
wand, and changed him to stone. Thereupon she laughed, and dragged him and =
the
animals into a vault, where many more such stones already lay.
As,
however, the young King did not come back at all, the Queen's anguish and c=
are
grew constantly greater. And it so happened that at this very time the other
brother who had turned to the east when they separated, came into the
kingdom. He had sought a situ=
ation,
and had found none, and had then travelled about here and there, and had ma=
de
his animals dance. Then it came into his mind that he would just go and loo=
k at
the knife that they had thrust in the trunk of a tree at their parting, tha=
t he
might learn how his brother was. When he got there his brother's side of the
knife was half rusted, and half bright. Then he was alarmed and thought,
"A great misfortune must have befallen my brother, but perhaps I can s=
till
save him, for half the knife is still bright." He and his animals
travelled towards the west, and when he entered the gate of the town, the g=
uard
came to meet him, and asked if he was to announce him to his consort the yo=
ung
Queen, who had for a couple of days been in the greatest sorrow about his
staying away, and was afraid he had been killed in the enchanted forest? The
sentries, indeed, thought no otherwise than that he was the young King hims=
elf,
for he looked so like him, and had wild animals running behind him. Then he=
saw
that they were speaking of his brother, and thought, "It will be bette=
r if
I pass myself off for him, and then I can rescue him more easily." So =
he
allowed himself to be escorted into the castle by the guard, and was receiv=
ed
with the greatest joy. The young Queen indeed thought that he was her husba=
nd,
and asked him why he had stayed away so long. He answered, "I had lost
myself in a forest, and could not find my way out again any sooner." At
night he was taken to the royal bed, but he laid a two-edged sword between =
him
and the young Queen; she did not know what that could mean, but did not ven=
ture
to ask.
He
remained in the palace a couple of days, and in the meantime inquired into
everything which related to the enchanted forest, and at last he said, &quo=
t;I
must hunt there once more." The King and the young Queen wanted to
persuade him not to do it, but he stood out against them, and went forth wi=
th a
larger following. When he had got into the forest, it fared with him as with
his brother; he saw a white hart and said to his people, "Stay here, a=
nd
wait until I return, I want to chase the lovely wild beast," and then =
he
rode into the forest and his animals ran after him. But he could not overta=
ke
the hart, and got so deep into the forest that he was forced to pass the ni=
ght
there. And when he had lighted a fire, he heard some one wailing above him,
"Oh, oh, oh, how cold I am!" Then he looked up, and the self-same
witch was sitting in the tree. Said he, "If thou art cold, come down,
little old mother, and warm thyself." She answered, "No, thy anim=
als
will bite me." But he said, "They will not hurt thee." Then =
she
cried, "I will throw down a wand to thee, and if thou smitest them wit=
h it
they will do me no harm." When the huntsman heard that, he had no
confidence in the old woman, and said, "I will not strike my animals. =
Come
down, or I will fetch thee." Then she cried, "What dost thou want?
Thou shalt not touch me." But he replied, "If thou dost not come,=
I
will shoot thee." Said she, "Shoot away, I do not fear thy
bullets!" Then he aimed, and fired at her, but the witch was proof aga=
inst
all leaden bullets, and laughed, and yelled and cried, "Thou shalt not=
hit
me." The huntsman knew what to do, tore three silver buttons off his c=
oat,
and loaded his gun with them, for against them her arts were useless, and w=
hen
he fired she fell down at once with a scream. Then he set his foot on her a=
nd
said, Old witch, if thou dost not instantly confess where my brother is, I =
will
seize thee with both my hands and throw thee into the fire. She was in a gr=
eat
fright, begged for mercy and said, He and his animals lie in a vault, turne=
d to
stone. Then he compelled her to go thither with him, threatened her, and sa=
id,
Old sea-cat, now shalt thou make my brother and all the human beings lying
here, alive again, or thou shalt go into the fire! She took a wand and touc=
hed
the stones, and then his brother with his animals came to life again, and m=
any
others, merchants, artizans, and shepherds, arose, thanked him for their
deliverance, and went to their homes. But when the twin brothers saw each o=
ther
again, they kissed each other and rejoiced with all their hearts. Then they
seized the witch, bound her and laid her on the fire, and when she was burnt
the forest opened of its own accord, and was light and clear, and the King's
palace could be seen at about the distance of a three hours walk.
Thereupon
the two brothers went home together, and on the way told each other their
histories. And when the youngest said that he was ruler of the whole countr=
y in
the King's stead, the other observed, "That I remarked very well, for =
when
I came to the town, and was taken for thee, all royal honours were paid me;=
the
young Queen looked on me as her husband, and I had to eat at her side, and
sleep in thy bed." When the other heard that, he became so jealous and
angry that he drew his sword, and struck off his brother's head. But when he
saw him lying there dead, and saw his red blood flowing, he repented most
violently: "My brother delivered me," cried he, "and I have
killed him for it," and he bewailed him aloud. Then his hare came and
offered to go and bring some of the root of life, and bounded away and brou=
ght
it while yet there was time, and the dead man was brought to life again, and
knew nothing about the wound.
After
this they journeyed onwards, and the youngest said, "Thou lookest like=
me,
hast royal apparel on as I have, and the animals follow thee as they do me;=
we
will go in by opposite gates, and arrive at the same time from the two side=
s in
the aged King's presence." So they separated, and at the same time came
the watchmen from the one door and from the other, and announced that the y=
oung
King and the animals had returned from the chase. The King said, "It is
not possible, the gates lie quite a mile apart." In the meantime, howe=
ver,
the two brothers entered the courtyard of the palace from opposite sides, a=
nd
both mounted the steps. Then the King said to the daughter, "Say which=
is
thy husband. Each of them looks exactly like the other, I cannot tell."
Then she was in great distress, and could not tell; but at last she remembe=
red
the necklace which she had given to the animals, and she sought for and fou=
nd
her little golden clasp on the lion, and she cried in her delight, "He=
who
is followed by this lion is my true husband". Then the young King laug=
hed
and said, "Yes, he is the right one," and they sat down together =
to
table, and ate and drank, and were merry.&=
nbsp;
At night when the young King went to bed, his wife said, "Why h=
ast
thou for these last nights always laid a two-edged sword in our bed? I thou=
ght
thou hadst a wish to kill me." Then he knew how true his brother had b=
een.
There
was a certain village wherein no one lived but really rich peasants, and ju=
st
one poor one, whom they called the little peasant. He had not even so much =
as a
cow, and still less money to buy one, and yet he and his wife did so wish t=
o have
one. One day he said to her, "Hark you, I have a good thought, there is
our gossip the carpenter, he shall make us a wooden calf, and paint it brow=
n,
so that it look like any other, and in time it will certainly get big and b=
e a
cow." The woman also liked the idea, and their gossip the carpenter cut
and planed the calf, and painted it as it ought to be, and made it with its
head hanging down as if it were eating.
Next
morning when the cows were being driven out, the little peasant called the
cow-herd and said, "Look, I have a little calf there, but it is still
small and has still to be carried." The cow-herd said, "All right=
, and
took it in his arms and carried it to the pasture, and set it among the
grass." The little calf always remained standing like one which was ea=
ting,
and the cow-herd said, "It will soon run alone, just look how it eats
already!" At night when he was going to drive the herd home again, he =
said
to the calf, "If thou canst stand there and eat thy fill, thou canst a=
lso
go on thy four legs; I don't care to drag thee home again in my arms."=
But
the little peasant stood at his door, and waited for his little calf, and w=
hen
the cow-herd drove the cows through the village, and the calf was missing, =
he
inquired where it was. The cow-herd answered, "It is still standing out
there eating. It would not stop and come with us." But the little peas=
ant
said, "Oh, but I must have my beast back again." Then they went b=
ack
to the meadow together, but some one had stolen the calf, and it was gone. =
The
cow-herd said, "It must have run away." The peasant, however, sai=
d,
"Don't tell me that," and led the cow-herd before the mayor, who =
for
his carelessness condemned him to give the peasant a cow for the calf which=
had
run away.
And
now the little peasant and his wife had the cow for which they had so long
wished, and they were heartily glad, but they had no food for it, and could
give it nothing to eat, so it soon had to be killed. They salted the flesh,=
and
the peasant went into the town and wanted to sell the skin there, so that he
might buy a new calf with the proceeds. On the way he passed by a mill, and
there sat a raven with broken wings, and out of pity he took him and wrapped
him in the skin. As, however, the weather grew so bad and there was a storm=
of
rain and wind, he could go no farther, and turned back to the mill and begg=
ed
for shelter. The miller's wife was alone in the house, and said to the peas=
ant,
"Lay thyself on the straw there", and gave him a slice of bread w=
ith
cheese on it. The peasant ate it, and lay down with his skin beside him, and
the woman thought, "He is tired and has gone to sleep." In the me=
antime
came the parson; the miller's wife received him well, and said, "My
husband is out, so we will have a feast." The peasant listened, and wh=
en
he heard about feasting he was vexed that he had been forced to make shift =
with
a slice of bread with cheese on it. Then the woman served up four different
things, roast meat, salad, cakes, and wine.
Just as they were about to sit down and eat, there was a knocking outside. The w= oman said, "Oh, heavens! It is my husband!" She quickly hid the roast = meat inside the tiled stove, the wine under the pillow, the salad on the bed, the cakes under it, and the parson in the cupboard in the entrance. Then she op= ened the door for her husband, and said, "Thank heaven, thou art back again! There is such a storm, it looks as if the world were coming to an end." The miller saw the peasant lying on the straw, and asked, "What is that fellow doing there?" "Ah," said the wife, "the poor kna= ve came in the storm and rain, and begged for shelter, so I gave him a bit of bread and cheese, and showed him where the straw was." The man said, "I have no objection, but be quick and get me something to eat." = The woman said, "But I have nothing but bread and cheese." "I am contented with anything," replied the husband, "so far as I am concerned, bread = and cheese will do," and looked at the peasant and said, "Come and eat some more with me." The peasant did not require to be invited twice, b= ut got up and ate. After this the miller saw the skin in which the raven was, lying on the ground, and asked, "What hast thou there?" The peasa= nt answered, "I have a soothsayer inside it." "Can he foretell anything to me?" said the miller. "Why not?" answered the peasant, "but he only says four things, and the fifth he keeps to himself." The miller was curious, and said, "Let him foretell something for once." Then the peasant pinched the raven's head, so tha= t he croaked and made a noise like krr, krr. The miller said, "What did he say?" The peasant answered, "In the first place, he says that the= re is some wine hidden under the pillow." "Bless me!" cried the miller, and went there and found the wine. "Now go on," said he. = The peasant made the raven croak again, and said, "In the second place, he says that there is some roast meat in the tiled stove." "Upon my word!" cried the miller, and went thither, and found the roast meat. T= he peasant made the raven prophesy still more, and said, "Thirdly, he says that there is some salad on the bed." "That would be a fine thing!" cried the miller, and went there and found the salad. At last = the peasant pinched the raven once more till he croaked, and said, "Fourth= ly, he says that there are some cakes under the bed." "That would be a fine thing!" cried the miller, and looked there, and found the cakes.<= o:p>
And
now the two sat down to the table together, but the miller's wife was frigh=
tened
to death, and went to bed and took all the keys with her. The miller would =
have
liked much to know the fifth, but the little peasant said, "First, we =
will
quickly eat the four things, for the fifth is something bad." So they =
ate,
and after that they bargained how much the miller was to give for the fifth
prophesy, until they agreed on three hundred thalers. Then the peasant once
more pinched the raven's head till he croaked loudly. The miller asked,
"What did he say?" The peasant replied, "He says that the De=
vil
is hiding outside there in the cupboard in the entrance." The miller s=
aid,
"The Devil must go out," and opened the house-door; then the woman
was forced to give up the keys, and the peasant unlocked the cupboard. The
parson ran out as fast as he could, and the miller said, "It was true;=
I
saw the black rascal with my own eyes." The peasant, however, made off
next morning by daybreak with the three hundred thalers.
At
home the small peasant gradually launched out; he built a beautiful house, =
and
the peasants said, "The small peasant has certainly been to the place
where golden snow falls, and people carry the gold home in shovels." T=
hen
the small peasant was brought before the Mayor, and bidden to say from when=
ce
his wealth came. He answered, "I sold my cow's skin in the town, for t=
hree
hundred thalers." When the peasants heard that, they too wished to enj=
oy
this great profit, and ran home, killed all their cows, and stripped off th=
eir
skins in order to sell them in the town to the greatest advantage. The Mayo=
r,
however, said, "But my servant must go first." When she came to t=
he
merchant in the town, he did not give her more than two thalers for a skin,=
and
when the others came, he did not give them so much, and said, "What ca=
n I
do with all these skins?"
Then
the peasants were vexed that the small peasant should have thus overreached
them, wanted to take vengeance on him, and accused him of this treachery be=
fore
the Mayor. The innocent little peasant was unanimously sentenced to death, =
and
was to be rolled into the water, in a barrel pierced full of holes. He was =
led
forth, and a priest was brought who was to say a mass for his soul. The oth=
ers
were all obliged to retire to a distance, and when the peasant looked at the
priest, he recognized the man who had been with the miller's wife. He said to him, "I set you fr=
ee
from the cupboard, set me free from the barrel." At this same moment up
came, with a flock of sheep, the very shepherd who as the peasant knew had =
long
been wishing to be Mayor, so he cried with all his might, "No, I will =
not
do it; if the whole world insists on it, I will not do it!" The shephe=
rd
hearing that, came up to him, and asked, "What art thou about? What is=
it
that thou wilt not do?" The peasant said, "They want to make me
Mayor, if I will but put myself in the barrel, but I will not do it." =
The
shepherd said, "If nothing more than that is needful in order to be Ma=
yor,
I would get into the barrel at once." The peasant said, "If thou =
wilt
get in, thou wilt be Mayor." The shepherd was willing, and got in, and=
the
peasant shut the top down on him; then he took the shepherd's flock for
himself, and drove it away. The parson went to the crowd, and declared that=
the
mass had been said. Then they came and rolled the barrel towards the water.
When the barrel began to roll, the shepherd cried, "I am quite willing=
to
be Mayor." They believed no otherwise than that it was the peasant who=
was
saying this, and answered, "That is what we intend, but first thou sha=
lt
look about thee a little down below there," and they rolled the barrel
down into the water.
After
that the peasants went home, and as they were entering the village, the sma=
ll
peasant also came quietly in, driving a flock of sheep and looking quite
contented. Then the peasants were astonished, and said, "Peasant, from
whence comest thou? Hast thou come out of the water?" "Yes, truly=
,"
replied the peasant, "I sank deep, deep down, until at last I got to t=
he
bottom; I pushed the bottom out of the barrel, and crept out, and there were
pretty meadows on which a number of lambs were feeding, and from thence I
brought this flock away with me." Said the peasants, "Are there a=
ny
more there?" "Oh, yes," said he, "more than I could do =
anything
with." Then the peasants made up their minds that they too would fetch
some sheep for themselves, a flock apiece, but the Mayor said, "I come
first." So they went to the water together, and just then there were s=
ome
of the small fleecy clouds in the blue sky, which are called little lambs, =
and
they were reflected in the water, whereupon the peasants cried, "We
already see the sheep down below!" The Mayor pressed forward and said,
"I will go down first, and look about me, and if things promise well I=
'll
call you." So he jumped in; splash! went the water; he made a sound as=
if
he were calling them, and the whole crowd plunged in after him as one man. =
Then
the entire village was dead, and the small peasant, as sole heir, became a =
rich
man.
Two
kings' sons once went out in search of adventures, and fell into a wild,
disorderly way of living, so that they never came home again. The youngest,=
who
was called Simpleton, set out to seek his brothers, but when at length he f=
ound
them they mocked him for thinking that he with his simplicity could get thr=
ough
the world, when they two could not make their way, and yet were so much cle=
verer.
They all three travelled away together, and came to an ant-hill. The two el=
der
wanted to destroy it, to see the little ants creeping about in their terror,
and carrying their eggs away, but Simpleton said, "Leave the creatures=
in
peace; I will not allow you to disturb them." Then they went onwards a=
nd
came to a lake, on which a great number of ducks were swimming. The two
brothers wanted to catch a couple and roast them, but Simpleton would not
permit it, and said, "Leave the creatures in peace, I will not suffer =
you
to kill them." At length they came to a bee's nest, in which there was=
so
much honey that it ran out of the trunk of the tree where it was. The two w=
anted
to make a fire beneath the tree, and suffocate the bees in order to take aw=
ay
the honey, but Simpleton again stopped them and said, "Leave the creat=
ures
in peace, I will not allow you to burn them." At length the three brot=
hers
arrived at a castle where stone horses were standing in the stables, and no
human being was to be seen, and they went through all the halls until, quit=
e at
the end, they came to a door in which were three locks. In the middle of the
door, however, there was a little pane, through which they could see into t=
he
room. There they saw a little grey man, who was sitting at a table. They ca=
lled
him, once, twice, but he did not hear; at last they called him for the third
time, when he got up, opened the locks, and came out. He said nothing, however, but cond=
ucted them
to a handsomely-spread table, and when they had eaten and drunk, he took ea=
ch
of them to a bedroom. Next morning the little grey man came to the eldest,
beckoned to him, and conducted him to a stone table, on which were inscribed
three tasks, by the performance of which the castle could be delivered. The=
first
was that in the forest, beneath the moss, lay the princess's pearls, a thou=
sand
in number, which must be picked up, and if by sunset one single pearl was
wanting, he who had looked for them would be turned into stone. The eldest =
went
thither, and sought the whole day, but when it came to an end, he had only
found one hundred, and what was written on the table came to pass, and he w=
as
changed into stone. Next day, the second brother undertook the adventure; it
did not, however, fare much better with him than with the eldest; he did not
find more than two hundred pearls, and was changed to stone. At last the tu=
rn
came to Simpleton also, who sought in the moss. It was, however, so hard to
find the pearls, and he got on so slowly, that he seated himself on a stone,
and wept. And while he was thus sitting, the King of the ants whose life he=
had
once saved, came with five thousand ants, and before long the little creatu=
res
had got all the pearls together, and laid them in a heap. The second task,
however, was to fetch out of the lake the key of the King's daughter's
bed-chamber. When Simpleton came to the lake, the ducks which he had saved,
swam up to him, dived down, and brought the key out of the water. But the t=
hird
task was the most difficult; from amongst the three sleeping daughters of t=
he
King was the youngest and dearest to be sought out. They, however, resembled each other
exactly, and were only to be distinguished by their having eaten different
sweetmeats before they fell asleep; the eldest a bit of sugar; the second a
little syrup; and the youngest a spoonful of honey. Then the Queen of the b=
ees,
which Simpleton had protected from the fire, came and tasted the lips of all
three, and at last she remained sitting on the mouth which had eaten honey,=
and
thus the King's son recognized the right princess. Then the enchantment was=
at
an end; everything was released from sleep, and those who had been turned to
stone received once more their natural forms. Simpleton married the youngest
and sweetest princess, and after her father's death became King, and his two
brothers received the two other sisters.
There
was once on a time a King who had three sons, of whom two were clever and w=
ise,
but the third did not speak much, and was simple, and was called the Simple=
ton.
When the King had become old and weak, and was thinking of his end, he did =
not
know which of his sons should inherit the kingdom after him. Then he said to them, "Go for=
th, and
he who brings me the most beautiful carpet shall be King after my death.&qu=
ot;
And that there should be no dispute amongst them, he took them outside his
castle, blew three feathers in the air, and said, "You shall go as they
fly." One feather flew to the east, the other to the west, but the thi=
rd
flew straight up and did not fly far, but soon fell to the ground. And now =
one
brother went to the right, and the other to the left, and they mocked
Simpleton, who was forced to stay where the third feather had fallen. He sat
down and was sad, then all at once he saw that there was a trap-door close =
by
the feather. He raised it up, found some steps, and went down them, and the=
n he
came to another door, knocked at it, and heard somebody inside calling,
"Little green maiden small, Hopping hither and thither;
Hop to the door, And quickly see who is there."=
The
door opened, and he saw a great, fat toad sitting, and round about her a cr=
owd
of little toads. The fat toad asked what he wanted? He answered, "I sh=
ould
like to have the prettiest and finest carpet in the world." Then she
called a young one and said,
"Little green maiden small, Hopping hither and thither,
Hop quickly and bring me The great box here."
The
young toad brought the box, and the fat toad opened it, and gave Simpleton a
carpet out of it, so beautiful and so fine, that on the earth above, none c=
ould
have been woven like it. Then he thanked her, and ascended again. The two
others had, however, looked on their youngest brother as so stupid that they
believed he would find and bring nothing at all. "Why should we give
ourselves a great deal of trouble to search?" said they, and got some
coarse handkerchiefs from the first shepherds' wives whom they met, and car=
ried
them home to the King. At the same time Simpleton also came back, and broug=
ht
his beautiful carpet, and when the King saw it he was astonished, and said,=
"If
justice be done, the kingdom belongs to the youngest." But the two oth=
ers
let their father have no peace, and said that it was impossible that Simple=
ton,
who in everything lacked understanding, should be King, and entreated him to
make a new agreement with them. Then the father said, "He who brings me
the most beautiful ring shall inherit the kingdom," and led the three
brothers out, and blew into the air three feathers, which they were to foll=
ow.
Those of the two eldest again went east and west, and Simpleton's feather f=
lew
straight up, and fell down near the door into the earth. Then he went down
again to the fat toad, and told her that he wanted the most beautiful ring.=
She
at once ordered her great box to be brought, and gave him a ring out of it,
which sparkled with jewels, and was so beautiful that no goldsmith on earth
would have been able to make it. The two eldest laughed at Simpleton for go=
ing
to seek a golden ring. They gave themselves no trouble, but knocked the nai=
ls
out of an old carriage-ring, and took it to the King; but when Simpleton
produced his golden ring, his father again said, "The kingdom belongs =
to
him." The two eldest did not cease from tormenting the King until he m=
ade
a third condition, and declared that the one who brought the most beautiful
woman home, should have the kingdom. He again blew the three feathers into =
the
air, and they flew as before.
Then
Simpleton without more ado went down to the fat toad, and said, "I am =
to
take home the most beautiful woman!" "Oh," answered the toad=
, "the
most beautiful woman! She is not at hand at the moment, but still thou shalt
have her." She gave him a
yellow turnip which had been hollowed out, to which six mice were harnessed.
Then Simpleton said quite mournfully, "What am I to do with that?"
The toad answered, "Just put one of my little toads into it." The=
n he
seized one at random out of the circle, and put her into the yellow coach, =
but
hardly was she seated inside it than she turned into a wonderfully beautiful
maiden, and the turnip into a coach, and the six mice into horses. So he ki=
ssed
her, and drove off quickly with the horses, and took her to the King. His b=
rothers
came afterwards; they had given themselves no trouble at all to seek beauti=
ful
girls, but had brought with them the first peasant women they chanced to me=
et.
When the King saw them he said, "After my death the kingdom belongs to=
my
youngest son." But the two eldest deafened the King's ears afresh with
their clamour, "We cannot consent to Simpleton's being King," and
demanded that the one whose wife could leap through a ring which hung in the
centre of the hall should have the preference. They thought, "The peas=
ant
women can do that easily; they are strong enough, but the delicate maiden w=
ill
jump herself to death." The aged King agreed likewise to this. Then the
two peasant women jumped, and jumped through the ring, but were so stout th=
at
they fell, and their coarse arms and legs broke in two. And then the pretty=
maiden
whom Simpleton had brought with him, sprang, and sprang through as lightly =
as a
deer, and all opposition had to cease. So he received the crown, and has ru=
led
wisely for a length of time.
There
was a man who had three sons, the youngest of whom was called Dummling, and=
was
despised, mocked, and put down on every occasion.
It
happened that the eldest wanted to go into the forest to hew wood, and befo=
re
he went his mother gave him a beautiful sweet cake and a bottle of wine in
order that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst.
When
he entered the forest there met him a little grey-haired old man who bade h=
im
good-day, and said, "Do give me a piece of cake out of your pocket, and
let me have a draught of your wine; I am so hungry and thirsty." But t=
he
prudent youth answered, "If I give you my cake and wine, I shall have =
none
for myself; be off with you," and he left the little man standing and =
went
on.
But
when he began to hew down a tree, it was not long before he made a false
stroke, and the axe cut him in the arm, so that he had to go home and have =
it
bound up. And this was the little grey man's doing.
After
this the second son went into the forest, and his mother gave him, like the
eldest, a cake and a bottle of wine. The little old grey man met him likewi=
se,
and asked him for a piece of cake and a drink of wine. But the second son, =
too,
said with much reason, "What I give you will be taken away from myself=
; be
off!" and he left the little man standing and went on. His punishment,
however, was not delayed; when he had made a few strokes at the tree he str=
uck
himself in the leg, so that he had to be carried home.
Then
Dummling said, "Father, do let me go and cut wood." The father an=
swered,
"Your brothers have hurt themselves with it, leave it alone, you do not
understand anything about it." But Dummling begged so long that at las=
t he
said, "Just go then, you will get wiser by hurting yourself." His
mother gave him a cake made with water and baked in the cinders, and with i=
t a
bottle of sour beer.
When
he came to the forest the little old grey man met him likewise, and greeting
him, said, "Give me a piece of your cake and a drink out of your bottl=
e; I
am so hungry and thirsty." Dummling answered, "I have only cinder=
-cake
and sour beer; if that pleases you, we will sit down and eat." So they=
sat
down, and when Dummling pulled out his cinder-cake, it was a fine sweet cak=
e,
and the sour beer had become good wine. So they ate and drank, and after th=
at
the little man said, "Since you have a good heart, and are willing to
divide what you have, I will give you good luck. There stands an old tree, =
cut
it down, and you will find something at the roots." Then the little man
took leave of him.
Dummling
went and cut down the tree, and when it fell there was a goose sitting in t=
he
roots with feathers of pure gold. He lifted her up, and taking her with him,
went to an inn where he thought he would stay the night. Now the host had t=
hree
daughters, who saw the goose and were curious to know what such a wonderful
bird might be, and would have liked to have one of its golden feathers.
The
eldest thought, "I shall soon find an opportunity of pulling out a fea=
ther,"
and as soon as Dummling had gone out she seized the goose by the wing, but =
her
finger and hand remained sticking fast to it.
The
second came soon afterwards, thinking only of how she might get a feather f=
or
herself, but she had scarcely touched her sister than she was held fast.
At
last the third also came with the like intent, and the others screamed out,
"Keep away; for goodness' sake keep away!" But she did not unders=
tand
why she was to keep away. "The others are there," she thought,
"I may as well be there too," and ran to them; but as soon as she=
had
touched her sister, she remained sticking fast to her. So they had to spend=
the
night with the goose.
The
next morning Dummling took the goose under his arm and set out, without
troubling himself about the three girls who were hanging on to it. They were
obliged to run after him continually, now left, now right, just as he was
inclined to go.
In the middle of the fields the parson met them, and when he saw the procession he said, "For shame, you good-for-nothing girls, why are you running acro= ss the fields after this young man? is that seemly?" At the same time he seized the youngest by the hand in order to pull her away, but as soon as he touched her he likewise stuck fast, and was himself obliged to run behind.<= o:p>
Before
long the sexton came by and saw his master, the parson, running behind three
girls. He was astonished at this and called out, "Hi, your reverence,
whither away so quickly? do not forget that we have a christening to-day!&q=
uot;
and running after him he took him by the sleeve, but was also held fast to =
it.
Whilst
the five were trotting thus one behind the other, two labourers came with t=
heir
hoes from the fields; the parson called out to them and begged that they wo=
uld
set him and the sexton free. But they had scarcely touched the sexton when =
they
were held fast, and now there were seven of them running behind Dummling and
the goose.
Soon
afterwards he came to a city, where a king ruled who had a daughter who was=
so
serious that no one could make her laugh. So he had put forth a decree that
whosoever should be able to make her laugh should marry her. When Dummling
heard this, he went with his goose and all her train before the King's
daughter, and as soon as she saw the seven people running on and on, one be=
hind
the other, she began to laugh quite loudly, and as if she would never leave
off. Thereupon Dummling asked to have her for his wife, and the wedding was
celebrated. After the King's death, Dummling inherited the kingdom and live=
d a
long time contentedly with his wife.
There
was once on a time a King who had a wife with golden hair, and she was so
beautiful that her equal was not to be found on earth. It came to pass that=
she
lay ill, and as she felt that she must soon die, she called the King and sa=
id,
"If thou wishest to marry again after my death, take no one who is not
quite as beautiful as I am, and who has not just such golden hair as I have:
this thou must promise me." And after the King had promised her this s=
he
closed her eyes and died.
For a
long time the King could not be comforted, and had no thought of taking ano=
ther
wife. At length his councillors said, "There is no help for it, the Ki=
ng
must marry again, that we may have a Queen." And now messengers were s=
ent
about far and wide, to seek a bride who equalled the late Queen in beauty. =
In
the whole world, however, none was to be found, and even if one had been fo=
und,
still there would have been no one who had such golden hair. So the messeng=
ers
came home as they went.
Now
the King had a daughter, who was just as beautiful as her dead mother, and =
had
the same golden hair. When she was grown up the King looked at her one day,=
and
saw that in every respect she was like his late wife, and suddenly felt a
violent love for her. Then he spake to his councillors, "I will marry =
my
daughter, for she is the counterpart of my late wife, otherwise I can find =
no
bride who resembles her." When the councillors heard that, they were
shocked, and said, "God has forbidden a father to marry his daughter, =
no
good can come from such a crime, and the kingdom will be involved in the
ruin."
The
daughter was still more shocked when she became aware of her father's resol=
ution,
but hoped to turn him from his design. Then she said to him, "Before I
fulfil your wish, I must have three dresses, one as golden as the sun, one =
as
silvery as the moon, and one as bright as the stars; besides this, I wish f=
or a
mantle of a thousand different kinds of fur and hair joined together, and o=
ne
of every kind of animal in your kingdom must give a piece of his skin for
it." But she thought, "To get that will be quite impossible, and =
thus
I shall divert my father from his wicked intentions." The King, howeve=
r,
did not give it up, and the cleverest maidens in his kingdom had to weave t=
he
three dresses, one as golden as the sun, one as silvery as the moon, and on=
e as
bright as the stars, and his huntsmen had to catch one of every kind of ani=
mal in
the whole of his kingdom, and take from it a piece of its skin, and out of
these was made a mantle of a thousand different kinds of fur. At length, wh=
en
all was ready, the King caused the mantle to be brought, spread it out befo=
re
her, and said, "The wedding shall be to-morrow."
When,
therefore, the King's daughter saw that there was no longer any hope of tur=
ning
her father's heart, she resolved to run away from him. In the night whilst
every one was asleep, she got up, and took three different things from her
treasures, a golden ring, a golden spinning-wheel, and a golden reel. The t=
hree
dresses of the sun, moon, and stars she put into a nutshell, put on her man=
tle
of all kinds of fur, and blackened her face and hands with soot. Then she
commended herself to God, and went away, and walked the whole night until s=
he
reached a great forest. And as she was tired, she got into a hollow tree, a=
nd
fell asleep.
The sun rose, and she slept on, and she was still sleeping when it was full day. Then it so happened that= the King to whom this forest belonged, was hunting in it. When his dogs came to= the tree, they sniffed, and ran barking round about it. The King said to the huntsmen, "Just see what kind of wild beast has hidden itself in there." The huntsmen obeyed his order, and when they came back they said, "A wondr= ous beast is lying in the hollow tree; we have never before seen one like it. I= ts skin is fur of a thousand different kinds, but it is lying asleep." Sa= id the King, "See if you can catch it alive, and then fasten it to the carriage, and we will take it with us." When the huntsmen laid hold of= the maiden, she awoke full of terror, and cried to them, "I am a poor chil= d, deserted by father and mother; have pity on me, and take me with you." Then said they, "Allerleirauh, thou wilt be useful in the kitchen, come with us, and thou canst sweep up the ashes." So they put her in the carriage, and took her home to the royal palace. There they pointed out to = her a closet under the stairs, where no daylight entered, and said, "Hairy animal, there canst thou live and sleep." Then she was sent into the kitchen, and there she carried wood and water, swept the hearth, plucked the fowls, picked the vegetables, raked the ashes, and did all the dirty work.<= o:p>
Allerleirauh
lived there for a long time in great wretchedness. Alas, fair princess, wha=
t is
to become of thee now! It happened, however, that one day a feast was held =
in
the palace, and she said to the cook, "May I go up-stairs for a while,=
and
look on? I will place myself outside the door." The cook answered,
"Yes, go, but you must be back here in half-an-hour to sweep the
hearth." Then she took her oil-lamp, went into her den, put off her
fur-dress, and washed the soot off her face and hands, so that her full bea=
uty
once more came to light. And she opened the nut, and took out her dress whi=
ch
shone like the sun, and when she had done that she went up to the festival,=
and
every one made way for her, for no one knew her, and thought no otherwise t=
han that
she was a king's daughter. Th=
e King
came to meet her, gave his hand to her, and danced with her, and thought in=
his
heart, "My eyes have never yet seen any one so beautiful!" When t=
he
dance was over she curtsied, and when the King looked round again she had
vanished, and none knew whither. The guards who stood outside the palace we=
re
called and questioned, but no one had seen her.
She
had, however, run into her little den, had quickly taken off her dress, made
her face and hands black again, put on the fur-mantle, and again was
Allerleirauh. And now when she went into the kitchen, and was about to get =
to
her work and sweep up the ashes, the cook said, "Leave that alone till
morning, and make me the soup for the King; I, too, will go upstairs awhile,
and take a look; but let no hairs fall in, or in future thou shalt have not=
hing
to eat." So the cook went away, and Allerleirauh made the soup for the
king, and made bread soup and the best she could, and when it was ready she
fetched her golden ring from her little den, and put it in the bowl in which
the soup was served. When the dancing was over, the King had his soup broug=
ht
and ate it, and he liked it so much that it seemed to him he had never tast=
ed
better. But when he came to the bottom of the bowl, he saw a golden ring ly=
ing,
and could not conceive how it could have got there. Then he ordered the coo=
k to
appear before him. The cook was terrified when he heard the order, and said=
to
Allerleirauh, "Thou hast certainly let a hair fall into the soup, and =
if
thou hast, thou shalt be beaten for it." When he came before the King the l=
atter
asked who had made the soup? The cook replied, "I made it." But t=
he
King said, "That is not true, for it was much better than usual, and
cooked differently." He answered, "I must acknowledge that I did =
not
make it, it was made by the rough animal." The King said, "Go and=
bid
it come up here."
When
Allerleirauh came, the King said, "Who art thou?" "I am a po=
or girl
who no longer has any father or mother." He asked further, "Of wh=
at use
art thou in my palace?" She answered, "I am good for nothing but =
to have
boots thrown at my head." He continued, "Where didst thou get the=
ring
which was in the soup?" =
She
answered, "I know nothing about the ring." So the King could learn
nothing, and had to send her away again.
After
a while, there was another festival, and then, as before, Allerleirauh begg=
ed
the cook for leave to go and look on. He answered, "Yes, but come back
again in half-an-hour, and make the King the bread soup which he so much
likes." Then she ran int=
o her
den, washed herself quickly, and took out of the nut the dress which was as
silvery as the moon, and put it on. Then she went up and was like a princes=
s,
and the King stepped forward to meet her, and rejoiced to see her once more=
, and
as the dance was just beginning they danced it together. But when it was ended, she again
disappeared so quickly that the King could not observe where she went. She,
however, sprang into her den, and once more made herself a hairy animal, and
went into the kitchen to prepare the bread soup. When the cook had gone up-stairs, =
she
fetched the little golden spinning-wheel, and put it in the bowl so that the
soup covered it. Then it was taken to the King, who ate it, and liked it as
much as before, and had the cook brought, who this time likewise was forced=
to confess
that Allerleirauh had prepared the soup.&n=
bsp;
Allerleirauh again came before the King, but she answered that she w=
as
good for nothing else but to have boots thrown at her head, and that she kn=
ew
nothing at all about the little golden spinning-wheel.
When,
for the third time, the King held a festival, all happened just as it had d=
one
before. The cook said, "Faith rough-skin, thou art a witch, and always
puttest something in the soup which makes it so good that the King likes it
better than that which I cook," but as she begged so hard, he let her =
go
up at the appointed time. And now she put on the dress which shone like the
stars, and thus entered the hall. Again the King danced with the beautiful
maiden, and thought that she never yet had been so beautiful. And whilst she
was dancing, he contrived, without her noticing it, to slip a golden ring on
her finger, and he had given orders that the dance should last a very long
time. When it was ended, he wanted to hold her fast by her hands, but she t=
ore
herself loose, and sprang away so quickly through the crowd that she vanish=
ed
from his sight. She ran as fast as she could into her den beneath the stair=
s, but
as she had been too long, and had stayed more than half-an-hour she could n=
ot
take off her pretty dress, but only threw over it her fur-mantle, and in her
haste she did not make herself quite black, but one finger remained white. =
Then
Allerleirauh ran into the kitchen, and cooked the bread soup for the King, =
and
as the cook was away, put her golden reel into it. When the King found the =
reel
at the bottom of it, he caused Allerleirauh to be summoned, and then he esp=
ied
the white finger, and saw the ring which he had put on it during the dance.
Then he grasped her by the hand, and held her fast, and when she wanted to
release herself and run away, her mantle of fur opened a little, and the
star-dress shone forth. The King clutched the mantle and tore it off. Then =
her
golden hair shone forth, and she stood there in full splendour, and could no
longer hide herself. And when she had washed the soot and ashes from her fa=
ce,
she was more beautiful than anyone who had ever been seen on earth. But the
King said, "Thou art my dear bride, and we will never more part from e=
ach
other." Thereupon the marriage was solemnized, and they lived happily
until their death.
There
was once a woman and her daughter who lived in a pretty garden with cabbage=
s;
and a little hare came into it, and during the winter time ate all the
cabbages. Then says the mother to the daughter, "Go into the garden, a=
nd
chase the hare away." The girl says to the little hare, "Sh-sh, h=
are,
you are still eating up all our cabbages." Says the hare, "Come,
maiden, and seat yourself on my little hare's tail, and come with me into my
little hare's hut." The girl will not do it. Next day the hare comes a=
gain
and eats the cabbages, then says the mother to the daughter, "Go into =
the
garden, and drive the hare away." The girl says to the hare, "Sh-=
sh,
little hare, you are still eating all the cabbages." The little hare s=
ays,
"Maiden, seat thyself on my little hare's tail, and come with me into =
my
little hare's hut." The maiden refuses. The third day the hare comes
again, and eats the cabbages. On this the mother says to the daughter, &quo=
t;Go
into the garden, and hunt the hare away." Says the maiden, "Sh-sh,
little hare, you are still eating all our cabbages." Says the little h=
are,
"Come, maiden, seat thyself on my little hare's tail, and come with me
into my little hare's hut." The girl seats herself on the little hare's
tail, and then the hare takes her far away to his little hut, and says,
"Now cook green cabbage and millet-seed, and I will invite the
wedding-guests." Then all the wedding-guests assembled. (Who were the
wedding-guests?) That I can tell you as another told it to me. They were all
hares, and the crow was there as parson to marry the bride and bridegroom, =
and
the fox as clerk, and the altar was under the rainbow.
The
girl, however, was sad, for she was all alone. The little hare comes and sa=
ys,
"Open the doors, open the doors, the wedding-guests are merry." T=
he
bride says nothing, but weeps. The little hare goes away. The little hare c=
omes
back and says, "Take off the lid, take off the lid, the wedding-guests=
are
hungry." The bride again says nothing, and weeps. The little hare goes
away. The little hare comes back and says, "Take off the lid, take off=
the
lid, the wedding-guests are waiting." Then the bride says nothing, and=
the
hare goes away, but she dresses a straw-doll in her clothes, and gives her a
spoon to stir with, and sets her by the pan with the millet-seed, and goes =
back
to her mother. The little hare comes once more and says, "Take off the
lid, take off the lid," and gets up, and strikes the doll on the head =
so
that her cap falls off.
Then
the little hare sees that it is not his bride, and goes away and is sorrowf=
ul.
There
was once a King's son who was betrothed to a maiden whom he loved very much.
And when he was sitting beside her and very happy, news came that his father
lay sick unto death, and desired to see him once again before his end. Then he said to his beloved, "=
;I
must now go and leave thee, I give thee a ring as a remembrance of me. When=
I
am King, I will return and fetch thee." So he rode away, and when he
reached his father, the latter was dangerously ill, and near his death. He =
said
to him, "Dear son, I wished to see thee once again before my end, prom=
ise
me to marry as I wish," and he named a certain King's daughter who was=
to be
his wife. The son was in such trouble that he did not think what he was doi=
ng,
and said, "Yes, dear father, your will shall be done," and thereu=
pon
the King shut his eyes, and died.
When
therefore the son had been proclaimed King, and the time of mourning was ov=
er,
he was forced to keep the promise which he had given his father, and caused=
the
King's daughter to be asked in marriage, and she was promised to him. His f=
irst
betrothed heard of this, and fretted so much about his faithlessness that s=
he
nearly died. Then her father said to her, "Dearest child, why art thou=
so
sad? Thou shalt have whatsoever thou wilt." She thought for a moment a=
nd
said, "Dear father, I wish for eleven girls exactly like myself in fac=
e,
figure, and size." The father said, "If it be possible, thy desire
shall be fulfilled," and he caused a search to be made in his whole ki=
ngdom,
until eleven young maidens were found who exactly resembled his daughter in
face, figure, and size.
When
they came to the King's daughter, she had twelve suits of huntsmen's clothes
made, all alike, and the eleven maidens had to put on the huntsmen's clothe=
s,
and she herself put on the twelfth suit. Thereupon she took leave of her
father, and rode away with them, and rode to the court of her former betrot=
hed,
whom she loved so dearly. Then she inquired if he required any huntsmen, an=
d if
he would take the whole of them into his service. The King looked at her and
did not know her, but as they were such handsome fellows, he said,
"Yes," and that he would willingly take them, and now they were t=
he
King's twelve huntsmen.
The
King, however, had a lion which was a wondrous animal, for he knew all conc=
ealed
and secret things. It came to pass that one evening he said to the King,
"Thou thinkest thou hast twelve huntsmen?" "Yes," said =
the
King, "they are twelve huntsmen." The lion continued, "Thou =
art
mistaken, they are twelve girls."&nbs=
p;
The King said, "That cannot be true! How wilt thou prove that to
me?" "Oh, just let some peas be strewn in thy ante-chamber,"=
answered
the lion, "and then thou wilt soon see it. Men have a firm step, and w=
hen
they walk over the peas none of them stir, but girls trip and skip, and drag
their feet, and the peas roll about."=
The King was well pleased with the counsel, and caused the peas to be
strewn.
There
was, however, a servant of the King's who favored the huntsmen, and when he
heard that they were going to be put to this test he went to them and repea=
ted
everything, and said, "The lion wants to make the King believe that you
are girls." Then the King's daughter thanked him, and said to her maid=
ens,
"Put on some strength, and step firmly on the peas." So next morn=
ing
when the King had the twelve huntsmen called before him, and they came into=
the
ante-chamber where the peas were lying, they stepped so firmly on them, and=
had
such a strong, sure walk, that not one of the peas either rolled or stirred.
Then they went away again, and the King said to the lion, "Thou hast l=
ied
to me, they walk just like men." The lion said, "They have got to
know that they were going to be put to the test, and have assumed some
strength. Just let twelve spinning-wheels be brought into the ante-chamber =
some
day, and they will go to them and be pleased with them, and that is what no=
man
would do." The King liked the advice, and had the spinning-wheels plac=
ed in
the ante-chamber.
But
the servant, who was well disposed to the huntsmen, went to them, and discl=
osed
the project. Then when they were alone the King's daughter said to her elev=
en
girls, "Put some constraint on yourselves, and do not look round at the
spinning-wheels." And next morning when the King had his twelve huntsm=
en
summoned, they went through the ante-chamber, and never once looked at the
spinning wheels. Then the King again said to the lion, "Thou hast dece=
ived
me, they are men, for they have not looked at the spinning-wheels." The
lion replied, "They have learnt that they were going to be put to the
test, and have restrained themselves." The King, however, would no lon=
ger
believe the lion.
The
twelve huntsmen always followed the King to the chase, and his liking for t=
hem
continually increased. Now it came to pass that once when they were out
hunting, news came that the King's betrothed was approaching. When the true
bride heard that, it hurt her so much that her heart was almost broken, and=
she
fell fainting to the ground. The King thought something had happened to his
dear huntsman, ran up to him, wanted to help him, and drew his glove off. T=
hen
he saw the ring which he had given to his first bride, and when he looked in
her face he recognized her. Then his heart was so touched that he kissed he=
r, and
when she opened her eyes he said, "Thou art mine, and I am thine, and =
no
one in the world can alter that." He sent a messenger to the other bri=
de,
and entreated her to return to her own kingdom, for he had a wife already, =
and
a man who had just found an old dish did not require a new one. Thereupon t=
he
wedding was celebrated, and the lion was again taken into favour, because,
after all, he had told the truth.
Hans
wished to put his son to learn a trade, so he went into the church and pray=
ed
to our Lord God to know which would be most advantageous for him. Then the clerk got behind the alta=
r, and
said, "Thieving, thieving." On this Hans goes back to his son, and
tells him he is to learn thieving, and that the Lord God had said so. So he
goes with his son to seek a man who is acquainted with thieving. They walk a
long time and come into a great forest, where stands a little house with an=
old
woman in it. Hans says, "Do you know of a man who is acquainted with t=
hieving?"
"You can learn that here quite well," says the woman, "my so=
n is
a master of it." So he speaks with the son, and asks if he knows thiev=
ing
really well? The master-thief says, "I will teach him well. Come back =
when
a year is over, and then if you recognize your son, I will take no payment =
at
all for teaching him; but if you don't know him, you must give me two hundr=
ed
thalers."
The
father goes home again, and the son learns witchcraft and thieving, thoroug=
hly.
When the year is out, the father is full of anxiety to know how he is to
contrive to recognize his son. As he is thus going about in his trouble, he
meets a little dwarf, who says, "Man, what ails you, that you are alwa=
ys
in such trouble?"
"Oh,"
says Hans, "a year ago I placed my son with a master-thief who told me=
I
was to come back when the year was out, and that if I then did not know my =
son
when I saw him, I was to pay two hundred thalers; but if I did know him I w=
as
to pay nothing, and now I am afraid of not knowing him and can't tell where=
I
am to get the money." Then the dwarf tells him to take a small basket =
of
bread with him, and to stand beneath the chimney. "There on the cross-=
beam
is a basket, out of which a little bird is peeping, and that is your son.&q=
uot;
Hans
goes thither, and throws a little basket full of black bread in front of the
basket with the bird in it, and the little bird comes out, and looks up.
"Hollo, my son, art thou here?" says the father, and the son is
delighted to see his father, but the master-thief says, "The devil must
have prompted you, or how could you have known your son?" "Father=
, let
us go," said the youth.
Then
the father and son set out homeward. On the way a carriage comes driving by.
Hereupon the son says to his father, "I will change myself into a larg=
e greyhound,
and then you can earn a great deal of money by me." Then the gentleman
calls from the carriage, "My man, will you sell your dog?"
"Yes," says the father. "How much do you want for it?"
"Thirty thalers." "Eh, man, that is a great deal, but as it =
is such
a very fine dog I will have it." The gentleman takes it into his carri=
age,
but when they have driven a little farther the dog springs out of the carri=
age
through the window, and goes back to his father, and is no longer a greyhou=
nd.
They
go home together. Next day there is a fair in the neighboring town, so the
youth says to his father, "I will now change myself into a beautiful
horse, and you can sell me; but when you have sold me, you must take off my
bridle, or I cannot become a man again." Then the father goes with the
horse to the fair, and the master-thief comes and buys the horse for a hund=
red
thalers, but the father forgets, and does not take off the bridle. So the m=
an
goes home with the horse, and puts it in the stable. When the maid crosses =
the
threshold, the horse says, "Take off my bridle, take off my bridle.&qu=
ot;
Then the maid stands still, and says, "What, canst thou speak?" So
she goes and takes the bridle off, and the horse becomes a sparrow, and fli=
es
out at the door, and the wizard becomes a sparrow also, and flies after him.
Then they come together and cast lots, but the master loses, and betakes
himself to the water and is a fish. Then the youth also becomes a fish, and
they cast lots again, and the master loses. So the master changes himself i=
nto a
cock, and the youth becomes a fox, and bites the master's head off, and he =
died
and has remained dead to this day.
There
was once an old castle in the midst of a large and thick forest, and in it =
an
old woman who was a witch dwelt all alone. In the day-time she changed hers=
elf
into a cat or a screech-owl, but in the evening she took her proper shape a=
gain
as a human being. She could lure wild beasts and birds to her, and then she
killed and boiled and roasted them. If any one came within one hundred pace=
s of
the castle he was obliged to stand still, and could not stir from the place
until she bade him be free. But whenever an innocent maiden came within this
circle, she changed her into a bird, and shut her up in a wicker-work cage,=
and
carried the cage into a room in the castle. She had about seven thousand ca=
ges
of rare birds in the castle.
Now,
there was once a maiden who was called Jorinda, who was fairer than all oth=
er
girls. She and a handsome youth named Joringel had promised to marry each
other. They were still in the days of betrothal, and their greatest happine=
ss
was being together. One day in order that they might be able to talk togeth=
er
in quiet they went for a walk in the forest. "Take care," said Jo=
ringel,
"that you do not go too near the castle."
It was
a beautiful evening; the sun shone brightly between the trunks of the trees
into the dark green of the forest, and the turtle-doves sang mournfully upon
the young boughs of the birch-trees.
Jorinda
wept now and then: she sat down in the sunshine and was sorrowful. Joringel=
was
sorrowful too; they were as sad as if they were about to die. Then they loo=
ked
around them, and were quite at a loss, for they did not know by which way t=
hey
should go home. The sun was still half above the mountain and half set.
Joringel looked through the bushes, and saw the old walls of the castle close at han= d. He was horror-stricken and filled with deadly fear. Jorinda was singing---<= o:p>
"My little bird, with the neck=
lace
red, Sings sorrow, sorrow, so=
rrow, He sings that the dove must soon be=
dead,
Sings sorrow, sor---jug, jug,
jug."
Joringel
looked for Jorinda. She was changed into a nightingale, and sang, "jug,
jug, jug." A screech-owl with glowing eyes flew three times round about
her, and three times cried, "to-whoo, to-whoo, to-whoo!"
Joringel
could not move: he stood there like a stone, and could neither weep nor spe=
ak,
nor move hand or foot.
The
sun had now set. The owl flew into the thicket, and directly afterwards the=
re
came out of it a crooked old woman, yellow and lean, with large red eyes an=
d a
hooked nose, the point of which reached to her chin. She muttered to hersel=
f,
caught the nightingale, and took it away in her hand.
Joringel
could neither speak nor move from the spot; the nightingale was gone. At last the woman came back, and s=
aid in
a hollow voice, "Greet thee, Zachiel.=
If the moon shines on the cage, Zachiel, let him loose at once."
Then Joringel was freed. He fell on his knees before the woman and begged t=
hat
she would give him back his Jorinda, but she said that he should never have=
her
again, and went away. He called, he wept, he lamented, but all in vain,
"Ah, what is to become of me?"
Joringel
went away, and at last came to a strange village; there he kept sheep for a
long time. He often walked round and round the castle, but not too near to
it. At last he dreamt one nig=
ht
that he found a blood-red flower, in the middle of which was a beautiful la=
rge
pearl; that he picked the flower and went with it to the castle, and that e=
verything
he touched with the flower was freed from enchantment; he also dreamt that =
by
means of it he recovered his Jorinda.
In the
morning, when he awoke, he began to seek over hill and dale if he could find
such a flower. He sought until the ninth day, and then, early in the mornin=
g,
he found the blood-red flower. In the middle of it there was a large dew-dr=
op,
as big as the finest pearl.
Day
and night he journeyed with this flower to the castle. When he was within a
hundred paces of it he was not held fast, but walked on to the door. Joring=
el
was full of joy; he touched the door with the flower, and it sprang open. He
walked in through the courtyard, and listened for the sound of the birds. At
last he heard it. He went on =
and
found the room from whence it came, and there the witch was feeding the bir=
ds
in the seven thousand cages.
When
she saw Joringel she was angry, very angry, and scolded and spat poison and
gall at him, but she could not come within two paces of him. He did not take
any notice of her, but went and looked at the cages with the birds; but the=
re
were many hundred nightingales, how was he to find his Jorinda again?
Just
then he saw the old woman quietly take away a cage with a bird in it, and go
towards the door.
Swiftly
he sprang towards her, touched the cage with the flower, and also the old
woman. She could now no longer bewitch any one; and Jorinda was standing th=
ere,
clasping him round the neck, and she was as beautiful as ever!
A
father once called his three sons before him, and he gave to the first a co=
ck,
to the second a scythe, and to the third a cat. "I am already aged,&qu=
ot; said
he, "my death is nigh, and I have wished to take thought for you befor=
e my
end; money I have not, and what I now give you seems of little worth, but a=
ll
depends on your making a sensible use of it. Only seek out a country where =
such
things are still unknown, and your fortune is made."
After
the father's death the eldest went away with his cock, but wherever he came=
the
cock was already known; in the towns he saw him from a long distance, sitti=
ng
upon the steeples and turning round with the wind, and in the villages he h=
eard
more than one crowing; no one would show any wonder at the creature, so tha=
t it
did not look as if he would make his fortune by it.
At
last, however, it happened that he came to an island where the people knew
nothing about cocks, and did not even understand how to divide their time. =
They
certainly knew when it was morning or evening, but at night, if they did not
sleep through it, not one of them knew how to find out the time.
"Look!"
said he, "what a proud creature! it has a ruby-red crown upon its head,
and wears spurs like a knight; it calls you three times during the night, at
fixed hours, and when it calls for the last time, the sun soon rises. But i=
f it
crows by broad daylight, then take notice, for there will certainly be a ch=
ange
of weather."
The
people were well pleased; for a whole night they did not sleep, and listened
with great delight as the cock at two, four, and six o'clock, loudly and
clearly proclaimed the time. They asked if the creature were for sale, and =
how
much he wanted for it? "About as much gold as an ass can carry,"
answered he. "A ridiculously small price for such a precious
creature!" they cried unanimously, and willingly gave him what he had
asked.
When
he came home with his wealth his brothers were astonished, and the second s=
aid,
"Well, I will go forth and see whether I cannot get rid of my scythe as
profitably." But it did not look as if he would, for labourers met him
everywhere, and they had scythes upon their shoulders as well as he.
At
last, however, he chanced upon an island where the people knew nothing of
scythes. When the corn was ripe there, they took cannon out to the fields a=
nd
shot it down. Now this was rather an uncertain affair; many shot right over=
it,
others hit the ears instead of the stems, and shot them away, whereby much =
was
lost, and besides all this, it made a terrible noise. So the man set to work
and mowed it down so quietly and quickly that the people opened their mouths
with astonishment. They agreed to give him what he wanted for the scythe, a=
nd
he received a horse laden with as much gold as it could carry.
And
now the third brother wanted to take his cat to the right man. He fared just
like the others; so long as he stayed on the mainland there was nothing to =
be
done. Every place had cats, and there were so many of them that new-born
kittens were generally drowned in the ponds.
At
last he sailed over to an island, and it luckily happened that no cats had =
ever
yet been seen there, and that the mice had got the upper hand so much that =
they
danced upon the tables and benches whether the master were at home or not.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The people complained bitterly of =
the
plague; the King himself in his palace did not know how to secure himself
against them; mice squeaked in every corner, and gnawed whatever they could=
lay
hold of with their teeth. But now the cat began her chase, and soon cleared=
a
couple of rooms, and the people begged the King to buy the wonderful beast =
for
the country. The King willingly gave what was asked, which was a mule laden
with gold, and the third brother came home with the greatest treasure of al=
l.
The
cat made herself merry with the mice in the royal palace, and killed so many
that they could not be counted. At last she grew warm with the work and
thirsty, so she stood still, lifted up her head and cried, "Mew.
Mew!" When they heard this strange cry, the King and all his people we=
re
frightened, and in their terror ran all at once out of the palace. Then the
King took counsel what was best to be done; at last it was determined to se=
nd a
herald to the cat, and demand that she should leave the palace, or if not, =
she was
to expect that force would be used against her. The councillors said,
"Rather will we let ourselves be plagued with the mice, for to that
misfortune we are accustomed, than give up our lives to such a monster as
this." A noble youth, therefore, was sent to ask the cat "whether=
she
would peaceably quit the castle?" But the cat, whose thirst had become
still greater, merely answered, "Mew! Mew!" The youth understood =
her
to say, "Most certainly not! most certainly not!" and took this
answer to the King. "Then," said the councillors, "she shall
yield to force." Cannon were brought out, and the palace was soon in
flames. When the fire reached the room where the cat was sitting, she sprang
safely out of the window; but the besiegers did not leave off until the who=
le
palace was shot down to the ground.
There
was once a man who understood all kinds of arts; he served in war, and beha=
ved
well and bravely, but when the war was over he received his dismissal, and
three farthings for his expenses on the way. "Stop," said he, &qu=
ot;I
shall not be content with this. If I can only meet with the right people, t=
he
King will yet have to give me all the treasure of the country." Then f=
ull
of anger he went into the forest, and saw a man standing therein who had
plucked up six trees as if they were blades of corn. He said to him, "=
Wilt
thou be my servant and go with me?" "Yes," he answered,
"but, first, I will take this little bundle of sticks home to my
mother," and he took one of the trees, and wrapped it round the five
others, lifted the bundle on his back, and carried it away. Then he returned
and went with his master, who said, "We two ought to be able to get
through the world very well," and when they had walked on for a short
while they found a huntsman who was kneeling, had shouldered his gun, and w=
as
about to fire. The master said to him, "Huntsman, what art thou going =
to
shoot?" He answered, "Two miles from here a fly is sitting on the
branch of an oak-tree, and I want to shoot its left eye out." "Oh,
come with me," said the man, "if we three are together, we certai=
nly
ought to be able to get on in the world!" The huntsman was ready, and =
went
with him, and they came to seven windmills whose sails were turning round w=
ith
great speed, and yet no wind was blowing either on the right or the left, a=
nd
no leaf was stirring. Then said the man, "I know not what is driving t=
he
windmills, not a breath of air is stirring," and he went onwards with =
his
servants, and when they had walked two miles they saw a man sitting on a tr=
ee
who was shutting one nostril, and blowing out of the other. "Good
gracious! what are you doing =
up
there?" He answered, "Two miles from here are seven windmills; lo=
ok,
I am blowing them till they turn round." "Oh, come with me,"=
said
the man. "If we four are together, we shall carry the whole world befo=
re
us!" Then the blower cam=
e down
and went with him, and after a while they saw a man who was standing on one=
leg
and had taken off the other, and laid it beside him. Then the master said,
"You have arranged things very comfortably to have a rest." "=
;I
am a runner," he replied, "and to stop myself running far too fas=
t, I
have taken off one of my legs, for if I run with both, I go quicker than any
bird can fly." "Oh, go with me. If we five are together, we shall
carry the whole world before us." So he went with them, and it was not
long before they met a man who wore a cap, but had put it quite on one ear.
Then the master said to him, "Gracefully, gracefully, don't stick your=
cap
on one ear, you look just like a tom-fool!" "I must not wear it
otherwise," said he, "for if I set my hat straight, a terrible fr=
ost
comes on, and all the birds in the air are frozen, and drop dead on the
ground." "Oh, come with me," said the master. "If we six
are together, we can carry the whole world before us."
Now
the six came to a town where the King had proclaimed that whosoever ran a r=
ace
with his daughter and won the victory, should be her husband, but whosoever
lost it, must lose his head. Then the man presented himself and said, "=
;I
will, however, let my servant run for me." The King replied, "Then
his life also must be staked, so that his head and thine are both set on the
victory." When that was settled and made secure, the man buckled the o=
ther
leg on the runner, and said to him, "Now be nimble, and help us to
win." It was fixed that the one who was first to bring some water from=
a
far distant well was to be the victor. The runner received a pitcher, and t=
he
King's daughter one too, and they began to run at the same time, but in an
instant, when the King's daughter had got a very little way, the people who
were looking on could see no more of the runner, and it was just as if the =
wind
had whistled by. In a short time he reached the well, filled his pitcher wi=
th
water, and turned back. Half-way home, however, he was overcome with fatigu=
e, and
set his pitcher down, lay down himself, and fell asleep. He had, however, m=
ade
a pillow of a horse's skull which was lying on the ground, in order that he
might lie uncomfortably, and soon wake up again. In the meantime the King's
daughter, who could also run very well quite as well as any ordinary mortal=
can
had reached the well, and was hurrying back with her pitcher full of water,=
and
when she saw the runner lying there asleep, she was glad and said, "My
enemy is delivered over into my hands," emptied his pitcher, and ran o=
n.
And now all would have been lost if by good luck the huntsman had not been
standing at the top of the castle, and had not seen everything with his sha=
rp
eyes. Then said he, "The King's daughter shall still not prevail again=
st
us;" and he loaded his gun, and shot so cleverly, that he shot the hor=
se's
skull away from under the runner's head without hurting him. Then the runner
awoke, leapt up, and saw that his pitcher was empty, and that the King's
daughter was already far in advance. He did not lose heart, however, but ra=
n back
to the well with his pitcher, again drew some water, and was at home again,=
ten
minutes before the King's daughter. "Behold!" said he, "I ha=
ve
not bestirred myself till now, it did not deserve to be called running
before."
But it
pained the King, and still more his daughter, that she should be carried of=
f by
a common disbanded soldier like that; so they took counsel with each other =
how
to get rid of him and his companions. Then said the King to her, "I ha=
ve
thought of a way; don't be afraid, they shall not come back again." An=
d he
said to them, "You shall now make merry together, and eat and drink,&q=
uot;
and he conducted them to a room which had a floor of iron, and the doors al=
so
were of iron, and the windows were guarded with iron bars. There was a tabl=
e in
the room covered with delicious food, and the King said to them, "Go i=
n,
and enjoy yourselves." And when they were inside, he ordered the doors=
to
be shut and bolted. Then he sent for the cook, and commanded him to make a =
fire
under the room until the iron became red-hot. This the cook did, and the six
who were sitting at table began to feel quite warm, and they thought the he=
at
was caused by the food; but as it became still greater, and they wanted to =
get
out, and found that the doors and windows were bolted, they became aware th=
at
the King must have an evil intention, and wanted to suffocate them. "He
shall not succeed, however," said the one with the cap. "I will c=
ause
a frost to come, before which the fire shall be ashamed, and creep away.&qu=
ot;
Then he put his cap on straight, and immediately there came such a frost th=
at all
heat disappeared, and the food on the dishes began to freeze. When an hour =
or
two had passed by, and the King believed that they had perished in the heat=
, he
had the doors opened to behold them himself. But when the doors were opened,
all six were standing there, alive and well, and said that they should very
much like to get out to warm themselves, for the very food was fast frozen =
to
the dishes with the cold. Then, full of anger, the King went down to the co=
ok,
scolded him, and asked why he had not done what he had been ordered to do. =
But
the cook replied, "There is heat enough there, just look yourself.&quo=
t;
Then the King saw that a fierce fire was burning under the iron room, and
perceived that there was no getting the better of the six in this way.
Again
the King considered how to get rid of his unpleasant guests, and caused the=
ir
chief to be brought and said, "If thou wilt take gold and renounce my
daughter, thou shalt have as much as thou wilt."
"Oh,
yes, Lord King," he answered, "give me as much as my servant can =
carry,
and I will not ask for your daughter."
On
this the King was satisfied, and the other continued, "In fourteen day=
s, I
will come and fetch it." Thereupon he summoned together all the tailor=
s in
the whole kingdom, and they were to sit for fourteen days and sew a sack. A=
nd
when it was ready, the strong one who could tear up trees had to take it on=
his
back, and go with it to the King. Then said the King, "Who can that st=
rong
fellow be who is carrying a bundle of linen on his back that is as big as a
house?" and he was alarmed and said, "What a lot of gold he can c=
arry
away!" Then he commanded a ton of gold to be brought; it took sixteen =
of
his strongest men to carry it, but the strong one snatched it up in one han=
d,
put it in his sack, and said, "Why don't you bring more at the same ti=
me?
that hardly covers the bottom!" Then, little by little, the King caused
all his treasure to be brought thither, and the strong one pushed it into t=
he
sack, and still the sack was not half full with it. "Bring more,"
cried he, "these few crumbs don't fill it." Then seven thousand c=
arts
with gold had to be gathered together in the whole kingdom, and the strong =
one
thrust them and the oxen harnessed to them into his sack. "I will exam=
ine
it no longer," said he, "but will just take what comes, so long as
the sack is but full." When all that was inside, there was still room =
for
a great deal more; Then he said, "I will just make an end of the thing;
people do sometimes tie up a sack even when it is not full." So he too=
k it
on his back, and went away with his comrades. When the King now saw how one
single man was carrying away the entire wealth of the country, he became
enraged, and bade his horsemen mount and pursue the six, and ordered them to
take the sack away from the strong one.&nb=
sp;
Two regiments speedily overtook the six, and called out, "You a=
re
prisoners, put down the sack with the gold, or you will all be cut to
pieces!" "What say you?"&nb=
sp;
cried the blower, "that we are prisoners! Rather than that shou=
ld
happen, all of you shall dance about in the air." And he closed one
nostril, and with the other blew on the two regiments. Then they were driven
away from each other, and carried into the blue sky over all the mountains =
one
here, the other there. One sergeant cried for mercy; he had nine wounds, and
was a brave fellow who did not deserve ill treatment. The blower stopped a
little so that he came down without injury, and then the blower said to him=
, "Now
go home to thy King, and tell him he had better send some more horsemen, an=
d I
will blow them all into the air." When the King was informed of this he
said, "Let the rascals go. They have the best of it." Then the six
conveyed the riches home, divided it amongst them, and lived in content unt=
il
their death.
Once
on a time the fox was talking to the wolf of the strength of man; how no an=
imal
could withstand him, and how all were obliged to employ cunning in order to
preserve themselves from him. Then the wolf answered, "If I had but the
chance of seeing a man for once, I would set on him notwithstanding."
"I can help thee to do that," said the fox. "Come to me early
to-morrow morning, and I will show thee one." The wolf presented himse=
lf
betimes, and the fox took him out on the road by which the huntsmen went da=
ily.
First came an old discharged soldier. "Is that a man?" inquired t=
he
wolf. "No," answered the fox, "that was one." Afterwards
came a little boy who was going to school. "Is that a man?" "No, that is going to be one.=
"
At length came a hunter with his double-barrelled gun at his back, and hang=
er
by his side. Said the fox to the wolf, "Look, there comes a man, thou =
must
attack him, but I will take myself off to my hole." The wolf then rush=
ed
on the man. When the huntsman saw him he said, "It is a pity that I ha=
ve
not loaded with a bullet," aimed, and fired his small shot in his
face. The wolf pulled a very =
wry
face, but did not let himself be frightened, and attacked him again, on whi=
ch
the huntsman gave him the second barrel. The wolf swallowed his pain, and
rushed on the huntsman, but he drew out his bright hanger, and gave him a f=
ew
cuts with it right and left, so that, bleeding everywhere, he ran howling b=
ack
to the fox. "Well, brother wolf," said the fox, "how hast th=
ou
got on with man?" "Ah!" replied the wolf, "I never imag=
ined
the strength of man to be what it is! First, he took a stick from his shoul=
der,
and blew into it, and then something flew into my face which tickled me
terribly; then he breathed once more into the stick, and it flew into my no=
se
like lightning and hail; when I was quite close, he drew a white rib out of=
his
side, and he beat me so with it that I was all but left lying dead."
"See what a braggart thou art!" said the fox. "Thou throwest=
thy
hatchet so far that thou canst not fetch it back again!"
The
wolf had the fox with him, and whatsoever the wolf wished, that the fox was
compelled to do, for he was the weaker, and he would gladly have been rid of
his master. It chanced that once as they were going through the forest, the
wolf said, "Red-fox, get me something to eat, or else I will eat thee
thyself." Then the fox answered, "I know a farm-yard where there =
are
two young lambs; if thou art inclined, we will fetch one of them." That
suited the wolf, and they went thither, and the fox stole the little lamb, =
took
it to the wolf, and went away. The wolf devoured it, but was not satisfied =
with
one; he wanted the other as well, and went to get it. As, however, he did i=
t so
awkwardly, the mother of the little lamb heard him, and began to cry out te=
rribly,
and to bleat so that the farmer came running there. They found the wolf, and
beat him so mercilessly, that he went to the fox limping and howling.
"Thou hast misled me finely," said he; "I wanted to fetch the
other lamb, and the country folks surprised me, and have beaten me to a
jelly." The fox replied, "Why art thou such a glutton?"
Next
day they again went into the country, and the greedy wolf once more said,
"Red-fox, get me something to eat, or I will eat thee thyself." T=
hen answered
the fox, "I know a farm-house where the wife is baking pancakes to-nig=
ht;
we will get some of them for ourselves." They went there, and the fox
slipped round the house, and peeped and sniffed about until he discovered w=
here
the dish was, and then drew down six pancakes and carried them to the wolf.
"There is something for thee to eat," said he to him, and then we=
nt
his way. The wolf swallowed down the pancakes in an instant, and said,
"They make one want more," and went thither and tore the whole di=
sh
down so that it broke in pieces.
This made such a great noise that the woman came out, and when she s=
aw
the wolf she called the people, who hurried there, and beat him as long as
their sticks would hold together, till with two lame legs, and howling loud=
ly,
he got back to the fox in the forest. "How abominably thou hast misled
me!" cried he, "the peasants caught me, and tanned my skin for
me." But the fox replied, "Why art thou such a glutton?"
On the
third day, when they were out together, and the wolf could only limp along
painfully, he again said, "Red-fox, get me something to eat, or I will=
eat
thee thyself." The fox answered, "I know a man who has been killi=
ng,
and the salted meat is lying in a barrel in the cellar; we will get that.&q=
uot;
Said the wolf, "I will go when thou dost, that thou mayest help me if =
I am
not able to get away." "I am willing," said the fox, and sho=
wed
him the by-paths and ways by which at length they reached the cellar. There=
was
meat in abundance, and the wolf attacked it instantly and thought, "Th=
ere
is plenty of time before I need leave off!" The fox liked it also, but
looked about everywhere, and often ran to the hole by which they had come i=
n,
and tried if his body was still thin enough to slip through it. The wolf sa=
id,
"Dear fox, tell me why thou art running here and there so much, and
jumping in and out?"
"I
must see that no one is coming," replied the crafty fellow. "Don'=
t eat
too much!" Then said the wolf, "I shall not leave until the barre=
l is
empty." In the meantime the farmer, who had heard the noise of the fox=
's
jumping, came into the cellar. When the fox saw him he was out of the hole =
at
one bound. The wolf wanted to follow him, but he had made himself so fat wi=
th
eating that he could no longer get through, but stuck fast. Then came the
farmer with a cudgel and struck him dead, but the fox bounded into the fore=
st,
glad to be rid of the old glutton.
The
she-wolf brought forth a young one, and invited the fox to be godfather.
It
happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and as she thought to hersel=
f,
"He is clever and full of experience, and much esteemed in the
world," she spoke to him in a friendly way. "Good-day, dear Mr. F=
ox, how
are you? How is all with you? How are you getting through this dear season?=
"
The fox, full of all kinds of arrogance, looked at the cat from head to foo=
t,
and for a long time did not know whether he would give any answer or not. At
last he said, "Oh, thou wretched beard-cleaner, thou piebald fool, thou
hungry mouse-hunter, what canst thou be thinking of? Dost thou venture to a=
sk
how I am getting on? What hast thou learnt? How many arts dost thou
understand?" "I understand but one," replied the cat, modest=
ly.
"What art is that?" asked the fox. "When the hounds are
following me, I can spring into a tree and save myself." "Is
that
all?" said the fox. &quo=
t;I am
master of a hundred arts, and have into the bargain a sackful of cunning. Thou makest me sorry for thee; com=
e with
me, I will teach thee how people get away from the hounds." Just then =
came
a hunter with four dogs. The cat sprang nimbly up a tree, and sat down on t=
op
of it, where the branches and foliage quite concealed her. "Open your
sack, Mr. Fox, open your sack," cried the cat to him, but the dogs had
already seized him, and were holding him fast. "Ah, Mr. Fox," cried the cat. "Yo=
u with
your hundred arts are left in the lurch! Had you been able to climb like me,
you would not have lost your life."
There
was once on a time a Queen to whom God had given no children. Every morning=
she
went into the garden and prayed to God in heaven to bestow on her a son or a
daughter. Then an angel from heaven came to her and said, "Be at rest,
thou shalt have a son with the power of wishing, so that whatsoever in the
world he wishes for, that shall he have." Then she went to the King, a=
nd
told him the joyful tidings, and when the time was come she gave birth to a
son, and the King was filled with gladness. Every morning she went with the
child to the garden where the wild beasts were kept, and washed herself the=
re
in a clear stream. It happened once when the child was a little older, that=
it
was lying in her arms and she fell asleep. Then came the old cook, who knew
that the child had the power of wishing, and stole it away, and he took a h=
en,
and cut it in pieces, and dropped some of its blood on the Queen's apron an=
d on
her dress. Then he carried the child away to a secret place, where a nurse =
was
obliged to suckle it, and he ran to the King and accused the Queen of having
allowed her child to be taken from her by the wild beasts. When the King saw
the blood on her apron, he believed this, fell into such a passion that he =
ordered
a high tower to be built, in which neither sun nor moon could be seen, and =
had
his wife put into it, and walled up. Here she was to stay for seven years
without meat or drink, and die of hunger. But God sent two angels from heav=
en
in the shape of white doves, which flew to her twice a day, and carried her
food until the seven years were over.
The
cook, however, thought to himself, "If the child has the power of wish=
ing,
and I am here, he might very easily get me into trouble." So he left t=
he
palace and went to the boy, who was already big enough to speak, and said to
him, "Wish for a beautiful palace for thyself with a garden, and all e=
lse
that pertains to it." Sc=
arcely
were the words out of the boy's mouth, when everything was there that he had
wished for. After a while the cook said to him, "It is not well for th=
ee
to be so alone, wish for a pretty girl as a companion." Then the King's
son wished for one, and she immediately stood before him, and was more
beautiful than any painter could have painted her. The two played together,=
and
loved each other with all their hearts, and the old cook went out hunting l=
ike a
nobleman. The thought, however, occurred to him that the King's son might s=
ome
day wish to be with his father, and thus bring him into great peril. So he =
went
out and took the maiden aside, and said, "To-night when the boy is asl=
eep,
go to his bed and plunge this knife into his heart, and bring me his heart =
and
tongue, and if thou dost not do it, thou shalt lose thy life." Thereup=
on
he went away, and when he returned next day she had not done it, and said,
"Why should I shed the blood of an innocent boy who has never harmed a=
ny
one?" The cook once more said, "If thou dost not do it, it shall =
cost
thee thy own life." When he had gone away, she had a little hind broug=
ht
to her, and ordered her to be killed, and took her heart and tongue, and la=
id
them on a plate, and when she saw the old man coming, she said to the boy,
"Lie down in thy bed, and draw the clothes over thee." Then the
wicked wretch came in and said, "Where are the boy's heart and
tongue?" The girl reached the plate to him, but the King's son threw o=
ff
the quilt, and said, "Thou old sinner, why didst thou want to kill me?=
Now
will I pronounce thy sentence. Thou shalt become a black poodle and have a =
gold
collar round thy neck, and shalt eat burning coals, till the flames burst f=
orth
from thy throat." And when he had spoken these words, the old man was
changed into a poodle dog, and had a gold collar round his neck, and the co=
oks
were ordered to bring up some live coals, and these he ate, until the flames
broke forth from his throat. =
The
King's son remained there a short while longer, and he thought of his mothe=
r,
and wondered if she were still alive. At length he said to the maiden, &quo=
t;I
will go home to my own country; if thou wilt go with me, I will provide for
thee." "Ah," s=
he
replied, "the way is so long, and what shall I do in a strange land wh=
ere
I am unknown?" As she did not seem quite willing, and as they could no=
t be
parted from each other, he wished that she might be changed into a beautiful
pink, and took her with him. Then he went away to his own country, and the =
poodle
had to run after him. He went to the tower in which his mother was confined,
and as it was so high, he wished for a ladder which would reach up to the v=
ery
top. Then he mounted up and looked inside, and cried, "Beloved mother,
Lady Queen, are you still alive, or are you dead?" She answered, "=
;I
have just eaten, and am still satisfied," for she thought the angels w=
ere
there. Said he, "I am your dear son, whom the wild beasts were said to
have torn from your arms; but I am alive still, and will speedily deliver
you." Then he descended again, and went to his father, and caused hims=
elf
to be announced as a strange huntsman, and asked if he could give him a pla=
ce.
The King said yes, if he was skilful and could get game for him, he should =
come
to him, but that deer had never taken up their quarters in any part of the
district or country. Then the huntsman promised to procure as much game for=
him
as he could possibly use at the royal table. So he summoned all the huntsmen
together, and bade them go out into the forest with him. And he went with t=
hem
and made them form a great circle, open at one end where he stationed himse=
lf,
and began to wish. Two hundred deer and more came running inside the circle=
at
once, and the huntsmen shot them. Then they were all placed on sixty countr=
y carts,
and driven home to the King, and for once he was able to deck his table with
game, after having had none at all for years.
Now
the King felt great joy at this, and commanded that his entire household sh=
ould
eat with him next day, and made a great feast. When they were all assembled
together, he said to the huntsmen, "As thou art so clever, thou shalt =
sit
by me." He replied, "Lord King, your majesty must excuse me, I am=
a
poor huntsman." But the King insisted on it, and said, "Thou shalt
sit by me," until he did it. Whilst he was sitting there, he thought of
his dearest mother, and wished that one of the King's principal servants wo=
uld
begin to speak of her, and would ask how it was faring with the Queen in the
tower, and if she were alive still, or had perished. Hardly had he formed t=
he
wish than the marshal began, and said, "Your majesty, we live joyously
here, but how is the Queen living in the tower? Is she still alive, or has she
died?" But the King replied, "She let my dear son be torn to piec=
es
by wild beasts; I will not have her named." Then the huntsman arose and
said, "Gracious lord father, she is alive still, and I am her son, and=
I
was not carried away by wild beasts, but by that wretch the old cook, who t=
ore
me from her arms when she was asleep, and sprinkled her apron with the bloo=
d of
a chicken." Thereupon he took the dog with the golden collar, and said=
, "That
is the wretch!" and caused live coals to be brought, and these the dog=
was
compelled to devour before the sight of all, until flames burst forth from =
its
throat. On this the huntsman =
asked
the King if he would like to see the dog in his true shape, and wished him =
back
into the form of the cook, in the which he stood immediately, with his whit=
e apron,
and his knife by his side. When the King saw him he fell into a passion, and
ordered him to be cast into the deepest dungeon. Then the huntsman spoke further and
said, "Father, will you see the maiden who brought me up so tenderly a=
nd
who was afterwards to murder me, but did not do it, though her own life
depended on it?" The King replied, "Yes, I would like to see
her." The son said, "Most gracious father, I will show her to you=
in
the form of a beautiful flower," and he thrust his hand into his pocket
and brought forth the pink, and placed it on the royal table, and it was so
beautiful that the King had never seen one to equal it. Then the son said,
"Now will I show her to you in her own form," and wished that she
might become a maiden, and she stood there looking so beautiful that no pai=
nter
could have made her look more so.
And
the King sent two waiting-maids and two attendants into the tower, to fetch=
the
Queen and bring her to the royal table. But when she was led in she ate
nothing, and said, "The gracious and merciful God who has supported me=
in
the tower, will speedily deliver me." She lived three days more, and t=
hen
died happily, and when she was buried, the two white doves which had brought
her food to the tower, and were angels of heaven, followed her body and sea=
ted
themselves on her grave. The aged King ordered the cook to be torn in four
pieces, but grief consumed the King's own heart, and he soon died. His son
married the beautiful maiden whom he had brought with him as a flower in his
pocket, and whether they are still alive or not, is known to God.
There
was once a cook named Grethel, who wore shoes with red rosettes, and when s=
he
walked out with them on, she turned herself this way and that, and thought,
"You certainly are a pretty girl!" And when she came home she dra=
nk,
in her gladness of heart, a draught of wine, and as wine excites a desire to
eat, she tasted the best of whatever she was cooking until she was satisfie=
d,
and said, "The cook must know what the food is like."
It
came to pass that the master one day said to her, "Grethel, there is a
guest coming this evening; prepare me two fowls very daintily." "=
I will
see to it, master," answered Grethel. She killed two fowls, scalded th=
em,
plucked them, put them on the spit, and towards evening set them before the
fire, that they might roast. The fowls began to turn brown, and were nearly
ready, but the guest had not yet arrived. Then Grethel called out to her
master, "If the guest does not come, I must take the fowls away from t=
he
fire, but it will be a sin and a shame if they are not eaten directly, when
they are juiciest." The master said, "I will run myself, and fetch
the guest." When the master had turned his back, Grethel laid the spit
with the fowls on one side, and thought, "Standing so long by the fire
there, makes one hot and thirsty; who knows when they will come? Meanwhile,=
I
will run into the cellar, and take a drink." She ran down, set a jug,
said, "God bless it to thy use, Grethel," and took a good drink, =
and
took yet another hearty draught.
Then
she went and put the fowls down again to the fire, basted them, and drove t=
he
spit merrily round. But as the roast meat smelt so good, Grethel thought,
"Something might be wrong, it ought to be tasted!" She touched it
with her finger, and said, "Ah! how good fowls are! It certainly is a =
sin
and a shame that they are not eaten directly!" She ran to the window, =
to
see if the master was not coming with his guest, but she saw no one, and we=
nt
back to the fowls and thought, "One of the wings is burning! I had bet=
ter
take it off and eat it." So she cut it off, ate it, and enjoyed it, and
when she had done, she thought, "the other must go down too, or else
master will observe that something is missing." When the two wings were
eaten, she went and looked for her master, and did not see him. It suddenly
occurred to her, "Who knows? They are perhaps not coming at all, and h=
ave
turned in somewhere." Then she said, "Hallo, Grethel, enjoy yours=
elf,
one fowl has been cut into, take another drink, and eat it up entirely; whe=
n it
is eaten you will have some peace, why should God's good gifts be spoilt?&q=
uot;
So she ran into the cellar again, took an enormous drink and ate up the one
chicken in great glee. When one of the chickens was swallowed down, and sti=
ll
her master did not come, Grethel looked at the other and said, "Where =
one
is, the other should be likewise, the two go together; what's right for the=
one
is right for the other; I think if I were to take another draught it would =
do
me no harm." So she took another hearty drink, and let the second chic=
ken
rejoin the first.
While
she was just in the best of the eating, her master came and cried, hurry up,
"Haste thee, Grethel, the guest is coming directly after me!"
"Yes, sir, I will soon serve up," answered Grethel. Meantime the
master looked to see that the table was properly laid, and took the great
knife, wherewith he was going to carve the chickens, and sharpened it on the
steps. Presently the guest came, and knocked politely and courteously at the
house-door. Grethel ran, and looked to see who was there, and when she saw =
the
guest, she put her finger to her lips and said, "Hush! hush! get away =
as
quickly as you can, if my master catches you it will be the worse for you; =
he
certainly did ask you to supper, but his intention is to cut off your two e=
ars.
Just listen how he is sharpening the knife for it!" The guest heard the
sharpening, and hurried down the steps again as fast as he could. Grethel was not idle; she ran scre=
aming
to her master, and cried, "You have invited a fine guest!" "=
Eh, why,
Grethel? What do you mean by that?" "Yes," said she, "he
has taken the chickens which I was just going to serve up, off the dish, and
has run away with them!" "That's a nice trick!" said her mas=
ter,
and lamented the fine chickens. "If he had but left me one, so that
something remained for me to eat." He called to him to stop, but the g=
uest
pretended not to hear. Then he ran after him with the knife still in his ha=
nd,
crying, "Just one, just one," meaning that the guest should leave=
him
just one chicken, and not take both. The guest, however, thought no otherwi=
se than
that he was to give up one of his ears, and ran as if fire were burning und=
er
him, in order to take them both home with him.
There
was once a very old man, whose eyes had become dim, his ears dull of hearin=
g,
his knees trembled, and when he sat at table he could hardly hold the spoon,
and spilt the broth upon the table-cloth or let it run out of his mouth. His
son and his son's wife were disgusted at this, so the old grandfather at la=
st
had to sit in the corner behind the stove, and they gave him his food in an
earthenware bowl, and not even enough of it. And he used to look towards the
table with his eyes full of tears. Once, too, his trembling hands could not
hold the bowl, and it fell to the ground and broke. The young wife scolded =
him,
but he said nothing and only sighed. Then they bought him a wooden bowl for=
a few
half-pence, out of which he had to eat.
They
were once sitting thus when the little grandson of four years old began to
gather together some bits of wood upon the ground. "What are you doing
there?" asked the father. "I am making a little trough," ans=
wered
the child, "for father and mother to eat out of when I am big."
The
man and his wife looked at each other for a while, and presently began to c=
ry.
Then they took the old grandfather to the table, and henceforth always let =
him
eat with them, and likewise said nothing if he did spill a little of anythi=
ng.
A
little brother and sister were once playing by a well, and while they were =
thus
playing, they both fell in. A water-nix lived down below, who said, "N=
ow I
have got you, now you shall work hard for me!" and carried them off wi=
th
her. She gave the girl dirty tangled flax to spin, and she had to fetch wat=
er
in a bucket with a hole in it, and the boy had to hew down a tree with a bl=
unt
axe, and they got nothing to eat but dumplings as hard as stones. Then at l=
ast
the children became so impatient, that they waited until one Sunday, when t=
he
nix was at church, and ran away. But when church was over, the nix saw that=
the
birds were flown, and followed them with great strides. The children saw her
from afar, and the girl threw a brush behind her which formed an immense hi=
ll
of bristles, with thousands and thousands of spikes, over which the nix was=
forced
to scramble with great difficulty; at last, however, she got over. When the
children saw this, the boy threw behind him a comb which made a great hill =
of
combs with a thousand times a thousand teeth, but the nix managed to keep
herself steady on them, and at last crossed over that. Then the girl threw
behind her a looking-glass which formed a hill of mirrors, and was so slipp=
ery
that it was impossible for the nix to cross it. Then she thought, "I w=
ill
go home quickly and fetch my axe, and cut the hill of glass in half." =
Long
before she returned, however, and had hewn through the glass, the children =
had
escaped to a great distance, and the water-nix was obliged to betake hersel=
f to
her well again.
Once
upon a time the little hen went with the little cock to the nut-hill, and t=
hey
agreed together that whichsoever of them found a kernel of a nut should sha=
re
it with the other. Then the hen found a large, large nut, but said nothing
about it, intending to eat the kernel herself. The kernel, however, was so
large that she could not swallow it, and it remained sticking in her throat=
, so
that she was alarmed lest she should be choked. Then she cried, "Cock,=
I
entreat thee to run as fast thou canst, and fetch me some water, or I shall
choke." The little cock did run as fast as he could to the spring, and
said, "Stream, thou art to give me some water; the little hen is lying=
on
the nut-hill, and she has swallowed a large nut, and is choking." The =
well
answered, "First run to the bride, and get her to give thee some red
silk." The little cock ran to the bride and said, "Bride, you are=
to
give me some red silk; I want to give red silk to the well, the well is to =
give
me some water, I am to take the water to the little hen who is lying on the
nut-hill and has swallowed a great nut-kernel, and is choking with it."
The bride answered, "First run and bring me my little wreath which is
hanging to a willow." So=
the
little cock ran to the willow, and drew the wreath from the branch and took=
it
to the bride, and the bride gave him some water for it. Then the little cock
took the water to the hen, but when he got there the hen had choked in the
meantime, and lay there dead and motionless. Then the cock was so distressed
that he cried aloud, and every animal came to lament the little hen, and six
mice built a little carriage to carry her to her grave, and when the carria=
ge
was ready they harnessed themselves to it, and the cock drove. On the way,
however, they met the fox, who said, "Where art thou going, little
cock?" "I am going to bury my little hen." "May I drive
with thee?" "Yes, but seat thyself at the back of the carriage, f=
or
in the front my little horses could not drag thee." Then the fox seated
himself at the back, and after that the wolf, the bear, the stag, the lion,=
and
all the beasts of the forest did the same. Then the procession went onwards,
and they reached the stream. "How are we to get over?" said the
little cock. A straw was lying by the stream, and it said, "I will lay
myself across, and you shall drive over me." But when the six mice cam=
e to
the bridge, the straw slipped and fell into the water, and the six mice all
fell in and were drowned. Then they were again in difficulty, and a coal ca=
me
and said, "I am large enough, I will lay myself across and you shall d=
rive
over me." So the coal also laid itself across the water, but unhappily
just touched it, on which the coal hissed, was extinguished and died. When a stone saw that, it took pit=
y on
the little cock, wished to help him, and laid itself over the water. Then t=
he
cock drew the carriage himself, but when he got it over and reached the oth=
er
shore with the dead hen, and was about to draw over the others who were sit=
ting
behind as well, there were too many of them, the carriage ran back, and they
all fell into the water together, and were drowned. Then the little cock was
left alone with the dead hen, and dug a grave for her and laid her in it, a=
nd
made a mound above it, on which he sat down and fretted until he died too, =
and
then every one was dead.
There
was one on a time a great war, and when it came to an end, many soldiers we=
re
discharged. Then Brother Lustig also received his dismissal, and besides th=
at,
nothing but a small loaf of contract-bread, and four kreuzers in money, with
which he departed. St. Peter had, however, placed himself in his way in the
shape of a poor beggar, and when Brother Lustig came up, he begged alms of =
him.
Brother Lustig replied, "Dear beggar-man, what am I to give you? I have
been a soldier, and have received my dismissal, and have nothing but this
little loaf of contract-bread, and four kreuzers of money; when that is gon=
e, I
shall have to beg as well as you. Still I will give you something." Th=
ereupon
he divided the loaf into four parts, and gave the apostle one of them, and a
kreuzer likewise. St. Peter thanked him, went onwards, and threw himself ag=
ain
in the soldier's way as a beggar, but in another shape; and when he came up
begged a gift of him as before. Brother Lustig spoke as he had done before,=
and
again gave him a quarter of the loaf and one kreuzer. St. Peter thanked him,
and went onwards, but for the third time placed himself in another shape as=
a
beggar on the road, and spoke to Brother Lustig. Brother Lustig gave him al=
so
the third quarter of bread and the third kreuzer. St. Peter thanked him, and
Brother Lustig went onwards, and had but a quarter of the loaf, and one
kreuzer. With that he went in=
to an
inn, ate the bread, and ordered one kreuzer's worth of beer. When he had had
it, he journeyed onwards, and then St. Peter, who had assumed the appearanc=
e of
a discharged soldier, met and spoke to him thus: "Good day, comrade, c=
anst
thou not give me a bit of bread, and a kreuzer to get a drink?"
"Where am I to procure it?" answered Brother Lustig; "I have
been discharged, and I got nothing but a loaf of ammunition-bread and four
kreuzers in money. I met three beggars on the road, and I gave each of them=
a
quarter of my bread, and one kreuzer. The last quarter I ate in the inn, and
had a drink with the last kreuzer. Now my pockets are empty, and if thou al=
so hast
nothing we can go a-begging together." "No," answered St. Pe=
ter,
"we need not quite do that. I know a little about medicine, and I will=
soon
earn as much as I require by that." "Indeed," said Brother
Lustig, "I know nothing of that, so I must go and beg alone."
"Just come with me," said St. Peter, "and if I earn anything,
thou shalt have half of it." "All right," said Brother Lusti=
g,
so they went away together.
Then
they came to a peasant's house inside which they heard loud lamentations and
cries; so they went in, and there the husband was lying sick unto death, and
very near his end, and his wife was crying and weeping quite loudly. "=
Stop
that howling and crying," said St. Peter, "I will make the man we=
ll
again," and he took a salve out of his pocket, and healed the sick man=
in
a moment, so that he could get up, and was in perfect health. In great deli=
ght
the man and his wife said, "How can we reward you? What shall we give
you?" But St. Peter would take nothing, and the more the peasant folks
offered him, the more he refused. Brother Lustig, however, nudged St. Peter,
and said, "Take something; sure enough we are in need of it." At
length the woman brought a lamb and said to St. Peter that he really must take tha=
t, but
he would not. Then Brother Lustig gave him a poke in the side, and said,
"Do take it, you stupid fool; we are in great want of it!" Then S=
t.
Peter said at last, "Well, I will take the lamb, but I won't carry it;=
if
thou wilt insist on having it, thou must carry it." "That is
nothing," said Brother Lustig. "I will easily carry it," and
took it on his shoulder. Then they departed and came to a wood, but Brother
Lustig had begun to feel the lamb heavy, and he was hungry, so he said to S=
t.
Peter, "Look, that's a good place, we might cook the lamb there, and e=
at
it." "As you like," answered St. Peter, "but I can't ha=
ve
anything to do with the cooking; if thou wilt cook, there is a kettle for t=
hee,
and in the meantime I will walk about a little until it is ready. Thou must,
however, not begin to eat until I have come back, I will come at the right
time." "Well, go, then," said Brother Lustig, "I unders=
tand
cookery, I will manage it." Then St. Peter went away, and Brother Lust=
ig
killed the lamb, lighted a fire, threw the meat into the kettle, and boiled=
it.
The lamb was, however, quite ready, and the apostle Peter had not come back=
, so
Brother Lustig took it out of the kettle, cut it up, and found the heart.
"That is said to be the best part," said he, and tasted it, but at
last he ate it all up. At length St. Peter returned and said, "Thou ma=
yst
eat the whole of the lamb thyself, I will only have the heart, give me
that." Then Brother Lustig took a knife and fork, and pretended to look
anxiously about amongst the lamb's flesh, but not to be able to find the he=
art,
and at last he said abruptly, "There is none here." "But whe=
re
can it be?" said the apostle. "I don't know," replied Brother
Lustig, "but look, what fools we both are, to seek for the lamb's hear=
t,
and neither of us to remember that a lamb has no heart!" "Oh,&quo=
t;
said St. Peter, "that is something quite new! Every animal has a heart,
why is a lamb to have none?" "No, be assured, my brother," s=
aid
Brother Lustig, "that a lamb has no heart; just consider it seriously,=
and
then you will see that it really has none." "Well, it is all
right," said St. Peter, "if there is no heart, then I want none of
the lamb; thou mayst eat it alone." "What I can't eat now, I will
carry away in my knapsack," said Brother Lustig, and he ate half the l=
amb,
and put the rest in his knapsack.
They
went farther, and then St. Peter caused a great stream of water to flow rig=
ht
across their path, and they were obliged to pass through it. Said St. Peter,
"Do thou go first." "No," answered Brother Lustig, &quo=
t;thou
must go first," and he thought, "if the water is too deep I will =
stay
behind." Then St. Peter strode through it, and the water just reached =
to
his knee. So Brother Lustig began to go through also, but the water grew de=
eper
and reached to his throat. Then he cried, "Brother, help me!" St.
Peter said, "Then wilt thou confess that thou hast eaten the lamb's
heart?" "No," said he, "I have not eaten it." Then=
the
water grew deeper still and rose to his mouth. "Help me, brother,"
cried the soldier. St. Peter said, "Then wilt thou confess that thou h=
ast
eaten the lamb's heart?" "No," he replied, "I have not
eaten it." St. Peter, however, would not let him be drowned, but made =
the
water sink and helped him through it.
Then
they journeyed onwards, and came to a kingdom where they heard that the Kin=
g's
daughter lay sick unto death. "Hollo, brother!" said the soldier =
to
St. Peter, "this is a ch=
ance
for us; if we can heal her we shall be provided for, for life!" But St.
Peter was not half quick enough for him, "Come, lift your legs, my dear
brother," said he, "that we may get there in time." But St.
Peter walked slower and slower, though Brother Lustig did all he could to d=
rive
and push him on, and at last they heard that the princess was dead. "N=
ow
we are done for!" said Brother Lustig; "that comes of thy sleepy =
way
of walking!" "Just be quiet," answered St. Peter, "I ca=
n do
more than cure sick people; I can bring dead ones to life again."
"Well, if thou canst do that," said Brother Lustig, "it's all
right, but thou shouldst earn at least half the kingdom for us by that.&quo=
t;
Then they went to the royal palace, where every one was in great grief, but=
St.
Peter told the King that he would restore his daughter to life. He was take=
n to
her, and said, "Bring me a kettle and some water," and when that =
was
brought, he bade everyone go out, and allowed no one to remain with him but
Brother Lustig. Then he cut off all the dead girl's limbs, and threw them in
the water, lighted a fire beneath the kettle, and boiled them. And when the
flesh had fallen away from the bones, he took out the beautiful white bones=
, and
laid them on a table, and arranged them together in their natural order. Wh=
en
he had done that, he stepped forward and said three times, "In the nam=
e of
the holy Trinity, dead woman, arise." And at the third time, the princ=
ess
arose, living, healthy and beautiful. Then the King was in the greatest joy,
and said to St. Peter, "Ask for thy reward; even if it were half my
kingdom, I would give it thee." But St. Peter said, "I want nothi=
ng
for it." "Oh, thou
tomfool!" thought Brother Lustig to himself, and nudged his comrade's
side, and said, "Don't be so stupid! If thou hast no need of anything,=
I
have." St. Peter, howeve=
r,
would have nothing, but as the King saw that the other would very much like=
to
have something, he ordered his treasurer to fill Brother Lustig's knapsack =
with
gold. Then they went on their way, and when they came to a forest, St. Peter
said to Brother Lustig, "Now, we will divide the gold."
"Yes," he replied, "we will." So St. Peter divided the
gold, and divided it into three heaps.&nbs=
p;
Brother Lustig thought to himself, "What craze has he got in his
head now? He is making three shares, and there are only two of us!" But
St. Peter said, "I have divided it exactly; there is one share for me,=
one
for thee, and one for him who ate the lamb's heart."
"Oh,
I ate that!" replied Brother Lustig, and hastily swept up the gold.
"You may trust what I say." "But how can that be true,"
said St. Peter, "when a lamb has no heart?" "Eh, what, broth=
er,
what can you be thinking of? Lambs have hearts like other animals, why shou=
ld
only they have none?" "Well, so be it," said St. Peter,
"keep the gold to yourself, but I will stay with you no longer; I will=
go
my way alone." "As you like, dear brother," answered Brother
Lustig. "Farewell."
Then
St. Peter went a different road, but Brother Lustig thought, "It is a =
good
thing that he has taken himself off, he is certainly a strange saint, after
all." Then he had money enough, but did not know how to manage it,
squandered it, gave it away, and and when some time had gone by, once more =
had
nothing. Then he arrived in a certain country where he heard that a King's
daughter was dead. "Oh,
ho!" thought he, "that may be a good thing for me; I will bring h=
er
to life again, and see that I am paid as I ought to be." So he went to=
the
King, and offered to raise the dead girl to life again. Now the King had he=
ard
that a discharged soldier was traveling about and bringing dead persons to =
life
again, and thought that Brother Lustig was the man; but as he had no confid=
ence
in him, he consulted his councillors first, who said that he might give it a
trial as his daughter was dead. Then Brother Lustig ordered water to be bro=
ught
to him in a kettle, bade every one go out, cut the limbs off, threw them in=
the
water and lighted a fire beneath, just as he had seen St. Peter do. The wat=
er
began to boil, the flesh fell off, and then he took the bones out and laid =
them
on the table, but he did not know the order in which to lay them, and placed
them all wrong and in confusion. Then he stood before them and said, "=
In
the name of the most holy Trinity, dead maiden, I bid thee arise," and=
he
said this thrice, but the bones did not stir. So he said it thrice more, but
also in vain: "Confounded girl that you are, get up!" cried he,
"Get up, or it shall be worse for you!" When he had said that, St.
Peter suddenly appeared in his former shape as a discharged soldier; he ent=
ered
by the window and said, "Godless man, what art thou doing? How can the
dead maiden arise, when thou hast thrown about her bones in such
confusion?" "Dear brother, I have done everything to the best of =
my
ability," he answered. "This once, I will help thee out of thy
difficulty, but one thing I tell thee, and that is that if ever thou
undertakest anything of the kind again, it will be the worse for thee, and =
also
that thou must neither demand nor accept the smallest thing from the King f=
or
this!" Thereupon St. Peter laid the bones in their right order, said to
the maiden three times, "In the name of the most holy Trinity, dead
maiden, arise," and the King's daughter arose, healthy and beautiful as
before. Then St. Peter went away again by the window, and Brother Lustig was
rejoiced to find that all had passed off so well, but was very much vexed to
think that after all he was not to take anything for it. "I should just
like to know," thought he, "what fancy that fellow has got in his
head, for what he gives with one hand he takes away with the other there is=
no sense
whatever in it!" Then the King offered Brother Lustig whatsoever he wi=
shed
to have, but he did not dare to take anything; however, by hints and cunnin=
g,
he contrived to make the King order his knapsack to be filled with gold for
him, and with that he departed.
When he got out, St. Peter was standing by the door, and said,
"Just look what a man thou art; did I not forbid thee to take anything,
and there thou hast thy knapsack full of gold!" "How can I help
that," answered Brother Lustig, "if people will put it in for
me?" "Well, I tell thee this, that if ever thou settest about
anything of this kind again thou shalt suffer for it!" "Eh, broth=
er,
have no fear, now I have money, why should I trouble myself with washing
bones?" "Faith," said St. Peter, "the gold will last a =
long
time! In order that after this thou mayst never tread in forbidden paths, I
will bestow on thy knapsack this property, namely, that whatsoever thou wis=
hest
to have inside it, shall be there. Farewell, thou wilt now never see me
more." "Good-bye," said Brother Lustig, and thought to himse=
lf,
"I am very glad that thou hast taken thyself off, thou strange fellow;=
I
shall certainly not follow thee." But of the magical power which had b=
een
bestowed on his knapsack, he thought no more.
Brother
Lustig travelled about with his money, and squandered and wasted what he ha=
d as
before. When at last he had no more than four kreuzers, he passed by an inn=
and
thought, "The money must go," and ordered three kreuzers' worth of
wine and one kreuzer's worth of bread for himself. As he was sitting there
drinking, the smell of roast goose made its way to his nose. Brother Lustig
looked about and peeped, and saw that the host had two geese standing in the
oven. Then he remembered that his comrade had said that whatsoever he wishe=
d to
have in his knapsack should be there, so he said, "Oh, ho! I must try =
that
with the geese." So he went out, and when he was outside the door, he
said, "I wish those two roasted geese out of the oven and in my
knapsack," and when he had said that, he unbuckled it and looked in, a=
nd
there they were inside it. "Ah, that's right!" said he, "now=
I
am a made man!" and went away to a meadow and took out the roast meat.
When he was in the midst of his meal, two journeymen came up and looked at =
the
second goose, which was not yet touched, with hungry eyes. Brother Lustig
thought to himself, "One is enough for me," and called the two me=
n up
and said, "Take the goose, and eat it to my health." They thanked
him, and went with it to the inn, ordered themselves a half bottle of wine =
and
a loaf, took out the goose which had been given them, and began to eat. The
hostess saw them and said to her husband, "Those two are eating a goos=
e;
just look and see if it is not one of ours, out of the oven." The land=
lord
ran thither, and behold the oven was empty! "What!" cried he,
"you thievish crew, you want to eat goose as cheap as that? Pay for it
this moment; or I will wash you well with green hazel-sap." The two sa=
id,
"We are no thieves, a discharged soldier gave us the goose, outside th=
ere
in the meadow." "You shall not throw dust in my eyes that way! the
soldier was here but he went out by the door, like an honest fellow. I look=
ed
after him myself; you are the thieves and shall pay!" But as they could
not pay, he took a stick, and cudgeled them out of the house.
Brother
Lustig went his way and came to a place where there was a magnificent castl=
e,
and not far from it a wretched inn. He went to the inn and asked for a nigh=
t's
lodging, but the landlord turned him away, and said, "There is no more
room here, the house is full of noble guests." "It surprises me t=
hat
they should come to you and not go to that splendid castle," said Brot=
her
Lustig. "Ah, indeed," replied the host, "but it is no slight
matter to sleep there for a night; no one who has tried it so far, has ever
come out of it alive."
"If
others have tried it," said Brother Lustig, "I will try it too.&q=
uot;
"Leave
it alone," said the host, "it will cost you your neck." &quo=
t;It
won't kill me at once," said Brother Lustig, "just give me the ke=
y,
and some good food and wine." So the host gave him the key, and food a=
nd
wine, and with this Brother Lustig went into the castle, enjoyed his supper=
, and
at length, as he was sleepy, he lay down on the ground, for there was no be=
d.
He soon fell asleep, but during the night was disturbed by a great noise, a=
nd
when he awoke, he saw nine ugly devils in the room, who had made a circle, =
and
were dancing around him. Brot=
her
Lustig said, "Well, dance as long as you like, but none of you must co=
me
too close." But the devils pressed continually nearer to him, and almo=
st
stepped on his face with their hideous feet. "Stop, you devils' ghosts=
,"
said he, but they behaved still worse. Then Brother Lustig grew angry, and
cried, "Hola! but I will soon make it quiet," and got the leg of a
chair and struck out into the midst of them with it. But nine devils against
one soldier were still too many, and when he struck those in front of him, =
the
others seized him behind by the hair, and tore it unmercifully. "Devil=
s'
crew," cried he, "it is getting too bad, but wait. Into my knapsa=
ck,
all nine of you!" In an instant they were in it, and then he buckled i=
t up
and threw it into a corner. After this all was suddenly quiet, and Brother
Lustig lay down again, and slept till it was bright day. Then came the
inn-keeper, and the nobleman to whom the castle belonged, to see how he had
fared; but when they perceived that he was merry and well they were astonis=
hed,
and asked, "Have the spirits done you no harm, then?" "The
reason why they have not," answered Brother Lustig, "is because I
have got the whole nine of them in my knapsack! You may once more inhabit y=
our
castle quite tranquilly, none of them will ever haunt it again." The
nobleman thanked him, made him rich presents, and begged him to remain in h=
is
service, and he would provide for him as long as he lived. "No,"
replied Brother Lustig, "I am used to wandering about, I will travel
farther." Then he went away, and entered into a smithy, laid the knaps=
ack,
which contained the nine devils on the anvil, and asked the smith and his
apprentices to strike it. So they smote with their great hammers with all t=
heir
strength, and the devils uttered howls which were quite pitiable. When he
opened the knapsack after this, eight of them were dead, but one which had =
been
lying in a fold of it, was still alive, slipped out, and went back again to
hell. Thereupon Brother Lustig travelled a long time about the world, and t=
hose
who know them can tell many a story about him, but at last he grew old, and
thought of his end, so he went to a hermit who was known to be a pious man,=
and
said to him, "I am tired of wandering about, and want now to behave in
such a manner that I shall enter into the kingdom of Heaven." The herm=
it
replied, "There are two roads, one is broad and pleasant, and leads to
hell, the other is narrow and rough, and leads to heaven." "I sho=
uld
be a fool," thought Brother Lustig, "if I were to take the narrow,
rough road." So he set out and took the broad and pleasant road, and at
length came to a great black door, which was the door of Hell. Brother Lust=
ig
knocked, and the door-keeper peeped out to see who was there. But when he s=
aw
Brother Lustig, he was terrified, for he was the very same ninth devil who =
had
been shut up in the knapsack, and had escaped from it with a black eye. So =
he
pushed the bolt in again as quickly as he could, ran to the devil's lieuten=
ant,
and said, "There is a fellow outside with a knapsack, who wants to come
in, but as you value your lives don't allow him to enter, or he will wish t=
he whole
of hell into his knapsack. He once gave me a frightful hammering when I was
inside it." So they call=
ed out
to Brother Lustig that he was to go away again, for he should not get in th=
ere!
"If they won't have me here," thought he, "I will see if I c=
an
find a place for myself in heaven, for I must be somewhere." So he tur=
ned
about and went onwards until he came to the door of Heaven, where he knocke=
d.
St. Peter was sitting hard by as door-keeper. Brother Lustig recognised him=
at
once, and thought, "Here I find an old friend, I shall get on
better." But St. Peter said, "I really believe that thou wantest =
to
come into Heaven." "Let me in, brother; I must get in somewhere; =
if
they would have taken me into Hell, I should not have come here."
"No," said St. Peter, "thou shalt not enter." "The=
n if
thou wilt not let me in, take thy knapsack back, for I will have nothing at=
all
from thee." "Give it here, then," said St. Peter. Then Broth=
er
Lustig gave him the knapsack into Heaven through the bars, and St. Peter to=
ok
it, and hung it beside his seat. Then said Brother Lustig, "And now I =
wish
myself inside my knapsack," and in a second he was in it, and in Heave=
n,
and St. Peter was forced to let him stay there.
Once
upon a time there was a man who did nothing but gamble, and for that reason
people never called him anything but Gambling Hansel, and as he never cease=
d to
gamble, he played away his house and all that he had. Now the very day befo=
re
his creditors were to take his house from him, came the Lord and St. Peter, and asked him to give them
shelter for the night. Then Gambling Hansel said, "For my part, you may
stay the night, but I cannot give you a bed or anything to eat." So the
Lord said he was just to take them in, and they themselves would buy someth=
ing to
eat, to which Gambling Hansel made no objection. Thereupon St. Peter gave h=
im
three groschen, and said he was to go to the baker's and fetch some bread. =
So
Gambling Hansel went, but when he reached the house where the other gambling
vagabonds were gathered together, they, although they had won all that he h=
ad,
greeted him clamorously, and said, "Hansel, do come in."
"Oh," said he, "do you want to win the three groschen too?&q=
uot;
On this they would not let him go. So he went in, and played away the three=
groschen
also. Meanwhile St. Peter and the Lord were waiting, and as he was so long =
in
coming, they set out to meet him. When Gambling Hansel came, however, he
pretended that the money had fallen into the gutter, and kept raking about =
in
it all the while to find it, but our Lord already knew that he had lost it =
in
play. St. Peter again gave him three groschen, and now he did not allow him=
self
to be led away once more, but fetched them the loaf. Our Lord then inquired=
if
he had no wine, and he said, "Alack, sir, the casks are all empty!&quo=
t;
But the Lord said he was to go down into the cellar, for the best wine was
still there. For a long time he would not believe this, but at length he sa=
id,
"Well, I will go down, but I know that there is none there." When=
he
turned the tap, however, lo and behold, the best of wine ran out! So he too=
k it
to them, and the two passed the night there. Early next day our Lord told
Gambling Hansel that he might beg three favours. The Lord expected that he
would ask to go to Heaven; but Gambling Hansel asked for a pack of cards wi=
th
which he could win everything, for dice with which he would win everything,=
and
for a tree whereon every kind of fruit would grow, and from which no one who
had climbed up, could descend until he bade him do so. The Lord gave him all
that he had asked, and departed with St. Peter.
And
now Gambling Hansel at once set about gambling in real earnest, and before =
long
he had gained half the world. Upon this St. Peter said to the Lord, "L=
ord,
this thing must not go on, he will win, and thou lose, the whole world. We =
must
send Death to him." When Death appeared, Gambling Hansel had just seat=
ed
himself at the gaming-table, and Death said, "Hansel, come out a
while." But Gambling Han=
sel
said, "Just wait a little until the game is done, and in the meantime =
get
up into that tree out there, and gather a little fruit that we may have
something to munch on our way." Thereupon Death climbed up, but when he
wanted to come down again, he could not, and Gambling Hansel left him up th=
ere for
seven years, during which time no one died.
So St.
Peter said to the Lord, "Lord, this thing must not go on. People no lo=
nger
die; we must go ourselves." And they went themselves, and the Lord
commanded Hansel to let Death come down. So Hansel went at once to Death and
said to him, "Come down," and Death took him directly and put an =
end
to him. They went away together and came to the next world, and then Gambli=
ng
Hansel made straight for the door of Heaven, and knocked at it. "Who is
there?" "Gambling
Hansel." "Ah, we will have nothing to do with him! Begone!" =
So
he went to the door of Purgatory, and knocked once more. "Who is
there?" "Gambling
Hansel." "Ah, there is quite enough weeping and wailing here with=
out
him. We do not want to gamble, just go away again." Then he went to the
door of Hell, and there they let him in. There was, however, no one at home=
but
old Lucifer and the crooked devils who had just been doing their evil work =
in
the world. And no sooner was Hansel there than he sat down to gamble again.=
Lucifer,
however, had nothing to lose, but his mis-shapen devils, and Gambling Hansel
won them from him, as with his cards he could not fail to do. And now he was
off again with his crooked devils, and they went to Hohenfuert and pulled u=
p a
hop-pole, and with it went to Heaven and began to thrust the pole against i=
t,
and Heaven began to crack. So again St. Peter said, "Lord, this thing
cannot go on, we must let him in, or he will throw us down from Heaven.&quo=
t;
And they let him in. But Gambling Hansel instantly began to play again, and
there was such a noise and confusion that there was no hearing what they
themselves were saying. Therefore St. Peter once more said, "Lord, this
cannot go on, we must throw him down, or he will make all Heaven
rebellious." So they went to him at once, and threw him down, and his =
soul
broke into fragments, and went into the gambling vagabonds who are living t=
his
very day.
Hans
had served his master for seven years, so he said to him, "Master, my =
time
is up; now I should be glad to go back home to my mother; give me my
wages." The master answe=
red,
"You have served me faithfully and honestly; as the service was so sha=
ll
the reward be;" and he gave Hans a piece of gold as big as his head. H=
ans
pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped up the lump in it, put i=
t on
his shoulder, and set out on the way home.
As he went on, always putting one foot before the other, he saw a horseman trotti= ng quickly and merrily by on a lively horse. "Ah!" said Hans quite l= oud, "what a fine thing it is to ride! There you sit as on a chair; you stu= mble over no stones, you save your shoes, and get on, you don't know how."<= o:p>
The
rider, who had heard him, stopped and called out, "Hollo! Hans, why do=
you
go on foot, then?"
"I
must," answered he, "for I have this lump to carry home; it is tr=
ue that
it is gold, but I cannot hold my head straight for it, and it hurts my
shoulder."
"I
will tell you what," said the rider, "we will exchange: I will gi=
ve you
my horse, and you can give me your lump."
"With
all my heart," said Hans, "but I can tell you, you will have to c=
rawl
along with it."
The
rider got down, took the gold, and helped Hans up; then gave him the bridle
tight in his hands and said, "If you want to go at a really good pace,=
you
must click your tongue and call out, "Jup! Jup!"
Hans
was heartily delighted as he sat upon the horse and rode away so bold and f=
ree.
After a little while he thought that it ought to go faster, and he began to
click with his tongue and call out, "Jup! Jup!" The horse put him=
self
into a sharp trot, and before Hans knew where he was, he was thrown off and
lying in a ditch which separated the field from the highway. The horse would
have gone off too if it had not been stopped by a countryman, who was coming
along the road and driving a cow before him.
Hans
got his limbs together and stood up on his legs again, but he was vexed, and
said to the countryman, "It is a poor joke, this riding, especially wh=
en
one gets hold of a mare like this, that kicks and throws one off, so that o=
ne
has a chance of breaking one's neck. Never again will I mount it. Now I like
your cow, for one can walk quietly behind her, and have, over and above, on=
e's
milk, butter and cheese every day without fail. What would I not give to ha=
ve
such a cow." "Well," said the countryman, "if it would =
give
you so much pleasure, I do not mind giving the cow for the horse." Hans
agreed with the greatest delight; the countryman jumped upon the horse, and
rode quickly away.
Hans
drove his cow quietly before him, and thought over his lucky bargain. "=
;If
only I have a morsel of bread---and that can hardly fail me---I can eat but=
ter
and cheese with it as often as I like; if I am thirsty, I can milk my cow a=
nd
drink the milk. Good heart, what more can I want?"
When
he came to an inn he made a halt, and in his great content ate up what he h=
ad
with him---his dinner and supper---and all he had, and with his last few
farthings had half a glass of beer. Then he drove his cow onwards along the
road to his mother's village.
As it
drew nearer mid-day, the heat was more oppressive, and Hans found himself u=
pon
a moor which it took about an hour to cross. He felt it very hot and his to=
ngue
clave to the roof of his mouth with thirst. "I can find a cure for
this," thought Hans; "I will milk the cow now and refresh myself =
with
the milk." He tied her to a withered tree, and as he had no pail he put
his leather cap underneath; but try as he would, not a drop of milk came. A=
nd
as he set himself to work in a clumsy way, the impatient beast at last gave=
him
such a blow on his head with its hind foot, that he fell on the ground, and=
for
a long time could not think where he was.
By good fortune a butcher just then came along the road with a wheel-barrow, in which lay a young pig. "What sort of a trick is this?" cried he, = and helped the good Hans up. Hans told him what had happened. The butcher gave = him his flask and said, "Take a drink and refresh yourself. The cow will certainly give no milk, it is an old beast; at the best it is only fit for = the plough, or for the butcher." "Well, well," said Hans, as he stroked his hair down on his head, "who would have thought it? Certainly it is a fine thing when one can kill a beast like that at home; what meat one has! But I do not care mu= ch for beef, it is not juicy enough for me. A young pig like that now is the t= hing to have, it tastes quite different; and then there are the sausages!"<= o:p>
"Hark
ye, Hans," said the butcher, "out of love for you I will exchange=
, and
will let you have the pig for the cow." "Heaven repay you for you=
r kindness!"
said Hans as he gave up the cow, whilst the pig was unbound from the barrow,
and the cord by which it was tied was put in his hand.
Hans
went on, and thought to himself how everything was going just as he wished;=
if
he did meet with any vexation it was immediately set right. Presently there
joined him a lad who was carrying a fine white goose under his arm. They sa=
id
good morning to each other, and Hans began to tell of his good luck, and ho=
w he
had always made such good bargains. The boy told him that he was taking the
goose to a christening-feast. "Just lift her," added he, and laid
hold of her by the wings; "how heavy she is---she has been fattened up=
for
the last eight weeks. Whoever has a bit of her when she is roasted will hav=
e to
wipe the fat from both sides of his mouth." "Yes," said Hans=
, as
he weighed her in one hand, "she is a good weight, but my pig is no bad
one."
Meanwhile
the lad looked suspiciously from one side to the other, and shook his head.
"Look here," he said at length, "it may not be all right with
your pig. In the village through which I passed, the Mayor himself had just=
had
one stolen out of its sty. I fear---I fear that you have got hold of it the=
re.
They have sent out some people and it would be a bad business if they caught
you with the pig; at the very least, you would be shut up in the dark
hole."
The good Hans was terrified. "Goodness!" he said, "help me out of this fix; you know more about this place than I do, take my pig and leave m= e your goose." "I shall risk something at that game," answered the = lad, "but I will not be the cause of your getting into trouble." So he took the cord in his hand, and drove away the pig quickly along a by-path.<= o:p>
The
good Hans, free from care, went homewards with the goose under his arm. "When I think over it
properly," said he to himself, "I have even gained by the exchang=
e;
first there is the good roast-meat, then the quantity of fat which will drip
from it, and which will give me dripping for my bread for a quarter of a ye=
ar,
and lastly the beautiful white feathers; I will have my pillow stuffed with
them, and then indeed I shall go to sleep without rocking. How glad my moth=
er
will be!"
As he
was going through the last village, there stood a scissors-grinder with his
barrow; as his wheel whirred he sang---
"I sharpen scissors and quickly
grind, My coat blows out in t=
he
wind behind."
Hans
stood still and looked at him; at last he spoke to him and said, "All's
well with you, as you are so merry with your grinding." "Yes,&quo=
t; answered
the scissors-grinder, "the trade has a golden foundation. A real grind=
er
is a man who as often as he puts his hand into his pocket finds gold in it.=
But
where did you buy that fine goose?"
"I
did not buy it, but exchanged my pig for it."
"And
the pig?"
"That
I got for a cow."
"And
the cow?"
"I
took that instead of a horse."
"And
the horse?"
"For
that I gave a lump of gold as big as my head."
"And
the gold?"
"Well,
that was my wages for seven years' service."
"You
have known how to look after yourself each time," said the grinder.
"If you can only get on so far as to hear the money jingle in your poc=
ket
whenever you stand up, you will have made your fortune."
"How
shall I manage that?" said Hans. "You must be a grinder, as I am;=
nothing
particular is wanted for it but a grindstone, the rest finds itself. I have=
one
here; it is certainly a little worn, but you need not give me anything for =
it
but your goose; will you do it?"
"How
can you ask?" answered Hans. "I shall be the luckiest fellow on e=
arth;
if I have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket, what need I trouble ab=
out
any longer?" and he handed him the goose and received the grindstone in
exchange. "Now," said the grinder, as he took up an ordinary heavy
stone that lay by him, "here is a strong stone for you into the bargai=
n;
you can hammer well upon it, and straighten your old nails. Take it with you
and keep it carefully."
Hans
loaded himself with the stones, and went on with a contented heart; his eyes
shone with joy. "I must have been born with a caul," he cried; &q=
uot;everything
I want happens to me just as if I were a Sunday-child."
Meanwhile,
as he had been on his legs since daybreak, he began to feel tired. Hunger also tormented him, for in =
his
joy at the bargain by which he got the cow he had eaten up all his store of
food at once. At last he could only go on with great trouble, and was force=
d to
stop every minute; the stones, too, weighed him down dreadfully. Then he co=
uld
not help thinking how nice it would be if he had not to carry them just the=
n.
He
crept like a snail to a well in a field, and there he thought that he would
rest and refresh himself with a cool draught of water, but in order that he
might not injure the stones in sitting down, he laid them carefully by his =
side
on the edge of the well. Then he sat down on it, and was to stoop and drink,
when he made a slip, pushed against the stones, and both of them fell into =
the
water. When Hans saw them with his own eyes sinking to the bottom, he jumped
for joy, and then knelt down, and with tears in his eyes thanked God for ha=
ving
shown him this favour also, and delivered him in so good a way, and without=
his
having any need to reproach himself, from those heavy stones which had been=
the
only things that troubled him.
"There
is no man under the sun so fortunate as I," he cried out. With a light
heart and free from every burden he now ran on until he was with his mother=
at
home.
There
was once upon a time a young peasant named Hans, whose uncle wanted to find=
him
a rich wife. He therefore seated Hans behind the stove, and had it made very
hot. Then he fetched a pot of milk and plenty of white bread, gave him a br=
ight
newly-coined farthing in his hand, and said, "Hans, hold that farthing
fast, crumble the white bread into the milk, and stay where you are, and do=
not
stir from that spot till I come back." "Yes," said Hans, &qu=
ot;I
will do all that." Then the wooer put on a pair of old patched trouser=
s,
went to a rich peasant's daughter in the next village, and said, "Won't
you marry my nephew Hans---you will get an honest and sensible man who will
suit you?" The covetous father asked, "How is it with regard to h=
is
means? Has he bread to break?" "Dear friend," replied the wo=
oer,
"my young nephew has a snug berth, a nice bit of money in hand, and pl=
enty
of bread to break, besides he has quite as many patches as I have," (a=
nd
as he spoke, he slapped the patches on his trousers, but in that district s=
mall
pieces of land were called patches also.) "If you will give yourself t=
he
trouble to go home with me, you shall see at once that all is as I have
said." Then the miser did not want to lose this good opportunity, and
said, "If that is the case, I have nothing further to say against the
marriage."
So the
wedding was celebrated on the appointed day, and when the young wife went o=
ut
of doors to see the bridegroom's property, Hans took off his Sunday coat and
put on his patched smock-frock and said, "I might spoil my good
coat." Then together the=
y went
out and wherever a boundary line came in sight, or fields and meadows were
divided from each other, Hans pointed with his finger and then slapped eith=
er a
large or a small patch on his smock-frock, and said, "That patch is mi=
ne,
and that too, my dearest, just look at it," meaning thereby that his w=
ife
should not stare at the broad land, but look at his garment, which was his =
own.
"Were
you indeed at the wedding?" "Yes, indeed I was there, and in full
dress. My head-dress was of s=
now;
then the sun came out, and it was melted. My coat was of cobwebs, and I had=
to
pass by some thorns which tore it off me, my shoes were of glass, and I pus=
hed
against a stone and they said, "Klink," and broke in two.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>85 The Gold-Children<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
There
was once a poor man and a poor woman who had nothing but a little cottage, =
and
who earned their bread by fishing, and always lived from hand to mouth. But=
it
came to pass one day when the man was sitting by the water-side, and casting
his net, that he drew out a fish entirely of gold. As he was looking at the
fish, full of astonishment, it began to speak and said, "Hark you,
fisherman, if you will throw me back again into the water, I will change yo=
ur
little hut into a splendid castle." Then the fisherman answered, "=
;Of
what use is a castle to me, if I have nothing to eat?" The gold fish c=
ontinued,
"That shall be taken care of, there will be a cupboard in the castle in
which, when you open it, shall be dishes of the most delicate meats, and as
many of them as you can desire." "If that be true," said the
man, "then I can well do you a favour." "Yes," said the
fish, "there is, however, the condition that you shall disclose to no =
one
in the world, whosoever he may be, whence your good luck has come, if you s=
peak
but one single word, all will be over." Then the man threw the wonderf=
ul
fish back again into the water, and went home. But where his hovel had form=
erly
stood, now stood a great castle. He opened wide his eyes, entered, and saw =
his
wife dressed in beautiful clothes, sitting in a splendid room, and she was
quite delighted, and said, "Husband, how has all this come to pass? It
suits me very well." "Yes," said the man, "it suits me =
too,
but I am frightfully hungry, just give me something to eat." Said the =
wife,
"But I have got nothing and don't know where to find anything in this =
new
house." "There is no need of your knowing," said the man, &q=
uot;for
I see yonder a great cupboard, just unlock it." When she opened it, th=
ere
stood cakes, meat, fruit, wine, quite a bright prospect.
Then
the woman cried joyfully, "What more can you want, my dear?" and =
they
sat down, and ate and drank together. When they had had enough, the woman s=
aid,
"But husband, whence come all these riches?" "Alas," an=
swered
he, "do not question me about it, for I dare not tell you anything; if=
I
disclose it to any one, then all our good fortune will fly." "Very
good," said she, "if I am not to know anything, then I do not wan=
t to
know anything." However, she was not in earnest; she never rested day =
or
night, and she goaded her husband until in his impatience he revealed that =
all
was owing to a wonderful golden fish which he had caught, and to which in
return he had given its liberty. And as soon as the secret was out, the
splendid castle with the cupboard immediately disappeared, they were once m=
ore
in the old fisherman's hut, and the man was obliged to follow his former tr=
ade
and fish. But fortune would so have it, that he once more drew out the gold=
en
fish. "Listen," said the fish, "if you will throw me back in=
to
the water again, I will once more give you the castle with the cupboard ful=
l of
roast and boiled meats; only be firm, for your life's sake don't reveal from
whom you have it, or you will lose it all again!" "I will take go=
od
care," answered the fisherman, and threw the fish back into the water.=
Now
at home everything was once more in its former magnificence, and the wife w=
as
overjoyed at their good fortune, but curiosity left her no peace, so that a=
fter
a couple of days she began to ask again how it had come to pass, and how he=
had
managed to secure it. The man=
kept
silence for a short time, but at last she made him so angry that he broke o=
ut,
and betrayed the secret. In an instant the castle disappeared, and they were
back again in their old hut. "Now you have got what you want," sa=
id
he; "and we can gnaw at a bare bone again." "Ah," said =
the
woman, "I had rather not have riches if I am not to know from whom they
come, for then I have no peace."
The
man went back to fish, and after a while he chanced to draw out the gold fi=
sh
for a third time. "Listen," said the fish, "I see very well =
that
I am fated to fall into your hands, take me home and cut me into six pieces;
give your wife two of them to eat, two to your horse and bury two of them in
the ground, then they will bring you a blessing." The fisherman took t=
he
fish home with him, and did as it had bidden him. It came to pass, however,
that from the two pieces that were buried in the ground two golden lilies
sprang up, that the horse had two golden foals, and the fisherman's wife bo=
re
two children who were made entirely of gold. The children grew up, became t=
all
and handsome, and the lilies and horses grew likewise. Then they said,
"Father, we want to mount our golden steeds and travel out in the
world." But he answered sorrowfully, "How shall I bear it if you =
go
away, and I know not how it fares with you?" Then they said, "The=
two
golden lilies remain here. By them you can see how it is with us; if they a=
re
fresh, then we are in health; if they are withered, we are ill; if they per=
ish,
then we are dead." So they rode forth and came to an inn, in which were
many people, and when they perceived the gold-children they began to laugh,=
and
jeer. When one of them heard the mocking he felt ashamed and would not go o=
ut
into the world, but turned back and went home again to his father. But the
other rode forward and reached a great forest. As he was about to enter it,=
the
people said, It is not safe for you to ride through, the wood is full of
robbers who would treat you badly. You will fare ill, and when they see that
you are all of gold, and your horse likewise, they will assuredly kill you.=
'
But he
would not allow himself to be frightened, and said, "I must and will r=
ide
through it." Then he took bear-skins and covered himself and his horse
with them, so that the gold was no more to be seen, and rode fearlessly into
the forest. When he had ridden onward a little he heard a rustling in the
bushes, and heard voices speaking together. From one side came cries of,
"There is one," but from the other, "Let him go, 'tis an idle
fellow, as poor and bare as a church-mouse, what should we gain from him?&q=
uot;
So the
gold-child rode joyfully through the forest, and no evil befell him. One da=
y he
entered a village wherein he saw a maiden, who was so beautiful that he did=
not
believe that any more beautiful than she existed in the world. And as such a
mighty love took possession of him, he went up to her and said, "I love
thee with my whole heart, wilt thou be my wife?" He, too, pleased the
maiden so much that she agreed and said, "Yes, I will be thy wife, and=
be
true to thee my whole life long." Then they were married, and just as =
they
were in the greatest happiness, home came the father of the bride, and when=
he
saw that his daughter's wedding was being celebrated, he was astonished, and
said, "Where is the bridegroom?" They showed him the gold-child, =
who,
however, still wore his bear-skins. Then the father said wrathfully, "A
vagabond shall never have my daughter!" and was about to kill him. Then
the bride begged as hard as she could, and said, "He is my husband, an=
d I
love him with all my heart!" until at last he allowed himself to be
appeased. Nevertheless the idea never left his thoughts, so that next morni=
ng
he rose early, wishing to see whether his daughter's husband was a common
ragged beggar. But when he peeped in, he saw a magnificent golden man in the
bed, and the cast-off bear-skins lying on the ground. Then he went back and
thought, "What a good thing it was that I restrained my anger! I should
have committed a great crime." But the gold-child dreamed that he rode=
out
to hunt a splendid stag, and when he awoke in the morning, he said to his w=
ife,
"I must go out hunting." She was uneasy, and begged him to stay
there, and said, "You might easily meet with a great misfortune,"=
but
he answered, "I must and will go."
Thereupon
he got up, and rode forth into the forest, and it was not long before a fine
stag crossed his path exactly according to his dream. He aimed and was abou=
t to
shoot it, when the stag ran away. He gave chase over hedges and ditches for=
the
whole day without feeling tired, but in the evening the stag vanished from =
his
sight, and when the gold-child looked round him, he was standing before a
little house, wherein was a witch. He knocked, and a little old woman came =
out
and asked, "What are you doing so late in the midst of the great
forest?" "Have you not seen a stag?" "Yes," answer=
ed
she, "I know the stag well," and thereupon a little dog which had
come out of the house with her, barked at the man violently. "Wilt tho=
u be
silent, thou odious toad," said he, "or I will shoot thee dead.&q=
uot;
Then the witch cried out in a passion, "What! will you slay my little
dog?" and immediately transformed him, so that he lay like a stone, and
his bride awaited him in vain and thought, "That which I so greatly
dreaded, which lay so heavily on my heart, has come upon him!" But at =
home
the other brother was standing by the gold-lilies, when one of them suddenly
drooped. "Good heavens!&=
quot;
said he, "my brother has met with some great misfortune! I must away to
see if I can possibly rescue him." Then the father said, "Stay he=
re,
if I lose you also, what shall I do?" But he answered, "I must and
will go forth!"
Then
he mounted his golden horse, and rode forth and entered the great forest, w=
here
his brother lay turned to stone. The old witch came out of her house and ca=
lled
him, wishing to entrap him also, but he did not go near her, and said, &quo=
t;I
will shoot you, if you will not bring my brother to life again." She
touched the stone, though very unwillingly, with her forefinger, and he was
immediately restored to his human shape. But the two gold-children rejoiced
when they saw each other again, kissed and caressed each other, and rode aw=
ay
together out of the forest, the one home to his bride, and the other to his
father. The father then said, "I knew well that you had rescued your
brother, for the golden lily suddenly rose up and blossomed out again."
Then they lived happily, and all prospered with them until their death.
The
fox once came to a meadow in which was a flock of fine fat geese, on which =
he
smiled and said, "I come in the nick of time, you are sitting together
quite beautifully, so that I can eat you up one after the other." The
geese cackled with terror, sprang up, and began to wail and beg piteously f=
or
their lives. But the fox would listen to nothing, and said, "There is =
no
mercy to be had! You must die."
At length one of them took heart and said, "If we poor geese ar=
e to
yield up our vigorous young lives, show us the only possible favour and all=
ow
us one more prayer, that we may not die in our sins, and then we will place
ourselves in a row, so that you can always pick yourself out the fattest.&q=
uot;
"Yes," said the fox, "that is reasonable, and a pious reques=
t.
Pray away, I will wait till you are done." Then the first began a good long p=
rayer,
for ever saying, "Ga! Ga!" and as she would make no end, the seco=
nd
did not wait until her turn came, but began also, "Ga! Ga!" The t=
hird
and fourth followed her, and soon they were all cackling together.
When
they have done praying, the story shall be continued further, but at present
they are still praying without stopping."
In
olden times, when the Lord himself still used to walk about on this earth
amongst men, it once happened that he was tired and overtaken by the darkne=
ss
before he could reach an inn. Now there stood on the road before him two ho=
uses
facing each other; the one large and beautiful, the other small and poor. T=
he
large one belonged to a rich man, and the small one to a poor man.
Then
the Lord thought, "I shall be no burden to the rich man, I will stay t=
he
night with him." When the rich man heard some one knocking at his door=
, he
opened the window and asked the stranger what he wanted. The Lord answered,
"I only ask for a night's lodging."
Then
the rich man looked at the traveler from head to foot, and as the Lord was
wearing common clothes, and did not look like one who had much money in his
pocket, he shook his head, and said, "No, I cannot take you in, my roo=
ms
are full of herbs and seeds; and if I were to lodge everyone who knocked at=
my
door, I might very soon go begging myself. Go somewhere else for a
lodging," and with this he shut down the window and left the Lord stan=
ding
there.
So the
Lord turned his back on the rich man, and went across to the small house and
knocked. He had hardly done so when the poor man opened the little door and
bade the traveler come in. "Pass the night with me, it is already
dark," said he; "you cannot go any further to-night." This p=
leased
the Lord, and he went in. The poor man's wife shook hands with him, and
welcomed him, and said he was to make himself at home and put up with what =
they
had got; they had not much to offer him, but what they had they would give =
him
with all their hearts. Then she put the potatoes on the fire, and while they
were boiling, she milked the goat, that they might have a little milk with
them. When the cloth was laid, the Lord sat down with the man and his wife,=
and
he enjoyed their coarse food, for there were happy faces at the table. When
they had had supper and it was bed-time, the woman called her husband apart=
and
said, "Hark you, dear husband, let us make up a bed of straw for ourse=
lves
to-night, and then the poor traveler can sleep in our bed and have a good r=
est,
for he has been walking the whole day through, and that makes one weary.&qu=
ot;
"With all my heart," he answered, "I will go and offer it to
him;" and he went to the stranger and invited him, if he had no object=
ion,
to sleep in their bed and rest his limbs properly. But the Lord was unwilli=
ng to
take their bed from the two old folks; however, they would not be satisfied,
until at length he did it and lay down in their bed, while they themselves =
lay
on some straw on the ground.
Next
morning they got up before daybreak, and made as good a breakfast as they c=
ould
for the guest. When the sun shone in through the little window, and the Lord
had got up, he again ate with them, and then prepared to set out on his
journey.
But as
he was standing at the door he turned round and said, "As you are so k=
ind
and good, you may wish three things for yourselves and I will grant
them." Then the man said,
"What else should I wish for but eternal happiness, and that we two, as
long as we live, may be healthy and have every day our daily bread; for the
third wish, I do not know what to have." And the Lord said to him,
"Will you wish for a new house instead of this old one?" "Oh,
yes," said the man; "if I can have that, too, I should like it ve=
ry
much." And the Lord fulfilled his wish, and changed their old house in=
to a
new one, again gave them his blessing, and went on.
The
sun was high when the rich man got up and leaned out of his window and saw,=
on
the opposite side of the way, a new clean-looking house with red tiles and
bright windows where the old hut used to be. He was very much astonished, a=
nd
called his wife and said to her, "Tell me, what can have happened? Last
night there was a miserable little hut standing there, and to-day there is a
beautiful new house. Run over and see how that has come to pass."
So his
wife went and asked the poor man, and he said to her, "Yesterday eveni=
ng a
traveler came here and asked for a night's lodging, and this morning when he
took leave of us he granted us three wishes---eternal happiness, health dur=
ing
this life and our daily bread as well, and besides this, a beautiful new ho=
use
instead of our old hut."
When
the rich man's wife heard this, she ran back in haste and told her husband =
how
it had happened. The man said, "I could tear myself to pieces! If I had
but known that! That traveler came to our house too, and wanted to sleep he=
re,
and I sent him away." "Quick!" said his wife, "get on y=
our
horse. You can still catch the man up, and then you must ask to have three
wishes granted to you."
The
rich man followed the good counsel and galloped away on his horse, and soon
came up with the Lord. He spoke to him softly and pleasantly, and begged him
not to take it amiss that he had not let him in directly; he was looking for
the front-door key, and in the meantime the stranger had gone away, if he
returned the same way he must come and stay with him. "Yes," said=
the
Lord; "if I ever come back again, I will do so." Then the rich man
asked if might not wish for three things too, as his neighbor had done?
"Yes," said the Lord, he might, but it would not be to his advant=
age,
and he had better not wish for anything; but the rich man thought that he c=
ould
easily ask for something which would add to his happiness, if he only knew =
that
it would be granted. So the Lord said to him, "Ride home, then, and th=
ree
wishes which you shall form, shall be fulfilled."
The
rich man had now gained what he wanted, so he rode home, and began to consi=
der
what he should wish for. As he was thus thinking he let the bridle fall, and
the horse began to caper about, so that he was continually disturbed in his
meditations, and could not collect his thoughts at all. He patted its neck,=
and
said, "Gently, Lisa," but the horse only began new tricks. Then at
last he was angry, and cried quite impatiently, "I wish your neck was
broken!" Directly he had said the words, down the horse fell on the
ground, and there it lay dead and never moved again. And thus was his first
wish fulfilled. As he was miserly by nature, he did not like to leave the
harness lying there; so he cut it off, and put it on his back; and now he h=
ad
to go on foot. "I have still two wishes left," said he, and comfo=
rted
himself with that thought.
And
now as he was walking slowly through the sand, and the sun was burning hot =
at
noon-day, he grew quite hot-tempered and angry. The saddle hurt his back, a=
nd
he had not yet any idea what to wish for. "If I were to wish for all t=
he
riches and treasures in the world," said he to himself, "I should
still to think of all kinds of other things later on, I know that, beforeha=
nd.
But I will manage so that there is nothing at all left me to wish for
afterwards." Then he sighed and said, "Ah, if I were but that
Bavarian peasant, who likewise had three wishes granted to him, and knew qu=
ite
well what to do, and in the first place wished for a great deal of beer, an=
d in
the second for as much beer as he was able to drink, and in the third for a
barrel of beer into the bargain."
Many a
time he thought he had found it, but then it seemed to him to be, after all,
too little. Then it came into his mind, what an easy life his wife had, for=
she
stayed at home in a cool room and enjoyed herself. This really did vex him,=
and
before he was aware, he said, "I just wish she was sitting there on th=
is
saddle, and could not get off it, instead of my having to drag it along on =
my
back." And as the last word was spoken, the saddle disappeared from his
back, and he saw that his second wish had been fulfilled. Then he really did
feel warm. He began to run and wanted to be quite alone in his own room at
home, to think of something really large for his last wish. But when he arr=
ived
there and opened the parlour-door, he saw his wife sitting in the middle of=
the
room on the saddle, crying and complaining, and quite unable to get off it.=
So
he said, "Do bear it, and I will wish for all the riches on earth for
thee, only stay where thou art." She, however, called him a fool, and
said, "What good will all the riches on earth do me, if I am to sit on
this saddle? Thou hast wished me on it, so thou must help me off." So
whether he would or not, he was forced to let his third wish be that she sh=
ould
be quit of the saddle, and able to get off it, and immediately the wish was
fulfilled. So he got nothing by it but vexation, trouble, abuse, and the lo=
ss
of his horse; but the poor people lived happily, quietly, and piously until
their happy death.
There
was once on a time a man who was about to set out on a long journey, and on
parting he asked his three daughters what he should bring back with him for
them. Whereupon the eldest wished for pearls, the second wished for diamond=
s,
but the third said, "Dear father, I should like a singing, soaring lar=
k." The father said, "Yes, if I c=
an get
it, you shall have it," kissed all three, and set out. Now when the ti=
me
had come for him to be on his way home again, he had brought pearls and
diamonds for the two eldest, but he had sought everywhere in vain for a
singing, soaring lark for the youngest, and he was very unhappy about it, f=
or
she was his favorite child. Then his road lay through a forest, and in the
midst of it was a splendid castle, and near the castle stood a tree, but qu=
ite on
the top of the tree, he saw a singing, soaring lark. "Aha, you come ju=
st
at the right moment!" he said, quite delighted, and called to his serv=
ant
to climb up and catch the little creature. But as he approached the tree, a
lion leapt from beneath it, shook himself, and roared till the leaves on the
trees trembled. "He who tries to steal my singing, soaring lark,"=
he
cried, "will I devour." Then the man said, "I did not know t=
hat
the bird belonged to thee. I will make amends for the wrong I have done and
ransom myself with a large sum of money, only spare my life." The lion
said, "Nothing can save thee, unless thou wilt promise to give me for =
mine
own what first meets thee on thy return home; and if thou wilt do that, I w=
ill
grant thee thy life, and thou shalt have the bird for thy daughter, into the
bargain." But the man
hesitated and said, "That might be my youngest daughter, she loves me
best, and always runs to meet me on my return home." The servant, howe=
ver,
was terrified and said, "Why should your daughter be the very one to m=
eet
you, it might as easily be a cat, or dog?" Then the man allowed himsel=
f to
be over-persuaded, took the singing, soaring lark, and promised to give the
lion whatsoever should first meet him on his return home.
When
he reached home and entered his house, the first who met him was no other t=
han
his youngest and dearest daughter, who came running up, kissed and embraced
him, and when she saw that he had brought with him a singing, soaring lark,=
she
was beside herself with joy. The father, however, could not rejoice, but be=
gan
to weep, and said, "My dearest child, I have bought the little bird de=
ar.
In return for it, I have been obliged to promise thee to a savage lion, and
when he has thee he will tear thee in pieces and devour thee," and he =
told
her all, just as it had happened, and begged her not to go there, come what
might. But she consoled him and said, "Dearest father, indeed your pro=
mise
must be fulfilled. I will go thither and soften the lion, so that I may ret=
urn to
thee safely." Next morning she had the road pointed out to her, took l=
eave,
and went fearlessly out into the forest. The lion, however, was an enchanted
prince and was by day a lion, and all his people were lions with him, but in
the night they resumed their natural human shapes. On her arrival she was
kindly received and led into the castle. When night came, the lion turned i=
nto
a handsome man, and their wedding was celebrated with great magnificence. T=
hey
lived happily together, remained awake at night, and slept in the daytime. =
One
day he came and said, "To-morrow there is a feast in thy father's hous=
e,
because your eldest sister is to be married, and if thou art inclined to go
there, my lions shall conduct thee." She said, "Yes, I should very
much like to see my father again," and went thither, accompanied by the
lions. There was great joy when she arrived, for they had all believed that=
she
had been torn in pieces by the lion, and had long ceased to live. But she told them what a handsome
husband she had, and how well off she was, remained with them while the
wedding-feast lasted, and then went back again to the forest. When the seco=
nd
daughter was about to be married, and she was again invited to the wedding,=
she
said to the lion, "This time I will not be alone, thou must come with
me." The lion, however, said that it was too dangerous for him, for if
when there a ray from a burning candle fell on him, he would be changed int=
o a
dove, and for seven years long would have to fly about with the doves. She
said, "Ah, but do come with me, I will take great care of thee, and gu=
ard
thee from all light." So they went away together, and took with them t=
heir
little child as well. She had a chamber built there, so strong and thick th=
at
no ray could pierce through it; in this he was to shut himself up when the =
candles
were lit for the wedding-feast. But the door was made of green wood which
warped and left a little crack which no one noticed. The wedding was celebr=
ated
with magnificence, but when the procession with all its candles and torches
came back from church, and passed by this apartment, a ray about the breadt=
h of
a hair fell on the King's son, and when this ray touched him, he was
transformed in an instant, and when she came in and looked for him, she did=
not
see him, but a white dove was sitting there. The dove said to her, "For
seven years must I fly about the world, but at every seventh step that you =
take
I will let fall a drop of red blood and a white feather, and these will show
thee the way, and if thou followest the trace thou canst release me."
Thereupon the dove flew out at the door, and she followed him, and at every
seventh step a red drop of blood and a little white feather fell down and
showed her the way.
So she went continually further and further in the wide world, never looking about= her or resting, and the seven years were almost past; then she rejoiced and tho= ught that they would soon be delivered, and yet they were so far from it! Once when they were thus moving on= wards, no little feather and no drop of red blood fell, and when she raised her ey= es the dove had disappeared. And as she thought to herself, "In this no m= an can help thee," she climbed up to the sun, and said to him, "Thou shinest into every crevice, and over every peak, hast thou not seen a white dove flying?" "No," said the sun, "I have seen none, bu= t I present thee with a casket, open it when thou art in sorest need." Then she thanked the sun, and went on until evening came and the moon appeared; = she then asked her, "Thou shinest the whole night through, and on every fi= eld and forest, hast thou not seen a white dove flying?" "No," s= aid the moon, "I have seen no dove, but here I give thee an egg, break it = when thou art in great need." She thanked the moon, and went on until the n= ight wind came up and blew on her, then she said to it, "Thou blowest over every tree and under every leaf, hast thou not seen a white dove flying?&qu= ot; "No," said the night wind, "I have seen none, but I will ask= the three other winds, perhaps they have seen it." The east wind and the w= est wind came, and had seen nothing, but the south wind said, "I have seen= the white dove, it has flown to the Red Sea, where it has become a lion again, = for the seven years are over, and the lion is there fighting with a dragon; the dragon, however, is an enchanted princess." The night wind then said to her, "I will advise thee; go to the Red Sea, on the right bank are some tall reeds, count them, break off the eleventh, and strike the dragon with = it, then the lion will be able to subdue it, and both then will regain their hu= man form. After that, look round and thou wilt see the griffin which is by the = Red Sea; swing thyself, with thy beloved, on to his back, and the bird will car= ry you over the sea to your own home. Here is a nut for thee, when thou are ab= ove the center of the sea, let the nut fall, it will immediately shoot up, and a tall nut-tree will grow out of the water on which the griffin may rest; for= if he cannot rest, he will not be strong enough to carry you across, and if th= ou forgettest to throw down the nut, he will let you fall into the sea."<= o:p>
Then
she went thither, and found everything as the night wind had said. She coun=
ted
the reeds by the sea, and cut off the eleventh, struck the dragon therewith,
whereupon the lion overcame it, and immediately both of them regained their
human shapes. But when the princess, who had before been the dragon, was
delivered from enchantment, she took the youth by the arm, seated herself on
the griffin, and carried him off with her. There stood the poor maiden who =
had
wandered so far and was again forsaken. She sat down and cried, but at last=
she
took courage and said, "Still I will go as far as the wind blows and as
long as the cock crows, until I find him," and she went forth by long,
long roads, until at last she came to the castle where both of them were li=
ving
together; there she heard that soon a feast was to be held, in which they w=
ould
celebrate their wedding, but she said, "God still helps me," and
opened the casket that the sun had given her. A dress lay therein as brilli=
ant as
the sun itself. So she took it out and put it on, and went up into the cast=
le,
and everyone, even the bride herself, looked at her with astonishment. The
dress pleased the bride so well that she thought it might do for her weddin=
g-dress,
and asked if it was for sale? "Not for money or land," answered s=
he,
"but for flesh and blood." The bride asked her what she meant by
that, so she said, "Let me sleep a night in the chamber where the
bridegroom sleeps." The bride would not, yet wanted very much to have =
the
dress; at last she consented, but the page was to give the prince a
sleeping-draught. When it was night, therefore, and the youth was already
asleep, she was led into the chamber; she seated herself on the bed and sai=
d,
"I have followed after thee for seven years. I have been to the sun and
the moon, and the four winds, and have enquired for thee, and have helped t=
hee
against the dragon; wilt thou, then quite forget me?" But the prince s=
lept
so soundly that it only seemed to him as if the wind were whistling outside=
in
the fir-trees. When therefore day broke, she was led out again, and had to =
give
up the golden dress. And as t=
hat
even had been of no avail, she was sad, went out into a meadow, sat down th=
ere,
and wept. While she was sitting there, she thought of the egg which the moon
had given her; she opened it, and there came out a clucking hen with twelve
chickens all of gold, and they ran about chirping, and crept again under the
old hen's wings; nothing more beautiful was ever seen in the world! Then she
arose, and drove them through the meadow before her, until the bride looked=
out
of the window. The little chickens pleased her so much that she immediately
came down and asked if they were for sale. "Not for money or land, but=
for
flesh and blood; let me sleep another night in the chamber where the brideg=
room
sleeps." The bride said, "Yes," intending to cheat her as on=
the
former evening. But when the =
prince
went to bed he asked the page what the murmuring and rustling in the night =
had
been? On this the page told all; that he had been forced to give him a
sleeping-draught, because a poor girl had slept secretly in the chamber, and
that he was to give him another that night. The prince said, "Pour out=
the
draught by the bed-side." At night, she was again led in, and when she
began to relate how ill all had fared with her, he immediately recognized h=
is
beloved wife by her voice, sprang up and cried, "Now I really am relea=
sed!
I have been as it were in a dream, for the strange princess has bewitched m=
e so
that I have been compelled to forget thee, but God has delivered me from the
spell at the right time." Then they both left the castle secretly in t=
he
night, for they feared the father of the princess, who was a sorcerer, and =
they
seated themselves on the griffin which bore them across the Red Sea, and wh=
en they
were in the midst of it, she let fall the nut. Immediately a tall nut-tree =
grew
up, whereon the bird rested, and then carried them home, where they found t=
heir
child, who had grown tall and beautiful, and they lived thenceforth happily
until their death.
THERE
was once upon a time an old Queen whose husband had been dead for many year=
s,
and she had a beautiful daughter. When the princess grew up she was betroth=
ed
to a prince who lived at a great distance. When the time came for her to be
married, and she had to journey forth into the distant kingdom, the aged Qu=
een
packed up for her many costly vessels of silver and gold, and trinkets also=
of
gold and silver; and cups and jewels, in short, everything which appertaine=
d to
a royal dowry, for she loved her child with all her heart. She likewise sent
her maid in waiting, who was to ride with her, and hand her over to the
bridegroom, and each had a horse for the journey, but the horse of the King=
's
daughter was called Falada, and could speak. So when the hour of parting had
come, the aged mother went into her bedroom, took a small knife and cut her
finger with it until it bled, then she held a white handkerchief to it into
which she let three drops of blood fall, gave it to her daughter and said,
"Dear child, preserve this carefully, it will be of service to you on =
your
way."
So
they took a sorrowful leave of each other; the princess put the piece of cl=
oth
in her bosom, mounted her horse, and then went away to her bridegroom. After
she had ridden for a while she felt a burning thirst, and said to her
waiting-maid, "Dismount, and take my cup which thou hast brought with =
thee
for me, and get me some water from the stream, for I should like to
drink." "If you are thirsty," said the waiting-maid, "g=
et
off your horse yourself, and lie down and drink out of the water, I don't
choose to be your servant." So in her great thirst the princess alight=
ed,
bent down over the water in the stream and drank, and was not allowed to dr=
ink
out of the golden cup. Then she said, "Ah, Heaven!" and the three
drops of blood answered, "If thy mother knew, her heart would break.&q=
uot; But the King's daughter was humble=
, said
nothing, and mounted her horse again.
She rode some miles further, but the day was warm, the sun scorched =
her,
and she was thirsty once more, and when they came to a stream of water, she
again cried to her waiting-maid, "Dismount, and give me some water in =
my
golden cup," for she had long ago forgotten the girl's ill words. But =
the
waiting-maid said still more haughtily, "If you wish to drink, drink as
you can, I don't choose to be your maid." Then in her great thirst the
King's daughter alighted, bent over the flowing stream, wept and said,
"Ah, Heaven!" and the drops of blood again replied, "If thy
mother knew this, her heart would break." And as she was thus drinking=
and
leaning right over the stream, the handkerchief with the three drops of blo=
od
fell out of her bosom, and floated away with the water without her observing
it, so great was her trouble. The waiting-maid, however, had seen it, and s=
he
rejoiced to think that she had now power over the bride, for since the prin=
cess
had lost the drops of blood, she had become weak and powerless. So now when=
she
wanted to mount her horse again, the one that was called Falada, the
waiting-maid said, "Falada is more suitable for me, and my nag will do=
for
thee" and the princess had to be content with that. Then the waiting-m=
aid,
with many hard words, bade the princess exchange her royal apparel for her =
own
shabby clothes; and at length she was compelled to swear by the clear sky a=
bove
her, that she would not say one word of this to any one at the royal court,=
and
if she had not taken this oath she would have been killed on the spot. But
Falada saw all this, and observed it well.
The
waiting-maid now mounted Falada, and the true bride the bad horse, and thus
they traveled onwards, until at length they entered the royal palace. There
were great rejoicings over her arrival, and the prince sprang forward to me=
et
her, lifted the waiting-maid from her horse, and thought she was his consor=
t.
She was conducted upstairs, but the real princess was left standing below. =
Then
the old King looked out of the window and saw her standing in the courtyard,
and how dainty and delicate and beautiful she was, and instantly went to the
royal apartment, and asked the bride about the girl she had with her who was
standing down below in the courtyard, and who she was? "I picked her u=
p on
my way for a companion; give the girl something to work at, that she may not
stand idle." But the old King had no work for her, and knew of none, s=
o he
said, "I have a little boy who tends the geese, she may help him."
The boy was called Conrad, and the true bride had to help him to tend the
geese. Soon afterwards the false bride said to the young King, "Dearest
husband, I beg you to do me a favour." He answered, "I will do so
most willingly." "Then send for the knacker, and have the head of=
the
horse on which I rode here cut off, for it vexed me on the way." In
reality, she was afraid that the horse might tell how she had behaved to the
King's daughter. Then she succeeded in making the King promise that it shou=
ld
be done, and the faithful Falada was to die; this came to the ears of the r=
eal
princess, and she secretly promised to pay the knacker a piece of gold if he
would perform a small service for her. There was a great dark-looking gatew=
ay
in the town, through which morning and evening she had to pass with the gee=
se:
would he be so good as to nail up Falada's head on it, so that she might see
him again, more than once. The knacker's man promised to do that, and cut o=
ff
the head, and nailed it fast beneath the dark gateway.
Early
in the morning, when she and Conrad drove out their flock beneath this gate=
way,
she said in passing,
"Alas, Falada, hanging there!&=
quot;
Then
the head answered,
"Alas, young Queen, how ill you
fare! If this your tender mot=
her
knew, Her heart would surely =
break
in two."
Then
they went still further out of the town, and drove their geese into the
country. And when they had come to the meadow, she sat down and unbound her
hair which was like pure gold, and Conrad saw it and delighted in its
brightness, and wanted to pluck out a few hairs. Then she said,
"Blow, blow, thou gentle wind,=
I
say, Blow Conrad's little hat=
away,
And make him chase it here and
there, Until I have braided a=
ll my
hair, And bound it up again.&=
quot;
And
there came such a violent wind that it blew Conrad's hat far away across
country, and he was forced to run after it. When he came back she had finis=
hed
combing her hair and was putting it up again, and he could not get any of i=
t.
Then Conrad was angry, and would not speak to her, and thus they watched the
geese until the evening, and then they went home.
Next
day when they were driving the geese out through the dark gateway, the maid=
en
said,
"Alas, Falada, hanging there!&=
quot;
Falada
answered,
"Alas, young Queen, how ill you
fare! If this your tender mot=
her
knew, Her heart would surely =
break
in two."
And
she sat down again in the field and began to comb out her hair, and Conrad =
ran
and tried to clutch it, so she said in haste,
"Blow, blow, thou gentle wind,=
I
say, Blow Conrad's little hat=
away,
And make him chase it here and
there, Until I have braided a=
ll my
hair, And bound it up again.&=
quot;
Then
the wind blew, and blew his little hat off his head and far away, and Conrad
was forced to run after it, and when he came back, her hair had been put up=
a
long time, and he could get none of it, and so they looked after their geese
till evening came.
But in
the evening after they had got home, Conrad went to the old King, and said,
"I won't tend the geese with that girl any longer!" "Why not=
?"
inquired the aged King. "Oh, because she vexes me the whole day long.&=
quot;
Then the aged King commanded him to relate what it was that she did to him.=
And
Conrad said, "In the morning when we pass beneath the dark gateway with
the flock, there is a sorry horse's head on the wall, and she says to it,
"Alas, Falada, hanging there!&=
quot;
And
the head replies,
"Alas, young Queen how ill you=
fare!
If this your tender mother kn=
ew, Her heart would surely break in
two."
And
Conrad went on to relate what happened on the goose pasture, and how when t=
here
he had to chase his hat.
The
aged King commanded him to drive his flock out again next day, and as soon =
as
morning came, he placed himself behind the dark gateway, and heard how the
maiden spoke to the head of Falada, and then he too went into the country, =
and
hid himself in the thicket in the meadow. There he soon saw with his own ey=
es
the goose-girl and the goose-boy bringing their flock, and how after a while
she sat down and unplaited her hair, which shone with radiance. And soon she
said,
"Blow, blow, thou gentle wind,=
I
say, Blow Conrad's little hat=
away,
And make him chase it here and
there, Until I have braided a=
ll my
hair, And bound it up again.&=
quot;
Then
came a blast of wind and carried off Conrad's hat, so that he had to run far
away, while the maiden quietly went on combing and plaiting her hair, all of
which the King observed. Then, quite unseen, he went away, and when the
goose-girl came home in the evening, he called her aside, and asked why she=
did
all these things. "I may not tell you that, and I dare not lament my
sorrows to any human being, for I have sworn not to do so by the heaven whi=
ch
is above me; if I had not done that, I should have lost my life." He u=
rged
her and left her no peace, but he could draw nothing from her. Then said he,
"If thou wilt not tell me anything, tell thy sorrows to the iron-stove
there," and he went away. Then she crept into the iron-stove, and bega=
n to
weep and lament, and emptied her whole heart, and said, "Here am I
deserted by the whole world, and yet I am a King's daughter, and a false
waiting-maid has by force brought me to such a pass that I have been compel=
led
to put off my royal apparel, and she has taken my place with my bridegroom,=
and
I have to perform menial service as a goose-girl. If my mother did but know
that, her heart would break."
The
aged King, however, was standing outside by the pipe of the stove, and was
listening to what she said, and heard it. Then he came back again, and bade=
her
come out of the stove. And royal garments were placed on her, and it was
marvellous how beautiful she was! The aged King summoned his son, and revea=
led
to him that he had got the false bride who was only a waiting-maid, but that
the true one was standing there, as the sometime goose-girl. The young King
rejoiced with all his heart when he saw her beauty and youth, and a great f=
east
was made ready to which all the people and all good friends were invited. At
the head of the table sat the bridegroom with the King's daughter at one si=
de
of him, and the waiting-maid on the other, but the waiting-maid was blinded=
, and
did not recognize the princess in her dazzling array. When they had eaten a=
nd
drunk, and were merry, the aged King asked the waiting-maid as a riddle, wh=
at a
person deserved who had behaved in such and such a way to her master, and at
the same time related the whole story, and asked what sentence such an one
merited? Then the false bride said, "She deserves no better fate than =
to
be stripped entirely naked, and put in a barrel which is studded inside with
pointed nails, and two white horses should be harnessed to it, which will d=
rag
her along through one street after another, till she is dead." "I=
t is
thou," said the aged King, "and thou hast pronounced thine own
sentence, and thus shall it be done unto thee." And when the sentence =
had
been carried out, the young King married his true bride, and both of them
reigned over their kingdom in peace and happiness.
Once
on a time a countryman had a son who was as big as a thumb, and did not bec=
ome
any bigger, and during several years did not grow one hair's breadth. Once when the father was going out=
to
plough, the little one said, "Father, I will go out with you."
"Thou wouldst go out with me?" said the father. "Stay here, =
thou
wilt be of no use out there, besides thou mightest get lost!" Then
Thumbling began to cry, and for the sake of peace his father put him in his
pocket, and took him with him. When he was outside in the field, he took him
out again, and set him in a freshly-cut furrow. Whilst he was there, a great
giant came over the hill. &qu=
ot;Do
thou see that great bogie?" said the father, for he wanted to frighten=
the
little fellow to make him good; "he is coming to fetch thee." The
giant, however, had scarcely taken two steps with his long legs before he w=
as
in the furrow. He took up little Thumbling carefully with two fingers, exam=
ined
him, and without saying one word went away with him. His father stood by, b=
ut
could not utter a sound for terror, and he thought nothing else but that his
child was lost, and that as long as he lived he should never set eyes on him
again.
The
giant, however, carried him home, suckled him, and Thumbling grew and became
tall and strong after the manner of giants. When two years had passed, the =
old
giant took him into the forest, wanted to try him, and said, "Pull up a
stick for thyself." Then the boy was already so strong that he tore up=
a
young tree out of the earth by the roots. But the giant thought, "We m=
ust
do better than that," took him back again, and suckled him two years
longer. When he tried him, his strength had increased so much that he could
tear an old tree out of the ground. That was still not enough for the giant=
; he
again suckled him for two years, and when he then went with him into the fo=
rest
and said, "Now just tear up a proper stick for me," the boy tore =
up
the strongest oak-tree from the earth, so that it split, and that was a mere
trifle to him. "Now that will do," said the giant, "thou art
perfect," and took him back to the field from whence he had brought hi=
m.
His father was there following the plough. The young giant went up to him, =
and
said, "Does my father see what a fine man his son has grown into?"=
;
The
farmer was alarmed, and said, "No, thou art not my son; I don't want t=
hee
leave me!" "Truly I am your son; allow me to do your work, I can
plough as well as you, nay better." "No, no, thou art not my son;=
and
thou canst not plough go away!" However, as he was afraid of this great
man, he left go of the plough, stepped back and stood at one side of the pi=
ece
of land. Then the youth took the plough, and just pressed it with one hand,=
but
his grasp was so strong that the plough went deep into the earth. The farmer
could not bear to see that, and called to him, "If thou art determined=
to
plough, thou must not press so hard on it, that makes bad work." The
youth, however, unharnessed the horses, and drew the plough himself, saying,
"Just go home, father, and bid my mother make ready a large dish of fo=
od,
and in the meantime I will go over the field." Then the farmer went ho=
me,
and ordered his wife to prepare the food; but the youth ploughed the field
which was two acres large, quite alone, and then he harnessed himself to the
harrow, and harrowed the whole of the land, using two harrows at once. When=
he
had done it, he went into the forest, and pulled up two oak-trees, laid the=
m across
his shoulders, and hung on them one harrow behind and one before, and also =
one
horse behind and one before, and carried all as if it had been a bundle of
straw, to his parents' house. When he entered the yard, his mother did not
recognize him, and asked, "Who is that horrible tall man?" The fa=
rmer
said, "That is our son." She said, "No that cannot be our so=
n,
we never had such a tall one, ours was a little thing." She called to =
him,
"Go away, we do not want thee!" The youth was silent, but led his
horses to the stable, gave them some oats and hay, and all that they wanted.
When he had done this, he went into the parlour, sat down on the bench and
said, "Mother, now I should like something to eat, will it soon be
ready?" Then she said, "Yes," and brought in two immense dis=
hes
full of food, which would have been enough to satisfy herself and her husba=
nd
for a week. The youth, however, ate the whole of it himself, and asked if s=
he
had nothing more to set before him. "No," she replied, "that=
is
all we have." "But that was only a taste, I must have more."=
She
did not dare to oppose him, and went and put a huge caldron full of food on=
the
fire, and when it was ready, carried it in. "At length come a few crum=
bs,"
said he, and ate all there was, but it was still not sufficient to appease =
his
hunger. Then said he, "Father, I see well that with you I shall never =
have
food enough; if you will get me an iron staff which is strong, and which I
cannot break against my knees, I will go out into the world." The farm=
er
was glad, put his two horses in his cart, and fetched from the smith a staf=
f so
large and thick, that the two horses could only just bring it away. The you=
th
laid it across his knees, and snap! he broke it in two in the middle like a
bean-stalk, and threw it away. The father then harnessed four horses, and
brought a bar which was so long and thick, that the four horses could only =
just
drag it. The son snapped this also in twain against his knees, threw it awa=
y,
and said, "Father, this can be of no use to me, you must harness more
horses, and bring a stronger staff." So the father harnessed eight hor=
ses,
and brought one which was so long and thick, that the eight horses could on=
ly just
carry it. When the son took it in his hand, he broke off a bit from the top=
of
it also, and said, "Father, I see that you will not be able to procure=
me
any such staff as I want, I will remain no longer with you."
So he
went away, and gave out that he was a smith's apprentice. He arrived at a
village, wherein lived a smith who was a greedy fellow, who never did a
kindness to any one, but wanted everything for himself. The youth went into=
the
smithy and asked if he needed a journeyman. "Yes," said the smith,
and looked at him, and thought, "That is a strong fellow who will stri=
ke
out well, and earn his bread."
So he asked, "How much wages dost thou want?" "I don't
want any at all," he replied, "only every fortnight, when the oth=
er
journeymen are paid, I will give thee two blows, and thou must bear them.&q=
uot;
The miser was heartily satisfied, and thought he would thus save much money.
Next morning, the strange journeyman was to begin to work, but when the mas=
ter
brought the glowing bar, and the youth struck his first blow, the iron flew
asunder, and the anvil sank so deep into the earth, that there was no bring=
ing
it out again. Then the miser grew angry, and said, "Oh, but I can't ma=
ke
any use of you, you strike far too powerfully; what will you have for the o=
ne
blow?"
Then
said he, "I will only give you quite a small blow, that's all." A=
nd he
raised his foot, and gave him such a kick that he flew away over four loads=
of
hay. Then he sought out the t=
hickest
iron bar in the smithy for himself, took it as a stick in his hand and went
onwards.
When
he had walked for some time, he came to a small farm, and asked the bailiff=
if
he did not require a head-servant. "Yes," said the bailiff, "=
;I
can make use of one; you look a strong fellow who can do something, how muc=
h a
year do you want as wages?" He again replied that he wanted no wages at
all, but that every year he would give him three blows, which he must bear.
Then the bailiff was satisfied, for he, too, was a covetous fellow. Next
morning all the servants were to go into the wood, and the others were alre=
ady
up, but the head-servant was still in bed. Then one of them called to him,
"Get up, it is time; we are going into the wood, and thou must go with=
us."
"Ah," said he quite roughly and surlily, "you may just go, t=
hen;
I shall be back again before any of you." Then the others went to the
bailiff, and told him that the head-man was still lying in bed, and would n=
ot
go into the wood with them. The bailiff said they were to awaken him again,=
and
tell him to harness the horses. The head-man, however, said as before, &quo=
t;Just
go there, I shall be back again before any of you." And then he stayed=
in
bed two hours longer. At length he arose from the feathers, but first he got
himself two bushels of peas from the loft, made himself some broth with the=
m,
ate it at his leisure, and when that was done, went and harnessed the horse=
s,
and drove into the wood. Not far from the wood was a ravine through which he
had to pass, so he first drove the horses on, and then stopped them, and we=
nt
behind the cart, took trees and brushwood, and made a great barricade, so t=
hat
no horse could get through. When he was entering the wood, the others were =
just
driving out of it with their loaded carts to go home; then said he to them,
"Drive on, I will still get home before you do." He did not drive=
far
into the wood, but at once tore two of the very largest trees of all out of=
the
earth, threw them on his cart, and turned round. When he came to the barric=
ade,
the others were still standing there, not able to get through. "Don't =
you
see," said he, "that if you had stayed with me, you would have go=
t home
just as quickly, and would have had another hour's sleep?" He now want=
ed
to drive on, but his horses could not work their way through, so he unharne=
ssed
them, laid them on the top of the cart, took the shafts in his own hands, a=
nd
pulled it all through, and he did this just as easily as if it had been lad=
en
with feathers. When he was over, he said to the others, "There, you se=
e, I
have got over quicker than you," and drove on, and the others had to s=
tay
where they were. In the yard, however, he took a tree in his hand, showed i=
t to
the bailiff, and said, "Isn't that a fine bundle of wood?" Then s=
aid
the bailiff to his wife, "The servant is a good one, if he does sleep
long, he is still home before the others." So he served the bailiff fo=
r a
year, and when that was over, and the other servants were getting their wag=
es,
he said it was time for him to take his too. The bailiff, however, was afra=
id
of the blows which he was to receive, and earnestly entreated him to excuse=
him
from having them; for rather than that, he himself would be head-servant, a=
nd the
youth should be bailiff. "No," said he, "I will not be a
bailiff, I am head-servant, and will remain so, but I will administer that
which we agreed on." The bailiff was willing to give him whatsoever he
demanded, but it was of no use, the head-servant said no to everything. Then
the bailiff did not know what to do, and begged for a fortnight's delay, fo=
r he
wanted to find some way of escape. The head-servant consented to this delay.
The bailiff summoned all his clerks together, and they were to think the ma=
tter
over, and give him advice. The clerks pondered for a long time, but at last
they said that no one was sure of his life with the head-servant, for he co=
uld
kill a man as easily as a midge, and that the bailiff ought to make him get
into the well and clean it, and when he was down below, they would roll up =
one
of the mill-stones which was lying there, and throw it on his head; and the=
n he
would never return to daylight. The advice pleased the bailiff, and the
head-servant was quite willing to go down the well. When he was standing do=
wn
below at the bottom, they rolled down the largest mill-stone and thought th=
ey had
broken his skull, but he cried, "Chase away those hens from the well, =
they
are scratching in the sand up there, and throwing the grains into my eyes, =
so
that I can't see." So the bailiff cried, "Sh-sh," and preten=
ded to
frighten the hens away. When the head-servant had finished his work, he cli=
mbed
up and said, "Just look what a beautiful neck-tie I have on," and
behold it was the mill-stone which he was wearing round his neck. The head-=
servant
now wanted to take his reward, but the bailiff again begged for a fortnight=
's
delay. The clerks met together and advised him to send the head-servant to =
the
haunted mill to grind corn by night, for from thence as yet no man had ever
returned in the morning alive. The proposal pleased the bailiff, he called =
the
head-servant that very evening, and ordered him to take eight bushels of co=
rn
to the mill, and grind it that night, for it was wanted. So the head-servant
went to the loft, and put two bushels in his right pocket, and two in his l=
eft,
and took four in a wallet, half on his back, and half on his breast, and th=
us
laden went to the haunted mill. The miller told him that he could grind the=
re
very well by day, but not by night, for the mill was haunted, and that up to
the present time whosoever had gone into it at night had been found in the
morning lying dead inside. He said, "I will manage it, just you go awa=
y to
bed." Then he went into the mill, and poured out the corn. About eleven
o'clock he went into the miller's room, and sat down on the bench. When he had sat there a while, a d=
oor
suddenly opened, and a large table came in, and on the table, wine and roas=
ted
meats placed themselves, and much good food besides, but everything came of
itself, for no one was there to carry it. After this the chairs pushed
themselves up, but no people came, until all at once he beheld fingers, whi=
ch
handled knives and forks, and laid food on the plates, but with this except=
ion
he saw nothing. As he was hungry, and saw the food, he, too, place himself =
at
the table, ate with those who were eating and enjoyed it. When he had had
enough, and the others also had quite emptied their dishes, he distinctly h=
eard
all the candles being suddenly snuffed out, and as it was now pitch dark, he
felt something like a box on the ear. Then he said, "If anything of th=
at
kind comes again, I shall strike out in return." And when he had recei=
ved
a second box on the ear, he, too struck out. And so it continued the whole
night. He took nothing without
returning it, but repaid everything with interest, and did not lay about hi=
m in
vain. At daybreak, however, everything ceased. When the miller had got up, =
he wanted
to look after him, and wondered if he were still alive. Then the youth said=
, "I
have eaten my fill, have received some boxes on the ears, but I have given =
some
in return." The miller rejoiced, and said that the mill was now releas=
ed
from the spell, and wanted to give him much money as a reward. But he said,
"Money, I will not have, I have enough of it." So he took his mea=
l on
his back, went home, and told the bailiff that he had done what he had been
told to do, and would now have the reward agreed on. When the bailiff heard
that, he was seriously alarmed and quite beside himself; he walked backwards
and forwards in the room, and drops of perspiration ran down from his foreh=
ead.
Then he opened the window to get some fresh air, but before he was aware, t=
he head-servant
had given him such a kick that he flew through the window out into the air,=
and
so far away that no one ever saw him again. Then said the head-servant to t=
he
bailiff's wife, "If he does not come back, you must take the other
blow." She cried, "No, no I cannot bear it," and opened the
other window, because drops of perspiration were running down her forehead.
Then he gave her such a kick that she, too, flew out, and as she was lighter
she went much higher than her husband. Her husband cried, "Do come to
me," but she replied, "Come thou to me, I cannot come to thee.&qu=
ot;
And they hovered about there in the air, and could not get to each other, a=
nd
whether they are still hovering about, or not, I do not know, but the young
giant took up his iron bar, and went on his way.
There
was once upon a time a rich King who had three daughters, who daily went to
walk in the palace garden, and the King was a great lover of all kinds of f=
ine
trees, but there was one for which he had such an affection, that if anyone
gathered an apple from it he wished him a hundred fathoms underground. And =
when
harvest time came, the apples on this tree were all as red as blood. The th=
ree
daughters went every day beneath the tree, and looked to see if the wind had
not blown down an apple, but they never by any chance found one, and the tr=
ee
was so loaded with them that it was almost breaking, and the branches hung =
down
to the ground. Then the King's youngest child had a great desire for an app=
le,
and said to her sisters, "Our father loves us far too much to wish us
underground, it is my belief that he would only do that to people who were
strangers." And while she was speaking, the child plucked off quite a
large apple, and ran to her sisters, saying, "Just taste, my dear litt=
le
sisters, for never in my life have I tasted anything so delightful." T=
hen
the two other sisters also ate some of the apple, whereupon all three sank =
deep
down into the earth, where they could hear no cock crow.
When
mid-day came, the King wished to call them to come to dinner, but they were
nowhere to be found. He sought them everywhere in the palace and garden, but
could not find them. Then he was much troubled, and made known to the whole
land that whosoever brought his daughters back again should have one of the=
m to
wife. Hereupon so many young men went about the country in search, that the=
re
was no counting them, for every one loved the three children because they w=
ere
so kind to all, and so fair of face. Three young huntsmen also went out, and
when they had travelled about for eight days, they arrived at a great castl=
e,
in which were beautiful apartments, and in one room a table was laid on whi=
ch were
delicate dishes which were still so warm that they were smoking, but in the
whole of the castle no human being was either to be seen or heard. They wai=
ted
there for half a day, and the food still remained warm and smoking, and at
length they were so hungry that they sat down and ate, and agreed with each
other that they would stay and live in that castle, and that one of them, w=
ho
should be chosen by casting lots, should remain in the house, and the two
others seek the King's daughters. They cast lots, and the lot fell on the
eldest; so next day the two younger went out to seek, and the eldest had to
stay home. At mid-day came a small, small mannikin and begged for a piece of
bread, then the huntsman took the bread which he had found there, and cut a
round off the loaf and was about to give it to him, but whilst he was givin=
g it
to the mannikin, the latter let it fall, and asked the huntsman to be so go=
od
as to give him that piece again. The huntsman was about to do so and stoope=
d,
on which the mannikin took a stick, seized him by the hair, and gave him a =
good
beating. Next day, the second stayed at home, and he fared no better. When =
the
two others returned in the evening, the eldest said, "Well, how have y=
ou
got on?"
"Oh,
very badly," said he, and then they lamented their misfortune together,
but they said nothing about it to the youngest, for they did not like him at
all, and always called him Stupid Hans, because he did not exactly belong to
the forest. On the third day,=
the
youngest stayed at home, and again the little mannikin came and begged for a
piece of bread. When the youth gave it to him, the elf let it fall as befor=
e,
and asked him to be so good as to give him that piece again. Then said Hans=
to
the little mannikin, "What! canst thou not pick up that piece thyself?=
If
thou wilt not take as much trouble as that for thy daily bread, thou dost n=
ot
deserve to have it." Then the mannikin grew very angry and said he was=
to
do it, but the huntsman would not, and took my dear mannikin, and gave him a
thorough beating. Then the mannikin screamed terribly, and cried, "Sto=
p,
stop, and let me go, and I will tell thee where the King's daughters are.&q=
uot;
When Hans heard that, he left off beating him and the mannikin told him tha=
t he
was an earth mannikin, and that there were more than a thousand like him, a=
nd
that if he would go with him he would show him where the King's daughters w=
ere.
Then he showed him a deep well, but there was no water in it. And the elf s=
aid
that he knew well that the companions Hans had with him did not intend to d=
eal
honourably with him, therefore if he wished to deliver the King's children,=
he
must do it alone. The two other brothers would also be very glad to recover=
the
King's daughters, but they did not want to have any trouble or danger. Hans=
was
therefore to take a large basket, and he must seat himself in it with his
hanger and a bell, and be let down. Below were three rooms, and in each of =
them
was a princess, with a many-headed dragon, whose heads she was to comb and
trim, but he must cut them off. And having said all this, the elf vanished.
When it was evening the two brothers came and asked how he had got on, and =
he
said, "pretty well so far," and that he had seen no one except at
mid-day when a little mannikin had come and begged for a piece of bread, th=
at he
had given some to him, but that the mannikin had let it fall and had asked =
him
to pick it up again; but as he did not choose to do that, the elf had begun=
to
lose his temper, and that he had done what he ought not, and had given the =
elf
a beating, on which he had told him where the King's daughters were. Then t=
he
two were so angry at this that they grew green and yellow. Next morning they
went to the well together, and drew lots who should first seat himself in t=
he
basket, and again the lot fell on the eldest, and he was to seat himself in=
it,
and take the bell with him. Then he said, "If I ring, you must draw me=
up
again immediately." When he had gone down for a short distance, he ran=
g,
and they at once drew him up again. Then the second seated himself in the
basket, but he did just the same as the first, and then it was the turn of =
the
youngest, but he let himself be lowered quite to the bottom. When he had got
out of the basket, he took his hanger, and went and stood outside the first
door and listened, and heard the dragon snoring quite loudly. He opened the
door slowly, and one of the princesses was sitting there, and had nine drag=
on's
heads lying upon her lap, and was combing them. Then he took his hanger and
hewed at them, and the nine fell off. The princess sprang up, threw her arms
round his neck, embraced and kissed him repeatedly, and took her stomacher,
which was made of pure gold, and hung it round his neck. Then he went to th=
e second
princess, who had a dragon with five heads to comb, and delivered her also,=
and
to the youngest, who had a dragon with four heads, he went likewise. And th=
ey
all rejoiced, and embraced him and kissed him without stopping. Then he rang
very loud, so that those above heard him, and he placed the princesses one
after the other in the basket, and had them all drawn up, but when it came =
to
his own turn he remembered the words of the elf, who had told him that his =
comrades
did not mean well by him. So he took a great stone which was lying there, a=
nd
placed it in the basket, and when it was about half way up, his false broth=
ers
above cut the rope, so that the basket with the stone fell to the ground, a=
nd
they thought that he was dead, and ran away with the three princesses, maki=
ng
them promise to tell their father that it was they who had delivered them, =
and
then they went to the King, and each demanded a princess in marriage.
In the
meantime the youngest huntsman was wandering about the three chambers in gr=
eat
trouble, fully expecting to have to end his days there, when he saw, hangin=
g on
the wall, a flute; then said he, "Why dost thou hang there, no one can=
be
merry here?" He looked at the dragons, heads likewise and said, "=
You
too cannot help me now." He walked backwards and forwards for such a l=
ong
time that he made the surface of the ground quite smooth. But at last other
thoughts came to his mind, and he took the flute from the wall, and played a
few notes on it, and suddenly a number of elves appeared, and with every no=
te
that he sounded one more came. Then he played until the room was entirely
filled. They all asked what he desired, so he said he wished to get above
ground back to daylight, on which they seized him by every hair that grew on
his head, and thus they flew with him onto the earth again. When he was abo=
ve ground,
he at once went to the King's palace, just as the wedding of one princess w=
as
about to be celebrated, and he went to the room where the King and his three
daughters were. When the princesses saw him they fainted. Hereupon the King=
was
angry, and ordered him to be put in prison at once, because he thought he m=
ust
have done some injury to the children. When the princesses came to themselv=
es,
however, they entreated the King to set him free again. The King asked why,=
and
they said that they were not allowed to tell that, but their father said th=
at
they were to tell it to the stove. And he went out, listened at the door, a=
nd
heard everything. Then he caused the two brothers to be hanged on the gallo=
ws,
and to the third he gave his youngest daughter, and on that occasion I wore=
a
pair of glass shoes, and I struck them against a stone, and they said,
"Klink," and were broken.
There
was a certain merchant who had two children, a boy and a girl; they were bo=
th
young, and could not walk. And two richly-laden ships of his sailed forth to
sea with all his property on board, and just as he was expecting to win much
money by them, news came that they had gone to the bottom, and now instead =
of
being a rich man he was a poor one, and had nothing left but one field outs=
ide
the town. In order to drive his misfortune a little out of his thoughts, he
went out to this field, and as he was walking forwards and backwards in it,=
a
little black mannikin stood suddenly by his side, and asked why he was so s=
ad,
and what he was taking so much to heart. Then said the merchant, "If t=
hou
couldst help me I would willingly tell thee." "Who knows?"
replied the black dwarf. "Perhaps, I can help thee." Then the
merchant told him that all he possessed had gone to the bottom of the sea, =
and
that he had nothing left but this field. "Do not trouble thyself,"
said the dwarf. "If thou wilt promise to give me the first thing that =
rubs
itself against thy leg when thou art at home again, and to bring it here to
this place in twelve years' time, thou shalt have as much money as thou
wilt." The merchant thought, "What can that be but my dog?" =
and
did not remember his little boy, so he said yes, gave the black man a writt=
en
and sealed promise, and went home.
When
he reached home, his little boy was so delighted that he held by a bench,
tottered up to him and seized him fast by the legs. The father was shocked,=
for
he remembered his promise, and now knew what he had pledged himself to do; =
as
however, he still found no money in his chest, he thought the dwarf had only
been jesting. A month afterwards he went up to the garret, intending to gat=
her
together some old tin and to sell it, and saw a great heap of money lying. =
Then
he was happy again, made purchases, became a greater merchant than before, =
and
felt that this world was well-governed. In the meantime the boy grew tall, =
and
at the same time sharp and clever. But the nearer the twelfth year approach=
ed the
more anxious grew the merchant, so that his distress might be seen in his
face. One day his son asked w=
hat
ailed him, but the father would not say. The boy, however, persisted so lon=
g,
that at last he told him that without being aware of what he was doing, he =
had
promised him to a black dwarf, and had received much money for doing so. He
said likewise that he had set his hand and seal to this, and that now when
twelve years had gone by he would have to give him up. Then said the son, "Oh, fathe=
r, do
not be uneasy, all will go well. The black man has no power over me." =
The
son had himself blessed by the priest, and when the time came, father and s=
on
went together to the field, and the son made a circle and placed himself in=
side
it with his father. Then came the black dwarf and said to the old man,
"Hast thou brought with thee that which thou hast promised me?" He was silent, but the son asked,
"What dost thou want here?" Then said the black dwarf, "I ha=
ve
to speak with thy father, and not with thee." The son replied, "T=
hou
hast betrayed and misled my father, give back the writing."
"No," said the black dwarf, "I will not give up my rights.&q=
uot;
They spoke together for a long time after this, but at last they agreed that
the son, as he did not belong to the enemy of mankind, nor yet to his fathe=
r,
should seat himself in a small boat, which should lie on water which was
flowing away from them, and that the father should push it off with his own
foot, and then the son should remain given up to the water. So he took leav=
e of
his father, placed himself in a little boat, and the father had to push it =
off
with his own foot. The boat capsized so that the keel was uppermost, and th=
e father
believed his son was lost, and went home and mourned for him.
The
boat, however, did not sink, but floated quietly away, and the boy sat safe=
ly
inside it, and it floated thus for a long time, until at last it stopped by=
an
unknown shore. Then he landed and saw a beautiful castle before him, and set
out to go to it. But when he entered it, he found that it was bewitched. He
went through every room, but all were empty until he reached the last, wher=
e a
snake lay coiled in a ring. The snake, however, was an enchanted maiden, who
rejoiced to see him, and said, "Hast thou come, oh, my deliverer? I ha=
ve
already waited twelve years for thee; this kingdom is bewitched, and thou m=
ust
set it free." "How =
can I
do that?" he inquired. "To-night come twelve black men, covered w=
ith
chains who will ask what thou art doing here; keep silent; give them no ans=
wer,
and let them do what they will with thee; they will torment thee, beat thee=
, stab
thee; let everything pass, only do not speak; at twelve o'clock, they must =
go
away again. On the second night twelve others will come; on the third,
four-and-twenty, who will cut off thy head, but at twelve o'clock their pow=
er
will be over, and then if thou hast endured all, and hast not spoken the
slightest word, I shall be released. I will come to thee, and will have, in=
a
bottle, some of the water of life. I will rub thee with that, and then thou
wilt come to life again, and be as healthy as before." Then said he,
"I will gladly set thee free." And everything happened just as she
had said; the black men could not force a single word from him, and on the
third night the snake became a beautiful princess, who came with the water =
of
life and brought him back to life again. So she threw herself into his arms=
and
kissed him, and there was joy and gladness in the whole castle. After this
their marriage was celebrated, and he was King of the Golden Mountain.
They
lived very happily together, and the Queen bore a fine boy. Eight years had
already gone by, when the King bethought him of his father; his heart was
moved, and he wished to visit him. The Queen, however, would not let him go
away, and said, "I know beforehand that it will cause my
unhappiness;" but he suffered her to have no rest until she consented.=
At
their parting she gave him a wishing-ring, and said, "Take this ring a=
nd
put it on thy finger, and then thou wilt immediately be transported
whithersoever thou wouldst be, only thou must promise me not to use it in
wishing me away from this place and with thy father." That he promised
her, put the ring on his finger, and wished himself at home, just outside t=
he
town where his father lived. Instantly he found himself there, and made for=
the
town, but when he came to the gate, the sentries would not let him in, beca=
use
he wore such strange and yet such rich and magnificent clothing. Then he went to a hill where a she=
pherd
was watching his sheep, changed clothes with him, put on his old
shepherd's-coat, and then entered the town without hindrance. When he came =
to
his father, he made himself known to him, but he did not at all believe that
the shepherd was his son, and said he certainly had had a son, but that he =
was
dead long ago; however, as he saw he was a poor, needy shepherd, he would g=
ive
him something to eat. Then the shepherd said to his parents, "I am ver=
ily
your son. Do you know of no mark on my body by which you could recognize
me?" "Yes," said his mother, "our son had a raspberry m=
ark
under his right arm." He slipped back his shirt, and they saw the
raspberry under his right arm, and no longer doubted that he was their son.
Then he told them that he was King of the Golden Mountain, and a king's
daughter was his wife, and that they had a fine son of seven years old. Then
said the father, "That is certainly not true; it is a fine kind of a k=
ing
who goes about in a ragged shepherd's-coat." On this the son fell in a
passion, and without thinking of his promise, turned his ring round, and wi=
shed
both his wife and child with him.
They were there in a second, but the Queen wept, and reproached him,=
and
said that he had broken his word, and had brought misfortune upon her. He s=
aid,
"I have done it thoughtlessly, and not with evil intention," and
tried to calm her, and she pretended to believe this; but she had mischief =
in
her mind.
Then
he led her out of the town into the field, and showed her the stream where =
the
little boat had been pushed off, and then he said, "I am tired; sit do=
wn,
I will sleep awhile on thy lap." And he laid his head on her lap, and =
fell
asleep. When he was asleep, she first drew the ring from his finger, then s=
he
drew away the foot which was under him, leaving only the slipper behind her,
and she took her child in her arms, and wished herself back in her own king=
dom.
When he awoke, there he lay quite deserted, and his wife and child were gon=
e,
and so was the ring from his finger, the slipper only was still there as a
token. "Home to thy parents thou canst not return," thought he,
"they would say that thou wast a wizard; thou must be off, and walk on
until thou arrivest in thine own kingdom." So he went away and came at length=
to a
hill by which three giants were standing, disputing with each other because=
they
did not know how to divide their father's property. When they saw him passi=
ng
by, they called to him and said little men had quick wits, and that he was =
to
divide their inheritance for them. The inheritance, however, consisted of a
sword, which had this property that if any one took it in his hand, and sai=
d,
"All heads off but mine," every head would lie on the ground;
secondly, of a cloak which made any one who put it on invisible; thirdly, o=
f a
pair of boots which could transport the wearer to any place he wished in a
moment. He said, "Give me the three things that I may see if they are
still in good condition." They gave him the cloak, and when he had put=
it
on, he was invisible and changed into a fly. Then he resumed his own form a=
nd
said, "The cloak is a good one, now give me the sword." They said,
"No, we will not give thee that; if thou were to say, All heads off but
mine,' all our heads would be off, and thou alone wouldst be left with
thine." Nevertheless they gave it to him with the condition that he was
only to try it against a tree. This he did, and the sword cut in two the tr=
unk
of a tree as if it had been a blade of straw. Then he wanted to have the bo=
ots
likewise, but they said, "No, we will not give them; if thou hadst the=
m on
thy feet and wert to wish thyself at the top of the hill, we should be left
down here with nothing." "Oh, no," said he, "I will not=
do
that." So they gave him the boots as well. And now when he had got all
these things, he thought of nothing but his wife and his child, and said as
though to himself, "Oh, if I were but on the Golden Mountain," an=
d at
the same moment he vanished from the sight of the giants, and thus their
inheritance was divided. When he was near his palace, he heard sounds of jo=
y,
and fiddles, and flutes, and the people told him that his wife was celebrat=
ing
her wedding with another. Then he fell into a rage, and said, "False
woman, she betrayed and deserted me whilst I was asleep!" So he put on=
his
cloak, and unseen by all went into the palace. When he entered the dining-h=
all a
great table was spread with delicious food, and the guests were eating and
drinking, and laughing, and jesting. She sat on a royal seat in the midst of
them in splendid apparel, with a crown on her head. He placed himself behind
her, and no one saw him. When she put a piece of meat on a plate for hersel=
f,
he took it away and ate it, and when she poured out a glass of wine for her=
self,
he took it away and drank it. She was always helping herself to something, =
and
yet she never got anything, for plate and glass disappeared immediately. Th=
en
dismayed and ashamed, she arose and went to her chamber and wept, but he
followed her there. She said, "Has the devil power over me, or did my
deliverer never come?" Then he struck her in the face, and said, "=
;Did
thy deliverer never come? It is he who has thee in his power, thou traitor.
Have I deserved this from thee?" Then he made himself visible, went in=
to
the hall, and cried, "The wedding is at an end, the true King has
returned." The kings, princes, and councillors who were assembled ther=
e,
ridiculed and mocked him, but he did not trouble to answer them, and said,
"Will you go away, or not?" On this they tried to seize him and
pressed upon him, but he drew his sword and said, "All heads off but
mine," and all the heads rolled on the ground, and he alone was master,
and once more King of the Golden Mountain.
There
was once upon a time a Queen who had a little daughter who was still so you=
ng
that she had to be carried. One day the child was naughty, and the mother m=
ight
say what she liked, but the child would not be quiet. Then she became
impatient, and as the ravens were flying about the palace, she opened the
window and said, "I wish you were a raven and would fly away, and then=
I
should have some rest." Scarcely had she spoken the words, before the
child was changed into a raven, and flew from her arms out of the window. It
flew into a dark forest, and stayed in it a long time, and the parents heard
nothing of their child. Then one day a man was on his way through this fore=
st
and heard the raven crying, and followed the voice, and when he came nearer,
the bird said, "I am a king's daughter by birth, and am bewitched, but
thou canst set me free." "What am I to do," asked he. She sa=
id,
"Go further into the forest, and thou wilt find a house, wherein sits =
an
aged woman, who will offer thee meat and drink, but you must accept nothing,
for if you eatest and drinkest anything, thou wilt fall into a sleep, and t=
hen
thou wilt not be able to deliver me. In the garden behind the house there i=
s a
great heap of tan, and on this thou shalt stand and wait for me. For three =
days
I will come every afternoon at two o'clock in a carriage. On the first day =
four
white horses will be harnessed to it, then four chestnut horses, and lastly
four black ones; but if thou art not awake, but sleeping, I shall not be set
free." The man promised to do everything that she desired, but the rav=
en
said, alas, "I know already that thou wilt not deliver me; thou wilt
accept something from the woman." Then the man once more promised that=
he
would certainly not touch anything either to eat or to drink. But when he
entered the house the old woman came to him and said, "Poor man, how f=
aint
you are; come and refresh yourself; eat and drink." "No," sa=
id
the man, "I will not eat or drink." She, however, let him have no peac=
e, and
said, "If you will not eat, take one drink out of the glass; one is
nothing." Then he let himself be persuaded, and drank. Shortly before =
two
o'clock in the afternoon he went into the garden to the tan heap to wait for
the raven. As he was standing there, his weariness all at once became so gr=
eat
that he could not struggle against it, and lay down for a short time, but he
was determined not to go to sleep. Hardly, however, had he lain down, than =
his
eyes closed of their own accord, and he fell asleep and slept so soundly th=
at
nothing in the world could have aroused him. At two o'clock the raven came
driving up with four white horses, but she was already in deep grief and sa=
id, "I
know he is asleep." And when she came into the garden, he was indeed l=
ying
there asleep on the heap of tan. She alighted from the carriage, went to hi=
m,
shook him, and called him, but he did not awake. Next day about noon, the o=
ld
woman came again and brought him food and drink, but he would not take any =
of
it. But she let him have no rest and persuaded him until at length he again
took one drink out of the glass. Towards two o'clock he went into the garde=
n to
the tan heap to wait for the raven, but all at once felt such a great weari=
ness
that his limbs would no longer support him. He could not help himself, and =
was
forced to lie down, and fell into a heavy sleep. When the raven drove up wi=
th
four brown horses, she was already full of grief, and said, "I know he=
is
asleep." She went to him, but there he lay sleeping, and there was no
wakening him. Next day the old woman asked what was the meaning of this? He=
was
neither eating nor drinking anything; did he want to die? He replied, "=
;I
am not allowed to eat or drink, and will not do so." But she set a dish
with food, and a glass with wine before him, and when he smelt it he could =
not
resist, and swallowed a deep draught. When the time came, he went out into =
the
garden to the heap of tan, and waited for the King's daughter; but he became
still more weary than on the day before, and lay down and slept as soundly =
as
if he had been a stone. At two o'clock the raven came with four black horse=
s,
and the coachman and everything else was black. She was already in the deep=
est
grief, and said, "I know that he is asleep and cannot deliver me."
When she came to him, there he was lying fast asleep. She shook him and cal=
led
him, but she could not waken him. Then she laid a loaf beside him, and after
that a piece of meat, and thirdly a bottle of wine, and he might consume as
much of all of them as he liked, but they would never grow less. After this=
she
took a gold ring from her finger, and put it on his, and her name was grave=
n on
it. Lastly, she laid a letter beside him wherein was written what she had g=
iven
him, and that none of the things would ever grow less; and in it was also
written, "I see right well that here you will never be able to deliver=
me,
but if thou art still willing to deliver me, come to the golden castle of
Stromberg; it lies in thy power, of that I am certain." And when she h=
ad
given him all these things, she seated herself in her carriage, and drove to
the golden castle of Stromberg.
When
the man awoke and saw that he had slept, he was sad at heart, and said,
"She has certainly driven by, and I have not set her free." Then =
he
perceived the things which were lying beside him, and read the letter where=
in
was written how everything had happened. So he arose and went away, intendi=
ng
to go to the golden castle of Stromberg, but he did not know where it was.
After he had walked about the world for a long time, he entered into a dark=
forest,
and walked for fourteen days, and still could not find his way out. Then it=
was
once more evening, and he was so tired that he lay down in a thicket and fe=
ll
asleep. Next day he went onwa=
rds, and
in the evening, as he was again about to lie down beneath some bushes, he h=
eard
such a howling and crying that he could not go to sleep. And at the time wh=
en
people light the candles, he saw one glimmering, and arose and went towards=
it.
Then he came to a house which seemed very small, for in front of it a great
giant was standing. He thought to himself, "If I go in, and the giant =
sees
me, it will very likely cost me my life."
At
length he ventured it and went in. When the giant saw him, he said, "I=
t is
well that thou comest, for it is long since I have eaten; I will at once eat
thee for my supper." "I'd rather you would leave that alone,"=
; said
the man, "I do not like to be eaten; but if thou hast any desire to ea=
t, I
have quite enough here to satisfy thee." "If that be true," =
said
the giant, "thou mayst be easy, I was only going to devour thee becaus=
e I
had nothing else." Then they went, and sat down to the table, and the =
man
took out the bread, wine, and meat which would never come to an end. "=
This
pleases me well," said the giant, and ate to his heart's content. Then the man said to him, "Ca=
nst
thou tell me where the golden castle of Stromberg is?" The giant said,
"I will look at my map; all the towns, and villages, and houses are to=
be
found on it." He brought out the map which he had in the room and look=
ed
for the castle, but it was not to be found on it. "It's no
matter!" said he, "=
I have
some still larger maps in my cupboard upstairs, and we will look in them.&q=
uot;
But there, too, it was in vain. The man now wanted to go onwards, but the g=
iant
begged him to wait a few days longer until his brother, who had gone out to
bring some provisions, came home. When the brother came home they inquired =
about
the golden castle of Stromberg. He replied, "When I have eaten and have
had enough, I will look in the map." Then he went with them up to his
chamber, and they searched in his map, but could not find it. Then he broug=
ht
out still older maps, and they never rested until they found the golden cas=
tle
of Stromberg, but it was many thousand miles away. "How am I to get th=
ere?" asked the man. The giant said, &qu=
ot;I
have two hours' time, during which I will carry you into the neighbourhood,=
but
after that I must be at home to suckle the child that we have." So the
giant carried the man to about a hundred leagues from the castle, and said,=
"Thou
canst very well walk the rest of the way alone." And he turned back, b=
ut
the man went onwards day and night, until at length he came to the golden
castle of Stromberg. It stood on a glass-mountain, and the bewitched maiden
drove in her carriage round the castle, and then went inside it. He rejoiced
when he saw her and wanted to climb up to her, but when he began to do so he
always slipped down the glass again. And when he saw that he could not reach
her, he was filled with trouble, and said to himself, "I will stay down
here below, and wait for her." So he built himself a hut and stayed in=
it
for a whole year, and every day saw the King's daughter driving about above,
but never could go to her. Then one day he saw from his hut three robbers w=
ho
were beating each other, and cried to them, "God be with ye!" They
stopped when they heard the cry, but as they saw no one, they once more beg=
an
to beat each other, and that too most dangerously. So he again cried, "=
;God
be with ye!" Again they stopped, looked round about, but as they saw no
one they went on beating each other. Then he cried for the third time,
"God be with ye," and thought, "I must see what these three =
are
about," and went thither and asked why they were beating each other so
furiously. One of them said that he found a stick, and that when he struck a
door with it, that door would spring open. The next said that he had found a
mantle, and that whenever he put it on, he was invisible, but the third sai=
d he
had found a horse on which a man could ride everywhere, even up the glass-m=
ountain.
And now they did not know whether they ought to have these things in common=
, or
whether they ought to divide them. Then the man said, "I will give you
something in exchange for these three things. Money indeed have I not, but I
have other things of more value; but first I must try yours to see if you h=
ave
told the truth." Then they put him on the horse, threw the mantle round
him, and gave him the stick in his hand, and when he had all these things t=
hey
were no longer able to see him. So he gave them some vigorous blows and cri=
ed,
"Now, vagabonds, you have got what you deserve, are you satisfied?&quo=
t;
And he rode up the glass-mountain, but when he came in front of the castle =
at
the top, it was shut. Then he struck the door with his stick, and it sprang
open immediately. He went in and ascended the stairs until he came to the h=
all
where the maiden was sitting with a golden cup full of wine before her. She,
however, could not see him because he had the mantle on. And when he came u=
p to
her, he drew from his finger the ring which she had given him, and threw it
into the cup so that it rang. Then she cried, "That is my ring, so the=
man
who is to set me free must be here." They searched the whole castle and
did not find him, but he had gone out, and had seated himself on the horse =
and
thrown off the mantle. When they came to the door, they saw him and cried a=
loud
in their delight.* Then he alighted and took the King's daughter in his arm=
s,
but she kissed him and said, "Now hast thou set me free, and to-morrow=
we
will celebrate our wedding."
There
was once a poor peasant who had no land, but only a small house, and one
daughter. Then said the daughter, "We ought to ask our lord the King f=
or a
bit of newly-cleared land." When the King heard of their poverty, he
presented them with a piece of land, which she and her father dug up, and
intended to sow with a little corn and grain of that kind. When they had dug
nearly the whole of the field, they found in the earth a mortar made of pure
gold. "Listen," said the father to the girl, "as our lord the
King has been so gracious and presented us with the field, we ought to give=
him
this mortar in return for it." The daughter, however, would not consen=
t to
this, and said, "Father, if we have the mortar without having the pest=
le
as well, we shall have to get the pestle, so you had much better say nothing
about it." He would, however, not obey her, but took the mortar and
carried it to the King, said that he had found it in the cleared land, and
asked if he would accept it as a present. The King took the mortar, and ask=
ed
if he had found nothing besides that? "No," answered the
countryman. Then the King sai=
d that
he must now bring him the pestle. The peasant said they had not found that,=
but
he might just as well have spoken to the wind; he was put in prison, and wa=
s to
stay there until he produced the pestle. The servants had daily to carry him
bread and water, which is what people get in prison, and they heard how the=
man
cried out continually, "Ah! if I had but listened to my daughter! Alas=
, alas,
if I had but listened to my daughter!" and would neither eat nor drink=
. So
he commanded the servants to bring the prisoner before him, and then the Ki=
ng
asked the peasant why he was always crying, "Ah! if I had but listened=
to
my daughter!" and what it was that his daughter had said. "She to=
ld
me that I ought not to take the mortar to you, for I should have to produce=
the
pestle as well." "If you have a daughter who is as wise as that, =
let
her come here." She was therefore obliged to appear before the King, w=
ho
asked her if she really was so wise, and said he would set her a riddle, an=
d if
she could guess that, he would marry her. She at once said yes, she would g=
uess
it. Then said the King, "Come to me not clothed, not naked, not riding,
not walking, not in the road, and not out of the road, and if thou canst do
that I will marry thee." So she went away, put off everything she had =
on,
and then she was not clothed, and took a great fishing net, and seated hers=
elf in
it and wrapped it entirely round and round her, so that she was not naked, =
and
she hired an ass, and tied the fisherman's net to its tail, so that it was
forced to drag her along, and that was neither riding nor walking. The ass =
had
also to drag her in the ruts, so that she only touched the ground with her
great toe, and that was neither being in the road nor out of the road. And =
when
she arrived in that fashion, the King said she had guessed the riddle and
fulfilled all the conditions. Then he ordered her father to be released from
the prison, took her to wife, and gave into her care all the royal possessi=
ons.
Now
when some years had passed, the King was once drawing up his troops on para=
de,
when it happened that some peasants who had been selling wood stopped with
their waggons before the palace; some of them had oxen yoked to them, and s=
ome
horses. There was one peasant who had three horses, one of which was delive=
red
of a young foal, and it ran away and lay down between two oxen which were in
front of the waggon. When the peasants came together, they began to dispute=
, to
beat each other and make a disturbance, and the peasant with the oxen wante=
d to
keep the foal, and said one of the oxen had given birth to it, and the other
said his horse had had it, and that it was his. The quarrel came before the
King, and he give the verdict that the foal should stay where it had been
found, and so the peasant with the oxen, to whom it did not belong, got it.=
Then
the other went away, and wept and lamented over his foal. Now he had heard =
how
gracious his lady the Queen was because she herself had sprung from poor
peasant folks, so he went to her and begged her to see if she could not help
him to get his foal back again. Said she, "Yes, I will tell you what to
do, if thou wilt promise me not to betray me. Early to-morrow morning, when=
the
King parades the guard, place thyself there in the middle of the road by wh=
ich
he must pass, take a great fishing-net and pretend to be fishing; go on
fishing, too, and empty out the net as if thou hadst got it full" and =
then
she told him also what he was to say if he was questioned by the King. The =
next
day, therefore, the peasant stood there, and fished on dry ground. When the=
King
passed by, and saw that, he sent his messenger to ask what the stupid man w=
as
about? He answered, "I am fishing." The messenger asked how he co=
uld
fish when there was no water there? The peasant said, "It is as easy f=
or
me to fish on dry land as it is for an ox to have a foal." The messeng=
er
went back and took the answer to the King, who ordered the peasant to be
brought to him and told him that this was not his own idea, and he wanted to
know whose it was? The peasant must confess this at once. The peasant, howe=
ver,
would not do so, and said always, God forbid he should! the idea was his ow=
n.
They laid him, however, on a heap of straw, and beat him and tormented him =
so
long that at last he admitted that he had got the idea from the Queen.
When
the King reached home again, he said to his wife, "Why hast thou behav=
ed
so falsely to me? I will not have thee any longer for a wife; thy time is u=
p,
go back to the place from whence thou camest to thy peasant's hut." One
favour, however, he granted her; she might take with her the one thing that=
was
dearest and best in her eyes; and thus was she dismissed. She said, "Y=
es,
my dear husband, if you command this, I will do it," and she embraced =
him
and kissed him, and said she would take leave of him. Then she ordered a
powerful sleeping draught to be brought, to drink farewell to him; the King
took a long draught, but she took only a little. He soon fell into a deep
sleep, and when she perceived that, she called a servant and took a fair wh=
ite
linen cloth and wrapped the King in it, and the servant was forced to carry=
him
into a carriage that stood before the door, and she drove with him to her o=
wn little
house. She laid him in her own little bed, and he slept one day and one nig=
ht
without awakening, and when he awoke he looked round and said, "Good G=
od!
where am I?" He called his attendants, but none of them were there. At
length his wife came to his bedside and said, "My dear lord and King, =
you
told me I might bring away with me from the palace that which was dearest a=
nd
most precious in my eyes I have nothing more precious and dear than yoursel=
f,
so I have brought you with me." Tears rose to the King's eyes and he s=
aid,
"Dear wife, thou shalt be mine and I will be thine," and he took =
her
back with him to the royal palace and was married again to her, and at the
present time they are very likely still living.
Once
upon a time lived a peasant and his wife, and the parson of the village had=
a
fancy for the wife, and had wished for a long while to spend a whole day
happily with her. The peasant woman, too, was quite willing. One day,
therefore, he said to the woman, "Listen, my dear friend, I have now
thought of a way by which we can for once spend a whole day happily togethe=
r.
I'll tell you what; on Wednesday, you must take to your bed, and tell your
husband you are ill, and if you only complain and act being ill properly, a=
nd
go on doing so until Sunday when I have to preach, I will then say in my se=
rmon
that whosoever has at home a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick
father, a sick mother, a sick brother or whosoever else it may be, and make=
s a pilgrimage
to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where you can get a peck of laurel-leav=
es
for a kreuzer, the sick child, the sick husband, the sick wife, the sick
father, or sick mother, the sick sister, or whosoever else it may be, will =
be
restored to health immediately."
"I
will manage it," said the woman promptly. Now therefore on the Wednesd=
ay,
the peasant woman took to her bed, and complained and lamented as agreed on,
and her husband did everything for her that he could think of, but nothing =
did
her any good, and when Sunday came the woman said, "I feel as ill as i=
f I
were going to die at once, but there is one thing I should like to do befor=
e my
end I should like to hear the parson's sermon that he is going to preach
to-day." On that the peasant said, "Ah, my child, do not do it---=
thou
mightest make thyself worse if thou wert to get up. Look, I will go to the
sermon, and will attend to it very carefully, and will tell thee everything=
the
parson says."
"Well,"
said the woman, "go, then, and pay great attention, and repeat to me a=
ll
that thou hearest." So the peasant went to the sermon, and the parson
began to preach and said, if any one had at home a sick child, a sick husba=
nd,
a sick wife, a sick father a sick mother, a sick sister, brother or any one
else, and would make a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where=
a
peck of laurel-leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, sick husband, sick w=
ife,
sick father, sick mother, sick sister, brother, or whosoever else it might =
be,
would be restored to health instantly, and whosoever wished to undertake the
journey was to go to him after the service was over, and he would give him =
the
sack for the laurel-leaves and the kreuzer.
Then
no one was more rejoiced than the peasant, and after the service was over, =
he
went at once to the parson, who gave him the bag for the laurel-leaves and =
the
kreuzer. After that he went home, and even at the house door he cried,
"Hurrah! dear wife, it is now almost the same thing as if thou wert we=
ll!
The parson has preached to-day that whosoever had at home a sick child, a s=
ick
husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a sick mother, a sick sister, brother =
or
whoever it might be, and would make a pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill =
in
Italy, where a peck of laurel-leaves costs a kreuzer, the sick child, sick
husband, sick wife, sick father, sick mother, sick sister, brother, or
whosoever else it was, would be cured immediately, and now I have already g=
ot
the bag and the kreuzer from the parson, and will at once begin my journey =
so
that thou mayst get well the faster," and thereupon he went away. He w=
as,
however, hardly gone before the woman got up, and the parson was there
directly.
But now
we will leave these two for a while, and follow the peasant, who walked on
quickly without stopping, in order to get the sooner to the Göckerli h=
ill,
and on his way he met his gossip. His gossip was an egg-merchant, and was j=
ust
coming from the market, where he had sold his eggs. "May you be
blessed," said the gossip, "where are you off to so fast?"
"To
all eternity, my friend," said the peasant, "my wife is ill, and I
have been to-day to hear the parson's sermon, and he preached that if any o=
ne
had in his house a sick child, a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick father, a
sick mother, a sick sister, brother or any one else, and made a pilgrimage =
to
the Göckerli hill in Italy, where a peck of laurel-leaves costs a kreu=
zer,
the sick child, the sick husband, the sick wife, the sick father, the sick
mother, the sick sister, brother or whosoever else it was, would be cured
immediately, and so I have got the bag for the laurel-leaves and the kreuzer
from the parson, and now I am beginning my pilgrimage." "But list=
en,
gossip," said the egg-merchant to the peasant, "are you, then, st=
upid
enough to believe such a thing as that? Don't you know what it means? The
parson wants to spend a whole day alone with your wife in peace, so he has
given you this job to do to get you out of the way."
"My
word!" said the peasant. "How I'd like to know if that's true!&qu=
ot;
"Come,
then," said the gossip, "I'll tell you what to do. Get into my
egg-basket and I will carry you home, and then you will see for yourself.&q=
uot;
So that was settled, and the gossip put the peasant into his egg-basket and
carried him home.
When
they got to the house, hurrah! but all was going merry there! The woman had
already had nearly everything killed that was in the farmyard, and had made
pancakes, and the parson was there, and had brought his fiddle with him. The
gossip knocked at the door, and woman asked who was there. "It is I,
gossip," said the egg-merchant, "give me shelter this night; I ha=
ve
not sold my eggs at the market, so now I have to carry them home again, and
they are so heavy that I shall never be able to do it, for it is dark
already."
"Indeed,
my friend," said the woman, "thou comest at a very inconvenient t=
ime
for me, but as thou art here it can't be helped, come in, and take a seat t=
here
on the bench by the stove." Then she placed the gossip and the basket
which he carried on his back on the bench by the stove. The parson, however,
and the woman, were as merry as possible. At length the parson said,
"Listen, my dear friend, thou canst sing beautifully; sing something to
me." "Oh," said the woman, "I cannot sing now, in my yo=
ung
days indeed I could sing well enough, but that's all over now."
"Come,"
said the parson once more, "do sing some little song."
On
that the woman began and sang,
"I've sent my husband away fro=
m me To the Göckerli hill in Italy.=
"
Thereupon
the parson sang,
"I wish 'twas a year before he=
came
back, I'd never ask himfor the
laurel-leaf sack."
Hallelujah.
Then
the gossip who was in the background began to sing (but I ought to tell you=
the
peasant was called Hildebrand), so the gossip sang,
"What art thou doing, my Hilde=
brand
dear, There on the bench by t=
he
stove so near?"
Hallelujah.
And
then the peasant sang from his basket,
"All singing I ever shall hate=
from
this day, And here in this ba=
sket
no longer I'll stay."
Hallelujah.
And he
got out of the basket, and cudgelled the parson out of the house.
About
a thousand or more years ago, there were in this country nothing but small
kings, and one of them who lived on the Keuterberg was very fond of
hunting. Once on a time when =
he was
riding forth from his castle with his huntsmen, three girls were watching t=
heir
cows upon the mountain, and when they saw the King with all his followers, =
the
eldest girl pointed to him, and called to the two other girls, "If I do
not get that one, I will have none." Then the second girl answered from
the other side of the hill, and pointed to the one who was on the King's ri=
ght
hand, "Hilloa! hilloa! If I do not get him, I will have no one."
These, however, were the two ministers. The King heard all this, and when he
had come back from the chase, he caused the three girls to be brought to hi=
m,
and asked them what they had said yesterday on the mountain. This they would
not tell him, so the King asked the eldest if she really would take him for=
her
husband? Then she said, "Yes," and the two ministers married the =
two sisters,
for they were all three fair and beautiful of face, especially the Queen, w=
ho
had hair like flax. But the two sisters had no children, and once when the =
King
was obliged to go from home he invited them to come to the Queen in order to
cheer her, for she was about to bear a child. She had a little boy who brou=
ght
a bright red star into the world with him. Then the two sisters said to each
other that they would throw the beautiful boy into the water. When they had
thrown him in (I believe it was into the Weser) a little bird flew up into =
the
air, which sang,
"To thy death art thou sped, <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Until God's word be said.
In the white lily bloom, Brave boy, is thy tomb."
When
the two heard that, they were frightened to death, and ran away in great ha=
ste.
When the King came home they told him that the Queen had been delivered of a
dog. Then the King said, "What God does, is well done!" But a
fisherman who dwelt near the water fished the little boy out again while he=
was
still alive, and as his wife had no children, they reared him. When a year =
had
gone by, the King again went away, and the Queen had another little boy, wh=
om
the false sisters likewise took and threw into the water. Then up flew a li=
ttle
bird again and sang,
"To thy death art thou sped, <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Until God's word be said.
In the white lily bloom, Brave boy, is thy tomb."
And when the King came back, they told him that the Queen had once more given b= irth to a dog, and he again said, "What God does, is well done." The fisherman, however, fished this one also out of the water, and reared him.<= o:p>
Then
the King again journeyed forth, and the Queen had a little girl, whom also =
the
false sisters threw into the water. Then again a little bird flew up on high
and sang,
"To thy death art thou sped Until God's word be said.
In the white lily bloom, Bonny girl, is thy tomb."
And
when the King came home they told him that the Queen had been delivered of a
cat. Then the King grew angry, and ordered his wife to be cast into prison,=
and
therein was she shut up for many long years.
In the
meantime the children had grown up. Then eldest once went out with some oth=
er
boys to fish, but the other boys would not have him with them, and said,
"Go thy way, foundling."
Hereupon
he was much troubled, and asked the old fisherman if that was true? The fisherman told him that once w=
hen he
was fishing he had drawn him out of the water. So the boy said he would go
forth and seek his father. The fisherman, however, entreated him to stay, b=
ut
he would not let himself be hindered, and at last the fisherman consented. =
Then
the boy went on his way and walked for many days, and at last he came to a
great piece of water by the side of which stood an old woman fishing.
"Good day, mother," said the boy.
"Many
thanks," said she.
"Thou
wilt fish long enough before thou catchest anything."
"And
thou wilt seek long enough before thou findest thy father. How wilt thou get
over the water?" said the woman.
"God
knows."
Then
the old woman took him up on her back and carried him through it, and he so=
ught
for a long time, but could not find his father.
When a
year had gone by, the second boy set out to seek his brother. He came to the
water, and all fared with him just as with his brother. And now there was no
one at home but the daughter, and she mourned for her brothers so much that=
at
last she also begged the fisherman to let her set forth, for she wished to =
go
in search of her brothers. Then she likewise came to the great piece of wat=
er,
and she said to the old woman, "Good day, mother."
"Many
thanks," replied the old woman.
"May
God help you with your fishing," said the maiden. When the old woman h=
eard
that, she became quite friendly, and carried her over the water, gave her a
wand, and said to her, "Go, my daughter, ever onwards by this road, and
when you come to a great black dog, you must pass it silently and boldly,
without either laughing or looking at it. Then you will come to a great high
castle, on the threshold of which you must let the wand fall, and go straig=
ht
through the castle, and out again on the other side. There you will see an =
old
fountain out of which a large tree has grown, whereon hangs a bird in a cage
which you must take down. Take likewise a glass of water out of the fountai=
n,
and with these two things go back by the same way. Pick up the wand again f=
rom
the threshold and take it with you, and when you again pass by the dog, str=
ike
him in the face with it, but be sure that you hit him, and then just come b=
ack
here to me." The maiden found everything exactly as the old woman had
said, and on her way back she found her two brothers who had sought each ot=
her
over half the world. They went together to the place where the black dog was
lying on the road; she struck it in the face, and it turned into a handsome
prince who went with them to the river. There the old woman was still stand=
ing.
She rejoiced much to see them again, and carried them all over the water, a=
nd
then she too went away, for now she was freed. The others, however, went to=
the
old fisherman, and all were glad that they had found each other again, but =
they
hung the bird on the wall.
But
the second son could not settle at home, and took his cross-bow and went
a-hunting. When he was tired he took his flute, and made music. The King was
hunting too, and heard that and went thither, and when he met the youth, he
said, "Who has given thee leave to hunt here?"
"Oh,
no one."
"To
whom dost thou belong, then?"
"I
am the fisherman's son."
"But
he has no children."
"If
thou wilt not believe, come with me."
That
the King did, and questioned the fisherman, who told everything to him, and=
the
little bird on the wall began to sing,
"The mother sits alone There in the prison small, O King of royal blood, These are thy children all. The sisters twain so false, They wrought the children woe, There in the waters deep Where the fishermen come and go.&qu=
ot;
Then they were all terrified, and the King took the bird, the fisherman and the three children back with him to the castle, and ordered the prison to be op= ened and brought his wife out again. She had, however, grown quite ill and weak. Then the daughter gave = her some of the water of the fountain to drink, and she became strong and healt= hy. But the two false sisters were burnt, and the daughter married the prince.<= o:p>
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>97 The Water of Life<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
There
was once a King who had an illness, and no one believed that he would come =
out
of it with his life. He had three sons who were much distressed about it, a=
nd
went down into the palace-garden and wept. There they met an old man who
inquired as to the cause of their grief. They told him that their father wa=
s so
ill that he would most certainly die, for nothing seemed to cure him. Then =
the
old man said, "I know of one more remedy, and that is the water of lif=
e;
if he drinks of it he will become well again; but it is hard to find."=
The
eldest said, "I will manage to find it," and went to the sick Kin=
g,
and begged to be allowed to go forth in search of the water of life, for th=
at
alone could save him. "No," said the King, "the danger of it=
is
too great. I would rather die." But he begged so long that the King
consented. The prince thought in his heart, "If I bring the water, the=
n I
shall be best beloved of my father, and shall inherit the kingdom." So=
he
set out, and when he had ridden forth a little distance, a dwarf stood ther=
e in
the road who called to him and said, "Whither away so fast?"
"Silly shrimp," said the prince, very haughtily, "it is noth=
ing
to do with you," and rode on. But the little dwarf had grown angry, and
had wished an evil wish. Soon after this the prince entered a ravine, and t=
he
further he rode the closer the mountains drew together, and at last the road
became so narrow that he could not advance a step further; it was impossible
either to turn his horse or to dismount from the saddle, and he was shut in
there as if in prison. The sick King waited long for him, but he came not. =
Then
the second son said, "Father, let me go forth to seek the water,"=
and
thought to himself, "If my brother is dead, then the kingdom will fall=
to
me." At first the King would not allow him to go either, but at last h=
e yielded,
so the prince set out on the same road that his brother had taken, and he t=
oo
met the dwarf, who stopped him to ask, whither he was going in such haste?
"Little shrimp," said the prince, "that is nothing to
thee," and rode on without giving him another look. But the dwarf
bewitched him, and he, like the other, rode into a ravine, and could neithe=
r go
forwards nor backwards. So fare haughty people.
As the
second son also remained away, the youngest begged to be allowed to go fort=
h to
fetch the water, and at last the King was obliged to let him go. When he met
the dwarf and the latter asked him whither he was going in such haste, he
stopped, gave him an explanation, and said, "I am seeking the water of
life, for my father is sick unto death." "Dost thou know, then, w=
here
that is to be found?"
"No," said the prince. "As thou hast borne thyself as=
is
seemly, and not haughtily like thy false brothers, I will give thee the
information and tell thee how thou mayst obtain the water of life. It sprin=
gs
from a fountain in the courtyard of an enchanted castle, but thou wilt not =
be
able to make thy way to it, if I do not give thee an iron wand and two small
loaves of bread. Strike thrice with the wand on the iron door of the castle=
and
it will spring open: inside lie two lions with gaping jaws, but if thou
throwest a loaf to each of them, they will be quieted. Then hasten to fetch
some of the water of life before the clock strikes twelve, else the door wi=
ll
shut again, and thou wilt be imprisoned." The prince thanked him, took=
the
wand and the bread, and set out on his way. When he arrived, everything was=
as
the dwarf had said. The door sprang open at the third stroke of the wand, a=
nd
when he had appeased the lions with the bread, he entered the castle, and c=
ame
to a large and splendid hall, wherein sat some enchanted princes whose ring=
s he
drew off their fingers. A sword and a loaf of bread were lying there, which=
he
carried away. After this, he entered a chamber, in which was a beautiful ma=
iden
who rejoiced when she saw him, kissed him, and told him that he had deliver=
ed
her, and should have the whole of her kingdom, and that if he would return =
in a
year their wedding should be celebrated; likewise she told him where the sp=
ring
of the water of life was, and that he was to hasten and draw some of it bef=
ore
the clock struck twelve. Then he went onwards, and at last entered a room w=
here
there was a beautiful newly-made bed, and as he was very weary, he felt
inclined to rest a little. So he lay down and fell asleep. When he awoke, it
was striking a quarter to twelve. He sprang up in a fright, ran to the spri=
ng,
drew some water in a cup which stood near, and hastened away. But just as he
was passing through the iron door, the clock struck twelve, and the door fe=
ll
to with such violence that it carried away a piece of his heel. He, however,
rejoicing at having obtained the water of life, went homewards, and again
passed the dwarf. When the latter saw the sword and the loaf, he said,
"With these thou hast won great wealth; with the sword thou canst slay
whole armies, and the bread will never come to an end." But the prince
would not go home to his father without his brothers, and said, "Dear
dwarf, canst thou not tell me where my two brothers are? They went out befo=
re I
did in search of the water of life, and have not returned." "They=
are
imprisoned between two mountains," said the dwarf. "I have condem=
ned
them to stay there, because they were so haughty." Then the prince beg=
ged until
the dwarf released them; but he warned him, however, and said, "Beware=
of
them, for they have bad hearts." When his brothers came, he rejoiced, =
and
told them how things had gone with him, that he had found the water of life=
and
had brought a cupful away with him, and had rescued a beautiful princess, w=
ho
was willing to wait a year for him, and then their wedding was to be celebr=
ated
and he would obtain a great kingdom. After that they rode on together, and
chanced upon a land where war and famine reigned, and the King already thou=
ght
he must perish, for the scarcity was so great. Then the prince went to him =
and
gave him the loaf, wherewith he fed and satisfied the whole of his kingdom,=
and
then the prince gave him the sword also wherewith he slew the hosts of his
enemies, and could now live in rest and peace. The prince then took back his
loaf and his sword, and the three brothers rode on. But after this they ent=
ered
two more countries where war and famine reigned and each time the prince ga=
ve
his loaf and his sword to the Kings, and had now delivered three kingdoms, =
and
after that they went on board a ship and sailed over the sea. During the passage, the two eldest
conversed apart and said, "The youngest has found the water of life and
not we, for that our father will give him the kingdom the kingdom which bel=
ongs
to us, and he will rob us of all our fortune." They then began to seek
revenge, and plotted with each other to destroy him. They waited until they
found him fast asleep, then they poured the water of life out of the cup, a=
nd took
it for themselves, but into the cup they poured salt sea-water. Now therefo=
re,
when they arrived home, the youngest took his cup to the sick King in order
that he might drink out of it, and be cured. But scarcely had he drunk a ve=
ry
little of the salt sea-water than he became still worse than before. And as=
he
was lamenting over this, the two eldest brothers came, and accused the youn=
gest
of having intended to poison him, and said that they had brought him the tr=
ue
water of life, and handed it to him. He had scarcely tasted it, when he felt
his sickness departing, and became strong and healthy as in the days of his
youth. After that they both w=
ent to
the youngest, mocked him, and said, "You certainly found the water of
life, but you have had the pain, and we the gain; you should have been shar=
per,
and should have kept your eyes open. We took it from you whilst you were as=
leep
at sea, and when a year is over, one of us will go and fetch the beautiful
princess. But beware that you do not disclose aught of this to our father;
indeed he does not trust you, and if you say a single word, you shall lose =
your
life into the bargain, but if you keep silent, you shall have it as a
gift."
The
old King was angry with his youngest son, and thought he had plotted against
his life. So he summoned the court together and had sentence pronounced upon
his son, that he should be secretly shot. And once when the prince was ridi=
ng
forth to the chase, suspecting no evil, the King's huntsman had to go with =
him,
and when they were quite alone in the forest, the huntsman looked so sorrow=
ful
that the prince said to him, "Dear huntsman, what ails you?" The huntsman said, "I cannot =
tell
you, and yet I ought." Then the prince said, "Say openly what it =
is,
I will pardon you." "Alas!" said the huntsman, "I am to
shoot you dead, the King has ordered me to do it." Then the prince was
shocked, and said, "Dear huntsman, let me live; there, I give you my r=
oyal
garments; give me your common ones in their stead." The huntsman said,
"I will willingly do that, indeed I should not have been able to shoot
you." Then they exchanged clothes, and the huntsman returned home; the
prince, however, went further into the forest. After a time three waggons of
gold and precious stones came to the King for his youngest son, which were =
sent
by the three Kings who had slain their enemies with the prince's sword, and
maintained their people with his bread, and who wished to show their gratit=
ude
for it. The old King then thought, "Can my son have been innocent?&quo=
t;
and said to his people, "Would that he were still alive, how it grieve=
s me
that I have suffered him to be killed!" "He still lives," sa=
id
the huntsman, "I could not find it in my heart to carry out your comma=
nd,"
and told the King how it had happened. Then a stone fell from the King's he=
art,
and he had it proclaimed in every country that his son might return and be
taken into favour again.
The
princess, however, had a road made up to her palace which was quite bright =
and
golden, and told her people that whosoever came riding straight along it to
her, would be the right wooer and was to be admitted, and whoever rode by t=
he
side of it, was not the right one, and was not to be admitted. As the time =
was
now close at hand, the eldest thought he would hasten to go to the King's d=
aughter,
and give himself out as her deliverer, and thus win her for his bride, and =
the
kingdom to boot. Therefore he rode forth, and when he arrived in front of t=
he
palace, and saw the splendid golden road, he thought, it would be a sin and=
a
shame if he were to ride over that, and turned aside, and rode on the right
side of it. But when he came to the door, the servants told him that he was=
not
the right man, and was to go away again. Soon after this the second prince =
set
out, and when he came to the golden road, and his horse had put one foot on=
it,
he thought, it would be a sin and a shame to tread a piece of it off, and he
turned aside and rode on the left side of it, and when he reached the door,=
the
attendants told him he was not the right one, and he was to go away again.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> When at last the year had entirely
expired, the third son likewise wished to ride out of the forest to his
beloved, and with her forget his sorrows. So he set out and thought of her =
so
incessantly, and wished to be with her so much, that he never noticed the
golden road at all. So his horse rode onwards up the middle of it, and when=
he
came to the door, it was opened and the princess received him with joy, and=
said
he was her deliverer, and lord of the kingdom, and their wedding was celebr=
ated
with great rejoicing. When it was over she told him that his father invited=
him
to come to him, and had forgiven him. So he rode thither, and told him
everything; how his brothers had betrayed him, and how he had nevertheless =
kept
silence. The old King wished to punish them, but they had put to sea, and n=
ever
came back as long as they lived.
There
was once on a time a poor peasant called Crabb, who drove with two oxen a l=
oad
of wood to the town, and sold it to a doctor for two thalers. When the money
was being counted out to him, it so happened that the doctor was sitting at
table, and when the peasant saw how daintily he ate and drank, his heart
desired what he saw, and he would willingly have been a doctor too. So he
remained standing a while, and at length inquired if he too could not be a
doctor. "Oh, yes," =
said
the doctor, "that is soon managed." "What must I do?" a=
sked
the peasant. "In the first place buy thyself an A B C book of the kind
which has a cock on the frontispiece: in the second, turn thy cart and thy =
two
oxen into money, and get thyself some clothes, and whatsoever else pertains=
to
medicine; thirdly, have a sign painted for thyself with the words, "I =
am
Doctor Knowall," and have that nailed up above thy house-door." T=
he
peasant did everything that he had been told to do. When he had doctored pe=
ople
awhile, but not long, a rich and great lord had some money stolen. Then he =
was
told about Doctor Knowall who lived in such and such a village, and must kn=
ow
what had become of the money. So the lord had the horses put in his carriag=
e,
drove out to the village, and asked Crabb if he were Doctor Knowall? Yes, he
was, he said. Then he was to =
go
with him and bring back the stolen money. "Oh, yes, but Grethe, my wif=
e,
must go too." The lord was willing and let both of them have a seat in=
the
carriage, and they all drove away together. When they came to the nobleman's
castle, the table was spread, and Crabb was told to sit down and eat.
"Yes, but my wife, Grethe, too," said he, and he seated himself w=
ith
her at the table. And when the first servant came with a dish of delicate f=
are,
the peasant nudged his wife, and said, "Grethe, that was the first,&qu=
ot; meaning
that was the servant who brought the first dish. The servant, however, thou=
ght
he intended by that to say, "That is the first thief," and as he
actually was so, he was terrified, and said to his comrade outside, "T=
he
doctor knows all: we shall fare ill, he said I was the first." The sec=
ond
did not want to go in at all, but was forced. So when he went in with his d=
ish,
the peasant nudged his wife, and said, "Grethe, that is the second.&qu=
ot;
This servant was just as much alarmed, and he got out. The third did not fa=
re
better, for the peasant again said, "Grethe, that is the third." =
The
fourth had to carry in a dish that was covered, and the lord told the doctor
that he was to show his skill, and guess what was beneath the cover. The do=
ctor
looked at the dish, had no idea what to say, and cried, "Ah, poor
Crabb." When the lord heard that, he cried, "There! he knows it, =
he
knows who has the money!"
On
this the servants looked terribly uneasy, and made a sign to the doctor that
they wished him to step outside for a moment. When therefore he went out, a=
ll
four of them confessed to him that they had stolen the money, and said that
they would willingly restore it and give him a heavy sum into the bargain, =
if
he would not denounce them, for if he did they would be hanged. They led hi=
m to
the spot where the money was concealed. With this the doctor was satisfied,=
and
returned to the hall, sat down to the table, and said, "My lord, now w=
ill
I search in my book where the gold is hidden." The fifth servant, howe=
ver,
crept into the stove to hear if the doctor knew still more. The Doctor, how=
ever,
sat still and opened his A B C book, turned the pages backwards and forward=
s, and
looked for the cock. As he could not find it immediately he said, "I k=
now
you are there, so you had better show yourself." Then the fellow in the
stove thought that the doctor meant him, and full of terror, sprang out,
crying, "That man knows everything!" Then Dr. Knowall showed the
count where the money was, but did not say who had stolen it, and received =
from
both sides much money in reward, and became a renowned man.
There
was once a poor woodcutter who toiled from early morning till late night. When at last he had laid by some m=
oney
he said to his boy, "You are my only child, I will spend the money whi=
ch I
have earned with the sweat of my brow on your education; if you learn some
honest trade you can support me in my old age, when my limbs have grown sti=
ff
and I am obliged to stay at home." Then the boy went to a High School =
and learned
diligently so that his masters praised him, and he remained there a long ti=
me.
When he had worked through two classes, but was still not yet perfect in
everything, the little pittance which the father had earned was all spent, =
and
the boy was obliged to return home to him. "Ah," said the father,
sorrowfully, "I can give you no more, and in these hard times I cannot
earn a farthing more than will suffice for our daily bread." "Dear
father," answered the son, "don't trouble yourself about it, if i=
t is
God's will, it will turn to my advantage I shall soon accustom myself to
it." When the father wanted to go into the forest to earn money by hel=
ping
to pile and stack wood ans also chop it, the son said, "I will go with=
you
and help you." "Nay, my son," said the father, "that wo=
uld
be hard for you; you are not accustomed to rough work, and will not be able=
to
bear it, besides I have only one axe and no money left wherewith to buy
another." "Just go to the neighbour," answered the son, &quo=
t;he
will lend you his axe until I have earned one for myself." The father =
then
borrowed an axe of the neighbour, and next morning at break of day they went
out into the forest together. The son helped his father and was quite merry=
and
brisk about it. But when the sun was right over their heads, the father sai=
d,
"We will rest, and have our dinner, and then we shall work as well
again." The son took his bread in his hands, and said, "Just you
rest, father, I am not tired; I will walk up and down a little in the fores=
t,
and look for birds' nests." "Oh, you fool," said the father,
"why should you want to run about there? Afterwards you will be tired,=
and
no longer able to raise your arm; stay here, and sit down beside me." =
The
son, however, went into the forest, ate his bread, was very merry and peere=
d in
among the green branches to see if he could discover a bird's nest anywhere=
. So
he went up and down to see if he could find a bird's nest until at last he =
came
to a great dangerous-looking oak, which certainly was already many hundred
years old, and which five men could not have spanned. He stood still and lo=
oked
at it, and thought, "Many a bird must have built its nest in that.&quo=
t;
Then all at once it seemed to him that he heard a voice. He listened and be=
came
aware that someone was crying in a very smothered voice, "Let me out, =
let
me out!" He looked around, but could discover nothing; nevertheless, he
fancied that the voice came out of the ground. Then he cried, "Where a=
rt
thou?" The voice answered, "I am down here amongst the roots of t=
he
oak-tree. Let me out! Let me out!" The scholar began to loosen the ear=
th
under the tree, and search among the roots, until at last he found a glass
bottle in a little hollow. He lifted it up and held it against the light, a=
nd
then saw a creature shaped like a frog, springing up and down in it. "=
Let me
out! Let me out!" it cried anew, and the scholar thinking no evil, drew
the cork out of the bottle. Immediately a spirit ascended from it, and bega=
n to
grow, and grew so fast that in a very few moments he stood before the schol=
ar,
a terrible fellow as big as half the tree by which he was standing.
"Knowest thou," he cried in an awful voice, "what thy wages =
are
for having let me out?" "No," replied the scholar fearlessly=
, "how
should I know that?" "Then I will tell thee," cried the spir=
it; "I
must strangle thee for it." "Thou shouldst have told me that
sooner," said the scholar, "for I should then have left thee shut=
up,
but my head shall stand fast for all thou canst do; more persons than one m=
ust be
consulted about that."
"More persons here, more persons there," said the spirit.
"Thou shalt have the wages thou hast earned. Dost thou think that I was
shut up there for such a long time as a favour. No, it was a punishment for=
me.
I am the mighty Mercurius. Wh=
oso
releases me, him must I strangle." "Softly," answered the
scholar, "not so fast. I must first know that thou really wert shut up=
in
that little bottle, and that thou art the right spirit. If, indeed, thou ca=
nst
get in again, I will believe and then thou mayst do as thou wilt with me.&q=
uot;
The spirit said haughtily, "that is a very trifling feat," drew
himself together, and made himself as small and slender as he had been at
first, so that he crept through the same opening, and right through the nec=
k of
the bottle in again. Scarcely was he within than the scholar thrust the cor=
k he
had drawn back into the bottle, and threw it among the roots of the oak into
its old place, and the spirit was betrayed.
And
now the scolar was about to return to his father, but the spirit cried very
piteously, "Ah, do let me out! ah, do let me out!" "No,"=
; answered
the scholar, "not a second time! He who has once tried to take my life
shall not be set free by me, now that I have caught him again." "=
If thou
wilt set me free," said the spirit, "I will give thee so much tha=
t thou
wilt have plenty all the days of thy life." "No," answered t=
he
boy, "thou wouldst cheat me as thou didst the first time." "=
Thou
art playing away with thy own good luck," said the spirit; "I wil=
l do
thee no harm but will reward thee richly." The scholar thought, "=
I will
venture it, perhaps he will keep his word, and anyhow he shall not get the
better of me." Then he took out the cork, and the spirit rose up from =
the bottle
as he had done before, stretched himself out and became as big as a giant.
"Now thou shalt have thy reward," said he, and handed the scholar=
a
little bag just like a plaster, and said, "If thou spreadest one end of
this over a wound it will heal, and if thou rubbest steel or iron with the
other end it will be changed into silver." "I must just try that,=
"
said the scholar, and went to a tree, tore off the bark with his axe, and
rubbed it with one end of the plaster. It immediately closed together and w=
as
healed. "Now, it is all right," he said to the spirit, "and =
we
can part." The spirit thanked him for his release, and the boy thanked=
the
spirit for his present, and went back to his father.
"Where
hast thou been racing about?" said the father; "why hast thou for=
gotten
thy work? I said at once that thou wouldst never get on with anything."
"Be easy, father, I will make it up." "Make it up indeed,&qu=
ot; said
the father angrily, "there's no art in that." "Take care,
father, I will soon hew that tree there, so that it will split." Then he took his plaster, rubbed t=
he axe
with it, and dealt a mighty blow, but as the iron had changed into silver, =
the
edge turned; "Hollo, father, just look what a bad axe you've given me,=
it
has become quite crooked." The father was shocked and said, "Ah, =
what
hast thou done? now I shall have to pay for that, and have not the wherewit=
hal,
and that is all the good I have got by thy work." "Don't get
angry," said the son, "I will soon pay for the axe." "O=
h,
thou blockhead," cried the father, "wherewith wilt thou pay for i=
t?
Thou hast nothing but what I give thee. These are students' tricks that are
sticking in thy head, but thou hast no idea of wood-cutting." After a
while the scholar said, "Father, I can really work no more, we had bet=
ter
take a holiday." "Eh, what!" answered he, "Dost thou th=
ink
I will sit with my hands lying in my lap like thee? I must go on working, b=
ut
thou mayst take thyself off home." "Father, I am here in this wood
for the first time, I don't know my way alone. Do go with me." As his
anger had now abated, the father at last let himself be persuaded and went =
home
with him. Then he said to the son, "Go and sell thy damaged axe, and s=
ee
what thou canst get for it, and I must earn the difference, in order to pay=
the
neighbour." The son took the axe, and carried it into town to a goldsm=
ith,
who tested it, laid it in the scales, and said, "It is worth four hund=
red
thalers, I have not so much as that by me." The son said, "Give me
what thou hast, I will lend you the rest." The goldsmith gave him three
hundred thalers, and remained a hundred in his debt. The son thereupon went
home and said, "Father, I have got the money, go and ask the neighbour
what he wants for the axe." "I know that already," answered =
the
old man, "one thaler, six groschen." "Then give him him two
thalers, twelve groschen, that is double and enough; see, I have money in
plenty," and he gave the father a hundred thalers, and said, "You
shall never know want, live as comfortably as you like." "Good
heavens!" said the father, "how hast thou come by these riches?&q=
uot;
The scholar then told how all had come to pass, and how he, trusting in his
luck, had made such a good hit. But with the money that was left, he went b=
ack
to the High School and went on learning more, and as he could heal all woun=
ds
with his plaster, he became the most famous doctor in the whole world.
A
disbanded soldier had nothing to live on, and did not know how to get on. S=
o he
went out into the forest and when he had walked for a short time, he met a
little man who was, however, the Devil. The little man said to him, "W=
hat
ails you, you seem so very sorrowful?" Then the soldier said, "I =
am
hungry, but have no money." The Devil said, "If you will hire
yourself to me, and be my serving-man, you shall have enough for all your l=
ife?
You shall serve me for seven years, and after that you shall again be free.=
But
one thing I must tell you, and that is, you must not wash, comb, or trim
yourself, or cut your hair or nails, or wipe the water from your eyes."
The soldier said, "All right, if there is no help for it," and we=
nt
off with the little man, who straightway led him down into hell. Then he told him what he had to do=
. He
was to poke the fire under the kettles wherein the hell-broth was stewing, =
keep
the house clean, drive all the sweepings behind the doors, and see that eve=
rything
was in order, but if he once peeped into the kettles, it would go ill with =
him.
The soldier said, "Good, I will take care." And then the old Devil
went out again on his wanderings, and the soldier entered upon his new duti=
es,
made the fire, and swept the dirt well behind the doors, just as he had been
bidden. When the old Devil came back again, he looked to see if all had been
done, appeared satisfied, and went forth a second time. The soldier now too=
k a
good look on every side; the kettles were standing all round hell with a mi=
ghty
fire below them, and inside they were boiling and sputtering. He would have
given anything to look inside them, if the Devil had not so particularly
forbidden him: at last, he could no longer restrain himself, slightly raised
the lid of the first kettle, and peeped in, and there he saw his former
corporal shut in. "Aha, old bird!" said he, "Do I meet you h=
ere?
You once had me in your power, now I have you," and he quickly let the=
lid
fall, poked the fire, and added a fresh log. After that, he went to the sec=
ond
kettle, raised its lid also a little, and peeped in; his former ensign was =
in that.
"Aha, old bird, so I find you here! you once had me in your power, now=
I
have you." He closed the lid again, and fetched yet another log to mak=
e it
really hot. Then he wanted to see who might be sitting up in the third kett=
le
it was actually be but a general. "Aha, old bird, do I meet you here? =
Once
you had me in your power, now I have you." And he fetched the bellows =
and
made hell-fire blaze right under him. So he did his work seven years in hel=
l,
did not wash, comb, or trim himself, or cut his hair or nails, or wash the
water out of his eyes, and the seven years seemed so short to him that he
thought he had only been half a year. Now when the time had fully gone by, =
the
Devil came and said, "Well Hans, what have you done?" "I pok=
ed
the fire under the kettles, and I have swept all the dirt well behind the
doors."
"But
you have peeped into the kettles as well; it is lucky for you that you added
fresh logs to them, or else your life would have been forfeited; now that y=
our
time is up, will you go home again?" "Yes," said the soldier,
"I should very much like to see what my father is doing at home."=
The
Devil said, "In order that you may receive the wages you have earned, =
go
and fill your knapsack full of the sweepings, and take it home with you. You
must also go unwashed and uncombed, with long hair on your head and beard, =
and
with uncut nails and dim eyes, and when you are asked whence you come, you =
must
say, "From hell," and when you are asked who you are, you are to =
say,
"The Devil's sooty brother, and my King as well." The soldier held
his peace, and did as the Devil bade him, but he was not at all satisfied w=
ith
his wages. Then as soon as he was up in the forest again, he took his knaps=
ack
from his back, to empty it, but on opening it, the sweepings had become pure
gold. "I should never have expected that," said he, and was well =
pleased,
and entered the town. The landlord was standing in front of the inn, and wh=
en
he saw the soldier approaching, he was terrified, because Hans looked so
horrible, worse than a scare-crow. He called to him and asked, "Whence
comest thou?" "From hell." "Who art thou?" "T=
he Devil's
sooty brother, and my King as well." Then the host would not let him
enter, but when Hans showed him the gold, he came and unlatched the door
himself. Hans then ordered the best room and attendance, ate, and drank his
fill, but neither washed nor combed himself as the Devil had bidden him, an=
d at
last lay down to sleep. But the knapsack full of gold remained before the e=
yes
of the landlord, and left him no peace, and during the night he crept in and
stole it away. Next morning, however, when Hans got up and wanted to pay th=
e landlord
and travel further, behold his knapsack was gone! But he soon composed hims=
elf
and thought, "Thou hast been unfortunate from no fault of thine own,&q=
uot;
and straightway went back again to hell, complained of his misfortune to the
old Devil, and begged for his help. The Devil said, "Seat yourself, I =
will
wash, comb, and trim you, cut your hair and nails, and wash your eyes for
you," and when he had done with him, he gave him the knapsack back aga=
in
full of sweepings, and said, "Go and tell the landlord that he must re=
turn
you your money, or else I will come and fetch him, and he shall poke the fi=
re
in your place." Hans went up and said to the landlord, "Thou hast=
stolen
my money; if thou dost not return it, thou shalt go down to hell in my plac=
e,
and wilt look as horrible as I." Then the landlord gave him the money,=
and
more besides, only begging him to keep it secret, and Hans was now a rich m=
an.
He set
out on his way home to his father, bought himself a shabby smock-frock to w=
ear,
and strolled about making music, for he had learned to do that while he was
with the Devil in hell. There was however, an old King in that country, bef=
ore
whom he had to play, and the King was so delighted with his playing, that he
promised him his eldest daughter in marriage. But when she heard that she w=
as
to be married to a common fellow in a smock-frock, she said, "Rather t=
han
do that, I would go into the deepest water." Then the King gave him the
youngest, who was quite willing to do it to please her father, and thus the=
Devil's
sooty brother got the King's daughter, and when the aged King died, the who=
le kingdom
likewise.
THERE
was once a young fellow who enlisted as a soldier, conducted himself bravel=
y,
and was always the foremost when it rained bullets. So long as the war last=
ed,
all went well, but when peace was made, he received his dismissal, and the
captain said he might go where he liked. His parents were dead, and he had =
no
longer a home, so he went to his brothers and begged them to take him in, a=
nd
keep him until war broke out again. The brothers, however, were hard-hearted
and said, "What can we do with thee? thou art of no use to us; go and =
make
a living for thyself." The soldier had nothing left but his gun; he to=
ok
that on his shoulder, and went forth into the world. He came to a wide heat=
h,
on which nothing was to be seen but a circle of trees; under these he sat
sorrowfully down, and began to think over his fate. "I have no
money," thought he, "I have learnt no trade but that of fighting,=
and
now that they have made peace they don't want me any longer; so I see
beforehand that I shall have to starve." All at once he heard a rustli=
ng,
and when he looked round, a strange man stood before him, who wore a green =
coat
and looked right stately, but had a hideous cloven foot. "I know already what thou art=
in
need of," said the man; "gold and possessions shall thou have, as
much as thou canst make away with do what thou wilt, but first I must know =
if
thou art fearless, that I may not bestow my money in vain." "A
soldier and fear -- how can those two things go together?" he answered=
; "thou
canst put me to the proof." "Very well, then," answered the =
man,
"look behind thee." The soldier turned round, and saw a large bea=
r, which
came growling towards him. "Oho!" cried the soldier, "I will
tickle thy nose for thee, so that thou shalt soon lose thy fancy for
growling," and he aimed at the bear and shot it through the muzzle; it
fell down and never stirred again. "I see quite well," said the
stranger, "that thou art not wanting in courage, but there is still
another condition which thou wilt have to fulfil." "If it does not
endanger my salvation," replied the soldier, who knew very well who was
standing by him. "If it does, I'll have nothing to do with it."
"Thou wilt look to that for thyself," answered Greencoat; "t=
hou
shalt for the next seven years neither wash thyself, nor comb thy beard, nor
thy hair, nor cut thy nails, nor say one paternoster. I will give thee a co=
at
and a cloak, which during this time thou must wear. If thou diest during th=
ese
seven years, thou art mine; if thou remainest alive, thou art free, and ric=
h to
boot, for all the rest of thy life." The soldier thought of the great
extremity in which he now found himself, and as he so often had gone to meet
death, he resolved to risk it now also, and agreed to the terms. The Devil =
took
off his green coat, gave it to the soldier, and said, "If thou hast th=
is coat
on thy back and puttest thy hand into the pocket, thou wilt always find it =
full
of money." Then he pulled the skin off the bear and said, "This s=
hall
be thy cloak, and thy bed also, for thereon shalt thou sleep, and in no oth=
er
bed shalt thou lie, and because of this apparel shalt thou be called
Bearskin." After this the Devil vanished.
The
soldier put the coat on, felt at once in the pocket, and found that the thi=
ng
was really true. Then he put on the bearskin and went forth into the world,=
and
enjoyed himself, refraining from nothing that did him good and his money
harm. During the first year h=
is
appearance was passable, but during the second he began to look like a mons=
ter.
His hair covered nearly the whole of his face, his beard was like a piece of
coarse felt, his fingers had claws, and his face was so covered with dirt t=
hat
if cress had been sown on it, it would have come up. Whosoever saw him, ran
away, but as he everywhere gave the poor money to pray that he might not die
during the seven years, and as he paid well for everything he still always
found shelter. In the fourth year, he entered an inn where the landlord wou=
ld
not receive him, and would not even let him have a place in the stable, bec=
ause
he was afraid the horses would be scared. But as Bearskin thrust his hand i=
nto
his pocket and pulled out a handful of ducats, the host let himself be
persuaded and gave him a room in an outhouse. Bearskin was, however, oblige=
d to
promise not to let himself be seen, lest the inn should get a bad name.
As
Bearskin was sitting alone in the evening, and wishing from the bottom of h=
is
heart that the seven years were over, he heard a loud lamenting in a
neighboring room. He had a compassionate heart, so he opened the door, and =
saw
an old man weeping bitterly, and wringing his hands. Bearskin went nearer, =
but
the man sprang to his feet and tried to escape from him. At last when the m=
an
perceived that Bearskin's voice was human he let himself be prevailed on, a=
nd
by kind words bearskin succeeded so far that the old man revealed the cause=
of
his grief. His property had d=
windled
away by degrees, he and his daughters would have to starve, and he was so p=
oor
that he could not pay the innkeeper, and was to be put in prison. "If =
that
is your only trouble," said Bearskin, "I have plenty of money.&qu=
ot;
He caused the innkeeper to be brought thither, paid him and put a purse ful=
l of
gold into the poor old man's pocket besides.
When
the old man saw himself set free from all his troubles he did not know how =
to
be grateful enough. "Come with me," said he to Bearskin; "my
daughters are all miracles of beauty, choose one of them for thyself as a w=
ife.
When she hears what thou hast done for me, she will not refuse thee. Thou d=
ost
in truth look a little strange, but she will soon put thee to rights
again." This pleased Bearskin well, and he went. When the eldest saw h=
im
she was so terribly alarmed at his face that she screamed and ran away. The
second stood still and looked at him from head to foot, but then she said,
"How can I accept a husband who no longer has a human form? The shaven
bear that once was here and passed itself off for a man pleased me far bett=
er,
for at any rate it wore a hussar's dress and white gloves. If it were nothi=
ng
but ugliness, I might get used to that." The youngest, however, said,
"Dear father, that must be a good man to have helped you out of your
trouble, so if you have promised him a bride for doing it, your promise mus=
t be
kept." It was a pity that Bearskin's face was covered with dirt and wi=
th
hair, for if not they might have seen how delighted he was when he heard th=
ese
words. He took a ring from his finger, broke it in two, and gave her one ha=
lf,
the other he kept for himself. He wrote his name, however, on her half, and
hers on his, and begged her to keep her piece carefully, and then he took h=
is
leave and said, "I must still wander about for three years, and if I do
not return then, thou art free, for I shall be dead. But pray to God to
preserve my life."
The
poor betrothed bride dressed herself entirely in black, and when she though=
t of
her future bridegroom, tears came into her eyes. Nothing but contempt and
mockery fell to her lot from her sisters. "Take care," said the
eldest, "if thou givest him thy hand, he will strike his claws into it=
."
"Beware!" said the second.
"Bears like sweet things, and if he takes a fancy to thee, he w=
ill
eat thee up." "Thou=
must
always do as he likes," began the elder again, "or else he will
growl." And the second
continued, "But the wedding will be a merry one, for bears dance
well." The bride was silent, and did not let them vex her. Bearskin,
however, travelled about the world from one place to another, did good wher=
e he
was able, and gave generously to the poor that they might pray for him.
At
length, as the last day of the seven years dawned, he went once more out on=
to
the heath, and seated himself beneath the circle of trees. It was not long
before the wind whistled, and the Devil stood before him and looked angrily=
at
him; then he threw Bearskin his old coat, and asked for his own green one
back. "We have not got s=
o far
as that yet," answered Bearskin, "thou must first make me
clean." Whether the Devil liked it or not, he was forced to fetch wate=
r,
and wash Bearskin, comb his hair, and cut his nails. After this, he looked =
like
a brave soldier, and was much handsomer than he had ever been before.
When
the Devil had gone away, Bearskin was quite lighthearted. He went into the
town, put on a magnificent velvet coat, seated himself in a carriage drawn =
by
four white horses, and drove to his bride's house. No one recognized him, t=
he
father took him for a distinguished general, and led him into the room where
his daughters were sitting. He was forced to place himself between the two
eldest, they helped him to wine, gave him the best pieces of meat, and thou=
ght
that in all the world they had never seen a handsomer man. The bride, howev=
er,
sat opposite to him in her black dress, and never raised her eyes, nor spok=
e a
word. When at length he asked=
the
father if he would give him one of his daughters to wife, the two eldest ju=
mped
up, ran into their bedrooms to put on splendid dresses, for each of them
fancied she was the chosen one. The stranger, as soon as he was alone with =
his
bride, brought out his half of the ring, and threw it in a glass of wine wh=
ich he
reached across the table to her. She took the wine, but when she had drunk =
it,
and found the half ring lying at the bottom, her heart began to beat. She g=
ot
the other half, which she wore on a ribbon round her neck, joined them, and=
saw
that the two pieces fitted exactly together. Then said he, "I am thy b=
etrothed
bridegroom, whom thou sawest as Bearskin, but through God's grace I have ag=
ain
received my human form, and have once more become clean." He went up to
her, embraced her, and gave her a kiss. In the meantime the two sisters came
back in full dress, and when they saw that the handsome man had fallen to t=
he
share of the youngest, and heard that he was Bearskin, they ran out full of
anger and rage. One of them drowned herself in the well, the other hanged
herself on a tree. In the evening, some one knocked at the door, and when t=
he bridegroom
opened it, it was the Devil in his green coat, who said, "Seest thou, I
have now got two souls in the place of thy one!"
ONCE
in summer-time the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest, and the be=
ar
heard a bird singing so beautifully that he said, "Brother wolf, what =
bird
is it that sings so well?" "That is the King of birds," said=
the
wolf, "before whom we must bow down." It was, however, in reality=
the
willow-wren (Zaunkönig). "If that's the case," said the bear,
"I should very much like to see his royal palace; come, take me thithe=
r."
"That is not done quite as you seem to think," said the wolf; &qu=
ot;you
must wait until the Queen comes." Soon afterwards, the Queen arrived w=
ith
some food in her beak, and the lord King came too, and they began to feed t=
heir
young ones. The bear would have liked to go at once, but the wolf held him =
back
by the sleeve, and said, "No, you must wait until the lord and lady Qu=
een
have gone away again." So they observed the hole in which was the nest,
and trotted away. The bear, however, could not rest until he had seen the r=
oyal
palace, and when a short time had passed, again went to it. The King and Qu=
een
had just flown out, so he peeped in and saw five or six young ones lying in=
it.
"Is that the royal palace?" cried the bear; "it is a wretched
palace, and you are not King's children, you are disreputable children!&quo=
t;
When the young wrens heard that, they were frightfully angry, and screamed,
"No, that we are not! Our parents are honest people! Bear, thou wilt h=
ave
to pay for that!"
The
bear and the wolf grew uneasy, and turned back and went into their holes. The young willow-wrens, however,
continued to cry and scream, and when their parents again brought food they
said, "We will not so much as touch one fly's leg, no, not if we were
dying of hunger, until you have settled whether we are respectable children=
or
not; the bear has been here and has insulted us!" Then the old King sa=
id,
"Be easy, he shall be punished," and he at once flew with the Que=
en
to the bear's cave, and called in, "Old Growler, why hast thou insulte=
d my
children? Thou shalt suffer for it we will punish thee by a bloody war.&quo=
t;
Thus war was announced to the Bear, and all four-footed animals were summon=
ed
to take part in it, oxen, asses, cows, deer, and every other animal the ear=
th
contained. And the willow-wren
summoned everything which flew in the air, not only birds, large and small,=
but
midges, and hornets, bees and flies had to come.
When
the time came for the war to begin, the willow-wren sent out spies to disco=
ver
who was the enemy's commander-in-chief. The gnat, who was the most crafty, =
flew
into the forest where the enemy was assembled, and hid herself beneath a le=
af
of the tree where the watchword was to be given. There stood the bear, and =
he
called the fox before him and said, "Fox, thou art the most cunning of=
all
animals, thou shalt be general and lead us." "Good," said the
fox, "but what signal shall we agree upon?" No one knew that, so =
the
fox said, "I have a fine long bushy tail, which almost looks like a pl=
ume
of red feathers. When I lift my tail up quite high, all is going well, and =
you
must charge; but if I let it hang down, run away as fast as you can." =
When
the gnat had heard that, she flew away again, and revealed everything, with=
the
greatest minuteness, to the willow-wren.&n=
bsp;
When day broke, and the battle was to begin, all the four-footed ani=
mals
came running up with such a noise that the earth trembled. The willow-wren =
also
came flying through the air with his army with such a humming, and whirring,
and swarming that every one was uneasy and afraid, and on both sides they
advanced against each other. But the willow-wren sent down the hornet, with
orders to get beneath the fox's tail, and sting with all his might. When the
fox felt the first sting, he started so that he drew up one leg, with the p=
ain,
but he bore it, and still kept his tail high in the air; at the second stin=
g,
he was forced to put it down for a moment; at the third, he could hold out =
no longer,
and screamed out and put his tail between his legs. When the animals saw th=
at,
they thought all was lost, and began to fly, each into his hole and the bir=
ds
had won the battle.
Then
the King and Queen flew home to their children and cried, "Children,
rejoice, eat and drink to your heart's content, we have won the battle!&quo=
t;
But the young wrens said, "We will not eat yet, the bear must come to =
the
nest, and beg for pardon and say that we are honorable children, before we =
will
do that." Then the willow-wren flew to the bear's hole and cried,
"Growler, thou art to come to the nest to my children, and beg their
pardon, or else every rib of thy body shall be broken." So the bear cr=
ept
thither in the greatest fear, and begged their pardon. And now at last the
young wrens were satisfied, and sat down together and ate and drank, and ma=
de
merry till quite late into the night.
THERE
was a poor but good little girl who lived alone with her mother, and they no
longer had anything to eat. So the child went into the forest, and there an
aged woman met her who was aware of her sorrow, and presented her with a li=
ttle
pot, which when she said, "Cook, little pot, cook," would cook go=
od,
sweet porridge, and when she said, "Stop, little pot," it ceased =
to
cook. The girl took the pot home to her mother, and now they were freed from
their poverty and hunger, and ate sweet porridge as often as they chose. On=
ce
on a time when the girl had gone out, her mother said, "Cook, little p=
ot,
cook." And it did cook and she ate till she was satisfied, and then she
wanted the pot to stop cooking, but did not know the word. So it went on
cooking and the porridge rose over the edge, and still it cooked on until t=
he
kitchen and whole house were full, and then the next house, and then the wh=
ole
street, just as if it wanted to satisfy the hunger of the whole world, and
there was the greatest distress, but no one knew how to stop it. At last wh=
en only
one single house remained, the child came home and just said, "Stop,
little pot," and it stopped and gave up cooking, and whosoever wished =
to
return to the town had to eat his way back.
ONE
day a peasant took his good hazel-stick out of the corner and said to his w=
ife,
"Trina, I am going across country, and shall not return for three days=
. If
during that time the cattle-dealer should happen to call and want to buy our
three cows, you may strike a bargain at once, but not unless you can get two
hundred thalers for them; nothing less, do you hear?" "For heaven=
's
sake just go in peace," answered the woman, "I will manage
that." "You, indeed," said the man. "You once fell on your head w=
hen
you were a little child, and that affects you even now; but let me tell you
this, if you do anything foolish, I will make your back black and blue, and=
not
with paint, I assure you, but with the stick which I have in my hand, and t=
he
colouring shall last a whole year, you may rely on that." And having said that, the man went=
on
his way.
Next
morning the cattle-dealer came, and the woman had no need to say many words=
to
him. When he had seen the cows and heard the price, he said, "I am qui=
te
willing to give that, honestly speaking, they are worth it. I will take the
beasts away with me at once." He unfastened their chains and drove them
out of the byre, but just as he was going out of the yard-door, the woman
clutched him by the sleeve and said, "You must give me the two hundred
thalers now, or I cannot let the cows go." "True," answered =
the
man, "but I have forgotten to buckle on my money-belt. Have no fear,
however, you shall have security for my paying. I will take two cows with me
and leave one, and then you will have a good pledge." The woman saw the
force of this, and let the man go away with the cows, and thought to hersel=
f,
"How pleased Hans will be when he finds how cleverly I have managed
it!" The peasant came home on the third day as he had said he would, a=
nd
at once inquired if the cows were sold? "Yes, indeed, dear Hans,"
answered the woman, "and as you said, for two hundred thalers. They are
scarcely worth so much, but the man took them without making any
objection." "Where is the money?" asked the peasant. "O=
h, I
have not got the money," replied the woman; "he had happened to
forget his money-belt, but he will soon bring it, and he left good security
behind him." "What kind of security?" asked the man. "One of the th=
ree
cows, which he shall not have until he has paid for the other two. I have m=
anaged
very cunningly, for I have kept the smallest, which eats the least." T=
he
man was enraged and lifted up his stick, and was just going to give her the
beating he had promised her. Suddenly he let the stick fail and said, "=
;You
are the stupidest goose that ever waddled on God's earth, but I am sorry for
you. I will go out into the highways and wait for three days to see if I fi=
nd
anyone who is still stupider than you. If I succeed in doing so, you shall =
go
scot-free, but if I do not find him, you shall receive your well-deserved
reward without any discount."
He
went out into the great highways, sat down on a stone, and waited for what
would happen. Then he saw a peasant's waggon coming towards him, and a woman
was standing upright in the middle of it, instead of sitting on the bundle =
of
straw which was lying beside her, or walking near the oxen and leading
them. The man thought to hims=
elf,
"That is certainly one of the kind I am in search of," and jumped=
up
and ran backwards and forwards in front of the waggon like one who is not v=
ery
wise. "What do you want, my friend?" said the woman to him; "=
;I
don't know you, where do you come from?" "I have fallen down from
heaven," replied the man, "and don't know how to get back again,
couldn't you drive me up?" "No," said the woman, "I don=
't
know the way, but if you come from heaven you can surely tell me how my
husband, who has been there these three years is. You must have seen him?&q=
uot;
"Oh, yes, I have seen him, but all men can't get on well. He keeps she=
ep,
and the sheep give him a great deal to do. They run up the mountains and lo=
se
their way in the wilderness, and he has to run after them and drive them
together again. His clothes are all torn to pieces too, and will soon fall =
off
his body. There is no tailor there, for Saint Peter won't let any of them i=
n,
as you know by the story." "Who would have thought it?" cried
the woman, "I tell you what, I will fetch his Sunday coat which is sti=
ll
hanging at home in the cupboard, he can wear that and look respectable. You
will be so kind as to take it with you." "That won't do very
well," answered the peasant; "people are not allowed to take clot=
hes
into Heaven, they are taken away from one at the gate." "Then hark you," said the
woman, "I sold my fine wheat yesterday and got a good lot of money for=
it,
I will send that to him. If you hide the purse in your pocket, no one will =
know
that you have it." "If you can't manage it any other way," s=
aid
the peasant, "I will do you that favor." "Just sit still whe=
re
you are," said she, "and I will drive home and fetch the purse, I
shall soon be back again. I do not sit down on the bundle of straw, but sta=
nd
up in the waggon, because it makes it lighter for the cattle." She dro=
ve
her oxen away, and the peasant thought, "That woman has a perfect tale=
nt
for folly, if she really brings the money, my wife may think herself fortun=
ate,
for she will get no beating." It was not long before she came in a gre=
at hurry
with the money, and with her own hands put it in his pocket. Before she went
away, she thanked him again a thousand times for his courtesy.
When
the woman got home again, she found her son who had come in from the field.=
She
told him what unlooked-for things had befallen her, and then added, "I=
am
truly delighted at having found an opportunity of sending something to my p=
oor
husband. Who would ever have imagined that he could be suffering for want of
anything up in heaven?" The son was full of astonishment.
"Mother," said he, "it is not every day that a man comes from
Heaven in this way, I will go out immediately, and see if he is still to be
found; he must tell me what it is like up there, and how the work is
done." He saddled the horse and rode off with all speed. He found the
peasant who was sitting under a willow-tree, and was just going to count the
money in the purse. "Have you seen the man who has fallen down from
Heaven?" cried the youth to him. "Yes," answered the peasant,
"he has set out on his way back there, and has gone up that hill, from
whence it will be rather nearer; you could still catch him up, if you were =
to ride
fast." "Alas," said the youth, "I have been doing tiring
work all day, and the ride here has completely worn me out; you know the ma=
n,
be so kind as to get on my horse, and go and persuade him to come here.&quo=
t;
"Aha!" thought the peasant, "here is another who has no wick=
in
his lamp!" "Why should I not do you this favor?" said he, and mounted the horse and=
rode
off in a quick trot. The youth remained sitting there till night fell, but =
the
peasant never came back. "The man from Heaven must certainly have been=
in
a great hurry, and would not turn back," thought he, "and the pea=
sant
has no doubt given him the horse to take to my father." He went home a=
nd
told his mother what had happened, and that he had sent his father the hors=
e so
that he might not have to be always running about. "Thou hast done well,"
answered she, "thy legs are younger than his, and thou canst go on
foot."
When
the peasant got home, he put the horse in the stable beside the cow which he
had as a pledge, and then went to his wife and said, "Trina, as your l=
uck
would have it, I have found two who are still sillier fools than you; this =
time
you escape without a beating, I will store it up for another occasion."
Then he lighted his pipe, sat down in his grandfather's chair, and said,
"It was a good stroke of business to get a sleek horse and a great pur=
se
full of money into the bargain, for two lean cows. If stupidity always brou=
ght
in as much as that, I would be quite willing to hold it in honor." So
thought the peasant, but you no doubt prefer the simple folks.
There
was once a little child whose mother gave her every afternoon a small bowl =
of
milk and bread, and the child seated herself in the yard with it. When she
began to eat however, a snake came creeping out of a crevice in the wall,
dipped its little head in the dish, and ate with her. The child had pleasur=
e in
this, and when she was sitting there with her little dish and the snake did=
not
come at once, she cried,
"Snake, snake, come swiftly Hither come, thou tiny thing,
Thou shalt have thy crumbs of bread=
, Thou shalt refresh thyself with
milk."
Then
the snake came in haste, and enjoyed its food. Moreover it showed gratitude,
for it brought the child all kinds of pretty things from its hidden treasur=
es,
bright stones, pearls, and golden playthings. The snake, however, only drank
the milk, and left the bread-crumbs alone. Then one day the child took its
little spoon and struck the snake gently on its head with it, and said,
"Eat the bread-crumbs as well, little thing." The mother, who was
standing in the kitchen, heard the child talking to someone, and when she s=
aw
that she was striking a snake with her spoon, ran out with a log of wood, a=
nd
killed the good little creature.
From
that time forth, a change came over the child. As long as the snake had eat=
en
with her, she had grown tall and strong, but now she lost her pretty rosy
cheeks and wasted away. It was not long before the funeral bird began to cr=
y in
the night, and the redbreast to collect little branches and leaves for a
funeral garland, and soon afterwards the child lay on her bier.
An
orphan child was sitting on the town walls spinning, when she saw a snake
coming out of a hole low down in the wall. Swiftly she spread out beside th=
is
one of the blue silk handkerchiefs which snakes have such a strong liking f=
or,
and which are the only things they will creep on. As soon as the snake saw =
it,
it went back, then returned, bringing with it a small golden crown, laid it=
on the
handkerchief, and then went away again. The girl took up the crown, it
glittered and was of delicate golden filagree work. It was not long before =
the
snake came back for the second time, but when it no longer saw the crown, i=
t crept
up to the wall, and in its grief smote its little head against it as long a=
s it
had strength to do so, until at last it lay there dead. If the girl had but
left the crown where it was, the snake would certainly have brought still m=
ore
of its treasures out of the hole.
A
snake cries, "Huhu, huhu." A child says, "Come out." The
snake comes out, then the child inquires about her little sister: "Hast
thou not seen little Red-stockings?" The snake says, "No."
"Neither have I." "Then I am like you. Huhu, huhu, huhu."
In a
certain mill lived an old miller who had neither wife nor child, and three
apprentices served under him. As they had been with him several years, he o=
ne
day said to them, "I am old, and want to sit in the chimney-corner, go
out, and whichsoever of you brings me the best horse home, to him will I gi=
ve
the mill, and in return for it he shall take care of me till my death."
The third of the boys was, however, the drudge, who was looked on as foolis=
h by
the others; they begrudged the mill to him, and afterwards he would not have
it. Then all three went out together, and when they came to the village, the
two said to stupid Hans, "Thou mayst just as well stay here, as long as
thou livest thou wilt never get a horse." Hans, however, went with the=
m,
and when it was night they came to a cave in which they lay down to sleep. =
The two
sharp ones waited until Hans had fallen asleep, then they got up, and went =
away
leaving him where he was. And=
they
thought they had done a very clever thing, but it was certain to turn out i=
ll
for them. When the sun arose, and Hans woke up, he was lying in a deep cave=
rn.
He looked around on every side and exclaimed, "Oh, heavens, where am
I?" Then he got up and clambered out of the cave, went into the forest,
and thought, "Here I am quite alone and deserted, how shall I obtain a
horse now?" Whilst he was thus walking full of thought, he met a small
tabby-cat which said quite kindly, "Hans, where are you going?"
"Alas, thou canst not help me." "I well know your desire,&qu=
ot;
said the cat. "You wish to have a beautiful horse. Come with me, and b=
e my
faithful servant for seven years long, and then I will give you one more
beautiful than any you have ever seen in your whole life." "Well,
this is a wonderful cat!" thought Hans, "but I am determined to s=
ee
if she is telling the truth." So she took him with her into her enchan=
ted
castle, where there were nothing but cats who were her servants. They leapt
nimbly upstairs and downstairs, and were merry and happy. In the evening wh=
en
they sat down to dinner, three of them had to make music. One played the
bassoon, the other the fiddle, and the third put the trumpet to his lips, a=
nd
blew out his cheeks as much as he possibly could. When they had dined, the =
table
was carried away, and the cat said, "Now, Hans, come and dance with
me." "No," said he, "I won't dance with a pussy cat. I =
have
never done that yet." "Then take him to bed," said she to the
cats. So one of them lighted him to his bed-room, one pulled his shoes off,=
one
his stockings, and at last one of them blew out the candle. Next morning th=
ey
returned and helped him out of bed, one put his stockings on for him, one t=
ied
his garters, one brought his shoes, one washed him, and one dried his face =
with
her tail. "That feels very soft!" said Hans. He, however, had to
serve the cat, and chop some wood every day, and to do that, he had an axe =
of silver,
and the wedge and saw were of silver and the mallet of copper. So he chopped
the wood small; stayed there in the house and had good meat and drink, but
never saw anyone but the tabby-cat and her servants. Once she said to him,
"Go and mow my meadow, and dry the grass," and gave him a scythe =
of
silver, and a whetstone of gold, but bade him deliver them up again careful=
ly.
So Hans went thither, and did what he was bidden, and when he had finished =
the
work, he carried the scythe, whetstone, and hay to the house, and asked if =
it
was not yet time for her to give him his reward. "No," said the c=
at,
"you must first do something more for me of the same kind. There is ti=
mber
of silver, carpenter's axe, square, and everything that is needful, all of
silver, with these build me a small house." Then Hans built the small
house, and said that he had now done everything, and still he had no horse.
Nevertheless the seven years had gone by with him as if they were six month=
s.
The cat asked him if he would like to see her horses? "Yes," said
Hans. Then she opened the door of the small house, and when she had opened =
it,
there stood twelve horses, such horses, so bright and shining, that his hea=
rt rejoiced
at the sight of them. And now she gave him to eat and drink, and said, &quo=
t;Go
home, I will not give thee thy horse away with thee; but in three days' tim=
e I
will follow thee and bring it." So Hans set out, and she showed him the
way to the mill. She had, however, never once given him a new coat, and he =
had
been obliged to keep on his dirty old smock-frock, which he had brought with
him, and which during the seven years had everywhere become too small for h=
im.
When he reached home, the two other apprentices were there again as well, a=
nd
each of them certainly had brought a horse with him, but one of them was a
blind one, and the other lame. They asked Hans where his horse was. "It
will follow me in three days' time." Then they laughed and said,
"Indeed, stupid Hans, where wilt thou get a horse?" "It will=
be
a fine one!" Hans went into the parlour, but the miller said he should=
not
sit down to table, for he was so ragged and torn, that they would all be
ashamed of him if any one came in. So they gave him a mouthful of food outs=
ide,
and at night, when they went to rest, the two others would not let him have=
a
bed, and at last he was forced to creep into the goose-house, and lie down =
on a
little hard straw. In the morning when he awoke, the three days had passed,=
and
a coach came with six horses and they shone so bright that it was delightfu=
l to
see them! and a servant brought a seventh as well, which was for the poor
miller's boy. And a magnificent princess alighted from the coach and went i=
nto
the mill, and this princess was the little tabby-cat whom poor Hans had ser=
ved
for seven years. She asked the miller where the miller's boy and drudge was?
Then the miller said, "We cannot have him here in the mill, for he is =
so
ragged; he is lying in the goose-house." Then the King's daughter said
that they were to bring him immediately. So they brought him out, and he ha=
d to
hold his little smock-frock together to cover himself. The servants unpacke=
d splendid
garments, and washed him and dressed him, and when that was done, no King c=
ould
have looked more handsome. Then the maiden desired to see the horses which =
the
other apprentices had brought home with them, and one of them was blind and=
the
other lame. So she ordered the servant to bring the seventh horse, and when=
the
miller saw it, he said that such a horse as that had never yet entered his
yard. "And that is for the third miller's boy," said she. "Then he must have the mill,&=
quot; said
the miller, but the King's daughter said that the horse was there, and that=
he
was to keep his mill as well, and took her faithful Hans and set him in the
coach, and drove away with him. They first drove to the little house which =
he
had built with the silver tools, and behold it was a great castle, and
everything inside it was of silver and gold; and then she married him, and =
he
was rich, so rich that he had enough for all the rest of his life. After th=
is,
let no one ever say that anyone who is silly can never become a person of
importance.
Hill
and vale do not come together, but the children of men do, good and bad. In
this way a shoemaker and a tailor once met with each other in their travels.
The tailor was a handsome little fellow who was always merry and full of
enjoyment. He saw the shoemak=
er
coming towards him from the other side, and as he observed by his bag what =
kind
of a trade he plied, he sang a little mocking song to him,
"Sew me the seam, Draw me the thread, Spread it over with pitch, Knock the nail on the head."
The
shoemaker, however, could not endure a joke; he pulled a face as if he had
drunk vinegar, and made a gesture as if he were about to seize the tailor by
the throat. But the little fellow began to laugh, reached him his bottle, a=
nd
said, "No harm was meant, take a drink, and swallow your anger down.&q=
uot;
The shoemaker took a very hearty drink, and the storm on his face began to
clear away. He gave the bottle back to the tailor, and said, "I spoke
civilly to you; one speaks well after much drinking, but not after much thi=
rst.
Shall we travel together?" "All right," answered the tailor,
"if only it suits you to go into a big town where there is no lack of
work." "That is just where I want to go," answered the shoem=
aker.
"In a small nest there is nothing to earn, and in the country, people =
like
to go barefoot." They travelled therefore onwards together, and always=
set
one foot before the other like a weasel in the snow.
Both
of them had time enough, but little to bite and to break. When they reached=
a
town they went about and paid their respects to the tradesmen, and because =
the
tailor looked so lively and merry, and had such pretty red cheeks, every one
gave him work willingly, and when luck was good the master's daughters gave=
him
a kiss beneath the porch, as well. When he again fell in with the shoemaker,
the tailor had always the most in his bundle. The ill-tempered shoemaker ma=
de a
wry face, and thought, "The greater the rascal the more the luck,"
but the tailor began to laugh and to sing, and shared all he got with his
comrade. If a couple of pence jingled in his pockets, he ordered good cheer,
and thumped the table in his joy till the glasses danced, and it was lightly
come, lightly go, with him.
When
they had travelled for some time, they came to a great forest through which
passed the road to the capital. Two foot-paths, however, led through it, on=
e of
which was a seven days' journey, and the other only two, but neither of the
travellers knew which way was the short one. They seated themselves beneath=
an
oak-tree, and took counsel together how they should forecast, and for how m=
any
days they should provide themselves with bread. The shoemaker said, "O=
ne
must look before one leaps, I will take with me bread for a week." "What!" said the tailor,
"drag bread for seven days on one's back like a beast of burden, and n=
ot
be able to look about. I shall trust in God, and not trouble myself about
anything! The money I have in my pocket is as good in summer as in winter, =
but
in hot weather bread gets dry, and mouldy into the bargain; even my coat do=
es not
go as far as it might. Besides, why should we not find the right way? Bread=
for
two days, and that's enough." Each, therefore, bought his own bread, a=
nd
then they tried their luck in the forest.
It was
as quiet there as in a church. No wind stirred, no brook murmured, no bird
sang, and through the thickly-leaved branches no sunbeam forced its way.
This
lasted two days, but on the third the forest would not come to an end, and =
the
tailor had eaten up all his bread, so after all his heart sank down a yard
deeper. In the meantime he did not lose courage, but relied on God and on h=
is
luck. On the third day he lay down in the evening hungry under a tree, and =
rose
again next morning hungry still; so also passed the fourth day, and when the
shoemaker seated himself on a fallen tree and devoured his dinner, the tail=
or
was only a looker-on. If he begged for a little piece of bread the other la=
ughed
mockingly, and said, "Thou hast always been so merry, now thou canst t=
ry
for once what it is to be sad: the birds which sing too early in the morning
are struck by the hawk in the evening," In short he was pitiless. But =
on
the fifth morning the poor tailor could no longer stand up, and was hardly =
able
to utter one word for weakness; his cheeks were white, and his eyes red. Th=
en the
shoemaker said to him, "I will give thee a bit of bread to-day, but in
return for it, I will put out thy right eye." The unhappy tailor who s=
till
wished to save his life, could not do it in any other way; he wept once more
with both eyes, and then held them out, and the shoemaker, who had a heart =
of
stone, put out his right eye with a sharp knife. The tailor called to remem=
brance
what his mother had formerly said to him when he had been eating secretly in
the pantry. "Eat what one can, and suffer what one must." When he=
had
consumed his dearly-bought bread, he got on his legs again, forgot his mise=
ry
and comforted himself with the thought that he could always see enough with=
one
eye. But on the sixth day, hunger made itself felt again, and gnawed him al=
most
to the heart. In the evening he fell down by a tree, and on the seventh mor=
ning
he could not raise himself up for faintness, and death was close at hand. T=
hen said
the shoemaker, "I will show mercy and give thee bread once more, but t=
hou
shalt not have it for nothing, I shall put out thy other eye for it." =
And
now the tailor felt how thoughtless his life had been, prayed to God for
forgiveness, and said, "Do what thou wilt, I will bear what I must, but
remember that our Lord God does not always look on passively, and that an h=
our
will come when the evil deed which thou hast done to me, and which I have n=
ot
deserved of thee, will be requited. When times were good with me, I shared =
what
I had with thee. My trade is of that kind that each stitch must always be
exactly like the other. If I no longer have my eyes and can sew no more I m=
ust
go a-begging. At any rate do not leave me here alone when I am blind, or I
shall die of hunger." The shoemaker, however, who had driven God out of
his heart, took the knife and put out his left eye. Then he gave him a bit =
of
bread to eat, held out a stick to him, and drew him on behind him.
When
the sun went down, they got out of the forest, and before them in the open
country stood the gallows. Thither the shoemaker guided the blind tailor, a=
nd
then left him alone and went his way. Weariness, pain, and hunger made the
wretched man fall asleep, and he slept the whole night. When day dawned he
awoke, but knew not where he lay. Two poor sinners were hanging on the gall=
ows,
and a crow sat on the head of each of them. Then one of the men who had been
hanged began to speak, and said, "Brother, art thou awake?"
"Yes, I am awake," answered the second. "Then I will tell th=
ee
something," said the first; "the dew which this night has fallen =
down
over us from the gallows, gives every one who washes himself with it his ey=
es
again. If blind people did but know this, how many would regain their sight=
who
do not believe that to be possible."
When
the tailor heard that, he took his pocket-handkerchief, pressed it on the
grass, and when it was moist with dew, washed the sockets of his eyes with
it. Immediately was fulfilled=
what
the man on the gallows had said, and a couple of healthy new eyes filled the
sockets. It was not long before the tailor saw the sun rise behind the
mountains; in the plain before him lay the great royal city with its
magnificent gates and hundred towers, and the golden balls and crosses which
were on the spires began to shine. He could distinguish every leaf on the
trees, saw the birds which flew past, and the midges which danced in the ai=
r.
He took a needle out of his pocket, and as he could thread it as well as ev=
er
he had done, his heart danced with delight. He threw himself on his knees,
thanked God for the mercy he had shown him, and said his morning prayer. He=
did
not forget also to pray for the poor sinners who were hanging there swingin=
g against
each other in the wind like the pendulums of clocks. Then he took his bundl=
e on
his back and soon forgot the pain of heart he had endured, and went on his =
way
singing and whistling.
The
first thing he met was a brown foal running about the fields at large. He
caught it by the mane, and wanted to spring on it and ride into the town. T=
he
foal, however, begged to be set free. "I am still too young," it
said, "even a light tailor such as thou art would break my back in two=
let
me go till I have grown strong. A time may perhaps come when I may reward t=
hee
for it." "Run off," said the tailor, "I see thou art st=
ill
a giddy thing." He gave it a touch with a switch over its back, whereu=
pon
it kicked up its hind legs for joy, leapt over hedges and ditches, and gall=
oped
away into the open country.
But
the little tailor had eaten nothing since the day before. "The sun to =
be
sure fills my eyes," said he, "but the bread does not fill my mou=
th.
The first thing that comes across me and is even half edible will have to
suffer for it." In the meantime a stork stepped solemnly over the mead=
ow
towards him. "Halt, halt!"
cried the tailor, and seized him by the leg. "I don't know if t=
hou
art good to eat or not, but my hunger leaves me no great choice. I must cut=
thy
head off, and roast thee." "Don't do that," replied the stor=
k;
"I am a sacred bird which brings mankind great profit, and no one does=
me
an injury. Leave me my life, and I may do thee good in some other way."
"Well, be off, Cousin Longlegs," said the tailor. The stork rose =
up,
let its long legs hang down, and flew gently away.
"What's
to be the end of this?" said the tailor to himself at last, "my
hunger grows greater and greater, and my stomach more and more empty.
Whatsoever comes in my way now is lost." At this moment he saw a coupl=
e of
young ducks which were on a pond come swimming towards him. "You come =
just
at the right moment," said he, and laid hold of one of them and was ab=
out
to wring its neck. On this an=
old
duck which was hidden among the reeds, began to scream loudly, and swam to =
him
with open beak, and begged him urgently to spare her dear children. "C=
anst
thou not imagine," said she, "how thy mother would mourn if any o=
ne
wanted to carry thee off, and give thee thy finishing stroke?" "O=
nly
be quiet," said the good-tempered tailor, "thou shalt keep thy
children," and put the prisoner back into the water.
When he turned round, he was standing in front of an old tree which was partly hollow, and saw some wild bees flying in and out of it. "There I shall= at once find the reward of my good deed," said the tailor, "the honey will refresh me." But the Queen-bee came out, threatened him and said, "If thou touchest my people, and destroyest my nest, our stings shall pierce thy skin like ten thousand red-hot needles. But if thou wilt leave u= s in peace and go thy way, we will do thee a service for it another time."<= o:p>
The
little tailor saw that here also nothing was to be done. "Three dishes
empty and nothing on the fourth is a bad dinner!" He dragged himself t=
herefore
with his starved-out stomach into the town, and as it was just striking twe=
lve,
all was ready-cooked for him in the inn, and he was able to sit down at onc=
e to
dinner. When he was satisfied=
he
said, "Now I will get to work." He went round the town, sought a
master, and soon found a good situation. As, however, he had thoroughly lea=
rnt
his trade, it was not long before he became famous, and every one wanted to=
have
his new coat made by the little tailor, whose importance increased daily.
"I can go no further in skill," said he, "and yet things imp=
rove
every day." At last the King appointed him court-tailor.
But
how things do happen in the world! On the very same day his former comrade =
the
shoemaker also became court-shoemaker. When the latter caught sight of the
tailor, and saw that he had once more two healthy eyes, his conscience trou=
bled
him. "Before he takes revenge on me," thought he to himself, &quo=
t;I
must dig a pit for him." He, however, who digs a pit for another, falls
into it himself. In the evening when work was over and it had grown dusk, he
stole to the King and said, "Lord King, the tailor is an arrogant fell=
ow
and has boasted that he will get the gold crown back again which was lost in
ancient times." "That would please me very much," said the K=
ing,
and he caused the tailor to be brought before him next morning, and ordered=
him
to get the crown back again, or to leave the town for ever. "Oho!"
thought the tailor, "a rogue gives more than he has got. If the surly =
King
wants me to do what can be done by no one, I will not wait till morning, but
will go out of the town at once, to-day." He packed up his bundle,
therefore, but when he was without the gate he could not help being sorry to
give up his good fortune, and turn his back on the town in which all had go=
ne
so well with him. He came to the pond where he had made the acquaintance of=
the
ducks; at that very moment the old one whose young ones he had spared, was
sitting there by the shore, pluming herself with her beak. She knew him aga=
in
instantly, and asked why he was hanging his head so? "Thou wilt not be
surprised when thou hearest what has befallen me," replied the tailor,=
and
told her his fate. "If that be all," said the duck, "we can =
help
thee. The crown fell into the water, and lies down below at the bottom; we =
will
soon bring it up again for thee. In the meantime just spread out thy handke=
rchief
on the bank." She dived down with her twelve young ones, and in five
minutes she was up again and sat with the crown resting on her wings, and t=
he
twelve young ones were swimming round about and had put their beaks under i=
t,
and were helping to carry it. They swam to the shore and put the crown on t=
he
handkerchief. No one can imagine how magnificent the crown was; when the sun
shone on it, it gleamed like a hundred thousand carbuncles. The tailor tied=
his
handkerchief together by the four corners, and carried it to the King, who =
was
full of joy, and put a gold chain round the tailor's neck.
When
the shoemaker saw that one stroke had failed, he contrived a second, and we=
nt
to the King and said, "Lord King, the tailor has become insolent again=
; he
boasts that he will copy in wax the whole of the royal palace, with everyth=
ing
that pertains to it, loose or fast, inside and out." The King sent for=
the
tailor and ordered him to copy in wax the whole of the royal palace, with
everything that pertained to it, movable or immovable, within and without, =
and
if he did not succeed in doing this, or if so much as one nail on the wall =
were
wanting, he should be imprisoned for his whole life under ground.
The
tailor thought, "It gets worse and worse! No one can endure that?"
and threw his bundle on his back, and went forth. When he came to the hollo=
w tree,
he sat down and hung his head. The bees came flying out, and the Queen-bee
asked him if he had a stiff neck, since he held his head so awry? "Ala=
s,
no," answered the tailor, "something quite different weighs me
down," and he told her what the King had demanded of him. The bees beg=
an
to buzz and hum amongst themselves, and the Queen-bee said, "Just go h=
ome
again, but come back to-morrow at this time, and bring a large sheet with y=
ou,
and then all will be well." So he turned back again, but the bees flew=
to
the royal palace and straight into it through the open windows, crept round
about into every corner, and inspected everything most carefully. Then they
hurried back and modelled the palace in wax with such rapidity that any one
looking on would have thought it was growing before his eyes. By the evening
all was ready, and when the tailor came next morning, the whole of the sple=
ndid
building was there, and not one nail in the wall or tile of the roof was
wanting, and it was delicate withal, and white as snow, and smelt sweet as
honey. The tailor wrapped it carefully in his cloth and took it to the King,
who could not admire it enough, placed it in his largest hall, and in retur=
n for
it presented the tailor with a large stone house.
The
shoemaker, however, did not give up, but went for the third time to the King
and said, "Lord King, it has come to the tailor's ears that no water w=
ill
spring up in the court-yard of the castle, and he has boasted that it shall
rise up in the midst of the court-yard to a man's height and be clear as
crystal." Then the King ordered the tailor to be brought before him and
said, "If a stream of water does not rise in my court-yard by to-morro=
w as
thou hast promised, the executioner shall in that very place make thee shor=
ter
by the head." The poor tailor did not take long to think about it, but
hurried out to the gate, and because this time it was a matter of life and
death to him, tears rolled down his face. Whilst he was thus going forth fu=
ll
of sorrow, the foal to which he had formerly given its liberty, and which h=
ad
now become a beautiful chestnut horse, came leaping towards him. "The =
time
has come," it said to the tailor, "when I can repay thee for thy =
good
deed. I know already what is needful to thee, but thou shalt soon have help;
get on me, my back can carry two such as thou." The tailor's courage c=
ame
back to him; he jumped up in one bound, and the horse went full speed into =
the
town, and right up to the court-yard of the castle. It galloped as quick as
lightning thrice round it, and at the third time it fell violently down. At=
the
same instant, however, there was a terrific clap of thunder, a fragment of
earth in the middle of the court-yard sprang like a cannon-ball into the ai=
r,
and over the castle, and directly after it a jet of water rose as high as a=
man
on horseback, and the water was as pure as crystal, and the sunbeams began =
to
dance on it. When the King saw that he arose in amazement, and went and
embraced the tailor in the sight of all men.
But
good fortune did not last long. The King had daughters in plenty, one still
prettier than the other, but he had no son. So the malicious shoemaker beto=
ok
himself for the fourth time to the King, and said, "Lord King, the tai=
lor
has not given up his arrogance. He has now boasted that if he liked, he cou=
ld
cause a son to be brought to the Lord king through the air." The King
commanded the tailor to be summoned, and said, "If thou causest a son =
to
be brought to me within nine days, thou shalt have my eldest daughter to
wife." "The reward is indeed great," thought the little tail=
or;
"one would willingly do something for it, but the cherries grow too hi=
gh
for me, if I climb for them, the bough will break beneath me, and I shall
fall."
He
went home, seated himself cross-legged on his work-table, and thought over =
what
was to be done. "It can't be managed," cried he at last, "I =
will
go away; after all I can't live in peace here." He tied up his bundle =
and
hurried away to the gate. When he got to the meadow, he perceived his old
friend the stork, who was walking backwards and forwards like a philosopher.
Sometimes he stood still, took a frog into close consideration, and at leng=
th
swallowed it down. The stork came to him and greeted him. "I see,"=
; he
began, "that thou hast thy pack on thy back. Why art thou leaving the
town?" The tailor told him what the King had required of him, and how =
he
could not perform it, and lamented his misfortune. "Don't let thy hair grow grey=
about
that," said the stork, "I will help thee out of thy difficulty. F=
or a
long time now, I have carried the children in swaddling-clothes into the to=
wn,
so for once in a way I can fetch a little prince out of the well. Go home a=
nd
be easy. In nine days from this time repair to the royal palace, and there =
will
I come." The little tailor went home, and at the appointed time was at=
the
castle. It was not long before the stork came flying thither and tapped at =
the
window. The tailor opened it, and cousin Longlegs came carefully in, and wa=
lked
with solemn steps over the smooth marble pavement. He had, moreover, a baby=
in
his beak that was as lovely as an angel, and stretched out its little hands=
to
the Queen. The stork laid it in her lap, and she caressed it and kissed it,=
and
was beside herself with delight. Before the stork flew away, he took his
travelling bag off his back and handed it over to the Queen. In it there we=
re
little paper parcels with colored sweetmeats, and they were divided amongst=
the
little princesses. The eldest, however, had none of them, but got the merry
tailor for a husband. "It seems to me," said he, "just as if=
I had
won the highest prize. My mother was if right after all, she always said th=
at
whoever trusts in God and only has good luck, can never fail."
The
shoemaker had to make the shoes in which the little tailor danced at the
wedding festival, after which he was commanded to quit the town for ever. T=
he
road to the forest led him to the gallows. Worn out with anger, rage, and t=
he
heat of the day, he threw himself down. When he had closed his eyes and was
about to sleep, the two crows flew down from the heads of the men who were
hanging there, and pecked his eyes out. In his madness he ran into the fore=
st
and must have died there of hunger, for no one has ever either seen him aga=
in
or heard of him.
THERE
was once a countryman who had money and land in plenty, but how rich soever=
he
was, one thing was still wanting in his happiness he had no children. Often
when he went into the town with the other peasants they mocked him and asked
why he had no children. At last he became angry, and when he got home he sa=
id,
"I will have a child, even if it be a hedgehog." Then his wife ha=
d a
child, that was a hedgehog in the upper part of his body, and a boy in the
lower, and when she saw the child, she was terrified, and said, "See,
there thou hast brought ill-luck on us." Then said the man, "What=
can
be done now? The boy must be christened, but we shall not be able to get a
godfather for him." The woman said, "And we cannot call him anyth=
ing
else but Hans the Hedgehog."
When
he was christened, the parson said, "He cannot go into any ordinary bed
because of his spikes." So a little straw was put behind the stove, and
Hans the Hedgehog was laid on it. His mother could not suckle him, for he w=
ould
have pricked her with his quills. So he lay there behind the stove for eight
years, and his father was tired of him and thought, "If he would but
die!" He did not die, however, but remained lying there. Now it happen=
ed
that there was a fair in the town, and the peasant was about to go to it, a=
nd
asked his wife what he should bring back with him for her. "A little m=
eat
and a couple of white rolls which are wanted for the house," said she.
Then he asked the servant, and she wanted a pair of slippers and some stock=
ings
with clocks. At last he said also, "And what wilt thou have, Hans my
Hedgehog?" "Dear father," he said, "do bring me
bagpipes." When, therefore, the father came home again, he gave his wi=
fe
what he had bought for her; meat and white rolls, and then he gave the maid=
the
slippers, and the stockings with clocks; and, lastly, he went behind the st=
ove,
and gave Hans the Hedgehog the bagpipes. And when Hans the Hedgehog had the
bagpipes, he said, "Dear father, do go to the forge and get the cock s=
hod,
and then I will ride away, and never come back again." On this, the fa=
ther
was delighted to think that he was going to get rid of him, and had the cock
shod for him, and when it was done, Hans the Hedgehog got on it, and rode a=
way,
but took swine and asses with him which he intended to keep in the forest. =
When
they got there he made the cock fly on to a high tree with him, and there he
sat for many a long year, and watched his asses and swine until the herd was
quite large, and his father knew nothing about him. While he was sitting in=
the
tree, however, he played his bagpipes, and made music which was very
beautiful. Once a King came
travelling by who had lost his way and heard the music. He was astonished at
it, and sent his servant forth to look all round and see from whence this m=
usic
came. He spied about, but saw nothing but a little animal sitting up aloft =
on
the tree, which looked like a cock with a hedgehog on it which made this mu=
sic.
Then the King told the servant he was to ask why he sat there, and if he kn=
ew
the road which led to his kingdom. So Hans the Hedgehog descended from the =
tree,
and said he would show the way if the King would write a bond and promise h=
im
whatever he first met in the royal courtyard as soon as he arrived at home.
Then the King thought, "I can easily do that, Hans the Hedgehog unders=
tands
nothing, and I can write what I like." So the King took pen and ink and
wrote something, and when he had done it, Hans the Hedgehog showed him the =
way,
and he got safely home. But his daughter, when she saw him from afar, was so
overjoyed that she ran to meet him, and kissed him. Then he remembered Hans=
the
Hedgehog, and told her what had happened, and that he had been forced to
promise whatsoever first met him when he got home, to a very strange animal
which sat on a cock as if it were a horse, and made beautiful music, but th=
at
instead of writing that he should have what he wanted, he had written that =
he
should not have it. Thereupon the princess was glad, and said he had done w=
ell,
for she never would have gone away with the Hedgehog.
Hans
the Hedgehog, however, looked after his asses and pigs, and was always merry
and sat on the tree and played his bagpipes.
Now it
came to pass that another King came journeying by with his attendants and
runners, and he also had lost his way, and did not know how to get home aga=
in
because the forest was so large. He likewise heard the beautiful music from=
a
distance, and asked his runner what that could be, and told him to go and
see. Then the runner went und=
er the
tree, and saw the cock sitting at the top of it, and Hans the Hedgehog on t=
he cock.
The runner asked him what he was about up there? "I am keeping my asses
and my pigs; but what is your desire?" The messenger said that they had
lost their way, and could not get back into their own kingdom, and asked if=
he
would not show them the way. Then Hans the Hedgehog got down the tree with =
the
cock, and told the aged King that he would show him the way, if he would gi=
ve
him for his own whatsoever first met him in front of his royal palace. The =
King
said, "Yes," and wrote a promise to Hans the Hedgehog that he sho=
uld
have this. That done, Hans rode on before him on the cock, and pointed out =
the
way, and the King reached his kingdom again in safety. When he got to the
courtyard, there were great rejoicings. Now he had an only daughter who was
very beautiful; she ran to meet him, threw her arms round his neck, and was
delighted to have her old father back again. She asked him where in the wor=
ld
he had been so long. So he told her how he had lost his way, and had very n=
early
not come back at all, but that as he was travelling through a great forest,=
a
creature, half hedgehog, half man, who was sitting astride a cock in a high
tree, and making music, had shown him the way and helped him to get out, but
that in return he had promised him whatsoever first met him in the royal
court-yard, and how that was she herself, which made him unhappy now. But on
this she promised that, for love of her father, she would willingly go with
this Hans if he came.
Hans
the Hedgehog, however, took care of his pigs, and the pigs multiplied until
they became so many in number that the whole forest was filled with them. T=
hen
Hans the Hedgehog resolved not to live in the forest any longer, and sent w=
ord
to his father to have every stye in the village emptied, for he was coming =
with
such a great herd that all might kill who wished to do so. When his father
heard that, he was troubled, for he thought Hans the Hedgehog had died long
ago. Hans the Hedgehog, howev=
er,
seated himself on the cock, and drove the pigs before him into the village,=
and
ordered the slaughter to begin. Ha! but there was a killing and a chopping =
that
might have been heard two miles off! After this Hans the Hedgehog said,
"Father, let me have the cock shod once more at the forge, and then I =
will
ride away and never come back as long as I live." Then the father had =
the
cock shod once more, and was pleased that Hans the Hedgehog would never ret=
urn
again.
Hans
the Hedgehog rode away to the first kingdom. There the King had commanded t=
hat
whosoever came mounted on a cock and had bagpipes with him should be shot a=
t,
cut down, or stabbed by everyone, so that he might not enter the palace. Wh=
en,
therefore, Hans the Hedgehog came riding thither, they all pressed forward
against him with their pikes, but he spurred the cock and it flew up over t=
he
gate in front of the King's window and lighted there, and Hans cried that t=
he
King must give him what he had promised, or he would take both his life and=
his
daughter's. Then the King began to speak his daughter fair, and to beg her =
to
go away with Hans in order to save her own life and her father's. So she
dressed herself in white, and her father gave her a carriage with six horses
and magnificent attendants together with gold and possessions. She seated h=
erself
in the carriage, and placed Hans the Hedgehog beside her with the cock and =
the
bagpipes, and then they took leave and drove away, and the King thought he
should never see her again. He was however, deceived in his expectation, for
when they were at a short distance from the town, Hans the Hedgehog took her
pretty clothes off, and pierced her with his hedgehog's skin until she bled=
all
over. "That is the reward of your falseness," said he, "go y=
our
way, I will not have you!" and on that he chased her home again, and s=
he
was disgraced for the rest of her life.
Hans
the Hedgehog, however, rode on further on the cock, with his bagpipes, to t=
he
dominions of the second King to whom he had shown the way. This one, howeve=
r,
had arranged that if any one resembling Hans the Hedgehog should come, they
were to present arms, give him safe conduct, cry long life to him, and lead=
him
to the royal palace.
But
when the King's daughter saw him she was terrified, for he looked quite too
strange. She remembered however, that she could not change her mind, for she
had given her promise to her father. So Hans the Hedgehog was welcomed by h=
er,
and married to her, and had to go with her to the royal table, and she seat=
ed
herself by his side, and they ate and drank. When the evening came and they
wanted to go to sleep, she was afraid of his quills, but he told her she was
not to fear, for no harm would befall her, and he told the old King that he=
was
to appoint four men to watch by the door of the chamber, and light a great
fire, and when he entered the room and was about to get into bed, he would
creep out of his hedgehog's skin and leave it lying there by the bedside, a=
nd
that the men were to run nimbly to it, throw it in the fire, and stay by it
until it was consumed. When the clock struck eleven, he went into the chamb=
er,
stripped off the hedgehog's skin, and left it lying by the bed. Then came t=
he
men and fetched it swiftly, and threw it in the fire; and when the fire had
consumed it, he was delivered, and lay there in bed in human form, but he w=
as
coal-black as if he had been burnt. The King sent for his physician who was=
hed
him with precious salves, and anointed him, and he became white, and was a
handsome young man. When the King's daughter saw that she was glad, and the
next morning they arose joyfully, ate and drank, and then the marriage was
properly solemnized, and Hans the Hedgehog received the kingdom from the ag=
ed
King.
When
several years had passed he went with his wife to his father, and said that=
he
was his son. The father, however, declared he had no son he had never had b=
ut
one, and he had been born like a hedgehog with spikes, and had gone forth i=
nto
the world. Then Hans made himself known, and the old father rejoiced and we=
nt
with him to his kingdom.
My tale is done, And away it has run To little August's house.
There
was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so hands=
ome
and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herse=
lf
worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he
suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself; and for this the mother c=
ould
not be comforted, and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the
child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat =
and
played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morn=
ing
came it disappeared. As, however, the mother would not stop crying, it came=
one
night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, =
and
with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet=
, and
said, "Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my
coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all thy tears, which fall upon
it." The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The =
next
night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said,
"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.&qu=
ot;
Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and
patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath =
the
earth.
There
was once a rich man, who had a servant who served him diligently and honest=
ly:
He was every morning the first out of bed, and the last to go to rest at ni=
ght;
and, whenever there was a difficult job to be done, which nobody cared to
undertake, he was always the first to set himself to it. Moreover, he never
complained, but was contented with everything, and always merry.
When a
year was ended, his master gave him no wages, for he said to himself,
"That is the cleverest way; for I shall save something, and he will no=
t go
away, but stay quietly in my service." The servant said nothing, but d=
id
his work the second year as he had done it the first; and when at the end of
this, likewise, he received no wages, he made himself happy, and still stay=
ed
on.
When
the third year also was past, the master considered, put his hand in his
pocket, but pulled nothing out. Then at last the servant said, "Master,
for three years I have served you honestly, be so good as to give me what I
ought to have, for I wish to leave, and look about me a little more in the
world."
"Yes,
my good fellow," answered the old miser; "you have served me indu=
striously,
and, therefore, you shall be cheerfully rewarded;" And he put his hand
into his pocket, but counted out only three farthings, saying, "There,=
you
have a farthing for each year; that is large and liberal pay, such as you w=
ould
have received from few masters."
The
honest servant, who understood little about money, put his fortune into his
pocket, and thought, "Ah! now that I have my purse full, why need I
trouble and plague myself any longer with hard work!" So on he went, up
hill and down dale; and sang and jumped to his heart's content. Now it came=
to
pass that as he was going by a thicket a little man stepped out, and called=
to
him, "Whither away, merry brother? I see you do not carry many
cares." "Why should I be sad?" answered the servant; "I have
enough; three years' wages are jingling in my pocket." "How much =
is
your treasure?" the dwarf asked him. "How much? Three farthings s=
terling,
all told." "Look here," said the dwarf, "I am a poor ne=
edy
man, give me your three farthings; I can work no longer, but you are young,=
and
can easily earn your bread."
And as
the servant had a good heart, and felt pity for the old man, he gave him the
three farthings, saying, "Take them in the name of Heaven, I shall not=
be
any the worse for it."
Then
the little man said, "As I see you have a good heart I grant you three
wishes, one for each farthing, they shall all be fulfilled."
"Aha?"
said the servant, "you are one of those who can work wonders! Well, th=
en,
if it is to be so, I wish, first, for a gun, which shall hit everything tha=
t I
aim at; secondly, for a fiddle, which when I play on it, shall compel all w=
ho
hear it to dance; thirdly, that if I ask a favor of any one he shall not be
able to refuse it."
"All
that shall you have," said the dwarf; and put his hand into the bush, =
and
only think, there lay a fiddle and gun, all ready, just as if they had been
ordered. These he gave to the
servant, and then said to him, "Whatever you may ask at any time, no m=
an
in the world shall be able to deny you."
"Heart
alive! What can one desire more?" said the servant to himself, and went
merrily onwards. Soon afterwards he met a Jew with a long goat's-beard, who=
was
standing listening to the song of a bird which was sitting up at the top of=
a
tree. "Good heavens," he was exclaiming, "that such a small
creature should have such a fearfully loud voice! If it were but mine! If o=
nly
someone would sprinkle some salt upon its tail!"
"If
that is all," said the servant, "the bird shall soon be down
here;" And taking aim he pulled the trigger, and down fell the bird in=
to
the thorn-bushes. "Go, you rogue," he said to the Jew, "and
fetch the bird out for yourself!"
"Oh!"
said the Jew, "leave out the rogue, my master, and I will do it at onc=
e. I
will get the bird out for myself, as you really have hit it." Then he =
lay
down on the ground, and began to crawl into the thicket.
When
he was fast among the thorns, the good servant's humor so tempted him that =
he
took up his fiddle and began to play. In a moment the Jew's legs began to m=
ove,
and to jump into the air, and the more the servant fiddled the better went =
the
dance. But the thorns tore his shabby coat from him, combed his beard, and
pricked and plucked him all over the body. "Oh dear," cried the J=
ew,
"what do I want with your fiddling? Leave the fiddle alone, master; I =
do
not want to dance."
But
the servant did not listen to him, and thought, "You have fleeced peop=
le
often enough, now the thorn-bushes shall do the same to you;" and he b=
egan
to play over again, so that the Jew had to jump higher than ever, and scrap=
s of
his coat were left hanging on the thorns. "Oh, woe's me! cried the Jew=
; I
will give the gentleman whatsoever he asks if only he leaves off fiddling a
purse full of gold." "If you are so liberal," said the serva=
nt,
"I will stop my music; but this I must say to your credit, that you da=
nce
to it so well that it is quite an art;" and having taken the purse he =
went
his way.
The
Jew stood still and watched the servant quietly until he was far off and ou=
t of
sight, and then he screamed out with all his might, "You miserable
musician, you beer-house fiddler! wait till I catch you alone, I will hunt =
you
till the soles of your shoes fall off! You ragamuffin! just put five farthi=
ngs
in your mouth, and then you may be worth three halfpence!" and went on
abusing him as fast as he could speak. As soon as he had refreshed himself a
little in this way, and got his breath again, he ran into the town to the
justice.
"My
lord judge," he said, "I have come to make a complaint; see how a
rascal has robbed and ill-treated me on the public highway! a stone on the
ground might pity me; my clothes all torn, my body pricked and scratched, my
little all gone with my purse, good ducats, each piece better than the last;
for God's sake let the man be thrown into prison!"
"Was
it a soldier," said the judge, "who cut you thus with his sabre?&=
quot;
"Nothing of the sort!" said the Jew; "it was no sword that he
had, but a gun hanging at his back, and a fiddle at his neck; the wretch ma=
y easily
be known."
So the
judge sent his people out after the man, and they found the good servant, w=
ho
had been going quite slowly along, and they found, too, the purse with the
money upon him. As soon as he was taken before the judge he said, "I d=
id
not touch the Jew, nor take his money; he gave it to me of his own free wil=
l,
that I might leave off fiddling because he could not bear my music."
"Heaven defend us!" cried the Jew, "his lies are as thick as
flies upon the wall."
But
the judge also did not believe his tale, and said, "This is a bad defe=
nce,
no Jew would do that." And because he had committed robbery on the pub=
lic
highway, he sentenced the good servant to be hanged. As he was being led aw=
ay
the Jew again screamed after him, "You vagabond! you dog of a
fiddler! now you are going to
receive your well-earned reward!" The servant walked quietly with the
hangman up the ladder, but upon the last step he turned round and said to t=
he
judge, "Grant me just one request before I die."
"Yes,
if you do not ask your life," said the judge. "I do not ask for l=
ife,"
answered the servant, "but as a last favor let me play once more upon =
my
fiddle." The Jew raised a great cry of "Murder! murder! for goodn=
ess'
sake do not allow it! Do not allow it!" But the judge said, "Why
should I not let him have this short pleasure? it has been granted to him, =
and
he shall have it." However, he could not have refused on account of the
gift which had been bestowed on the servant.
Then
the Jew cried, "Oh! woe's me! tie me, tie me fast!" while the goo=
d servant
took his fiddle from his neck, and made ready. As he gave the first scrape,
they all began to quiver and shake, the judge, his clerk, and the hangman a=
nd
his men, and the cord fell out of the hand of the one who was going to tie =
the
Jew fast. At the second scrape all raised their legs, and the hangman let go
his hold of the good servant, and made himself ready to dance. At the third
scrape they all leaped up and began to dance; the judge and the Jew being t=
he
best at jumping. Soon all who had gathered in the market-place out of curio=
sity
were dancing with them; old and young, fat and lean, one with another. The =
dogs,
likewise, which had run there got up on their hind legs and capered about; =
and
the longer he played, the higher sprang the dancers, so that they knocked
against each other's heads, and began to shriek terribly.
At
length the judge cried, quite out of breath, "I will give you your lif=
e if
you will only stop fiddling." The good servant thereupon had compassio=
n, took
his fiddle and hung it round his neck again, and stepped down the ladder. T=
hen
he went up to the Jew, who was lying upon the ground panting for breath, and
said, "You rascal, now confess, whence you got the money, or I will ta=
ke
my fiddle and begin to play again." "I stole it, I stole it!"
cried he; "but you have honestly earned it." So the judge had the=
Jew
taken to the gallows and hanged as a thief.
THERE
was once a young fellow who had learnt the trade of locksmith, and told his
father he would now go out into the world and seek his fortune. "Very
well," said the father, "I am quite content with that," and =
gave
him some money for his journey. So he travelled about and looked for work.
After a time he resolved not to follow the trade of locksmith any more, for=
he
no longer liked it, but he took a fancy for hunting. Then there met him in =
his
rambles a huntsman dressed in green, who asked whence he came and whither he
was going? The youth said he was a locksmith's apprentice, but that the tra=
de
no longer pleased him, and he had a liking for huntsmanship, would he teach=
it
to him? "Oh, yes," said the huntsman, "if thou wilt go with
me." Then the young fellow went with him, bound himself to him for some
years, and learnt the art of hunting. After this he wished to try his luck
elsewhere, and the huntsman gave him nothing in the way of payment but an
air-gun, which had, however, this property, that it hit its mark without fa=
il
whenever he shot with it. Then he set out and found himself in a very large
forest, which he could not get to the end of in one day. When evening came =
he
seated himself in a high tree in order to escape from the wild beasts. Towa=
rds
midnight, it seemed to him as if a tiny little light glimmered in the dista=
nce.
Then he looked down through the branches towards it, and kept well in his m=
ind
where it was. But in the first
place he took off his hat and threw it down in the direction of the light, =
so
that he might go to the hat as a mark when he had descended. Then he got do=
wn
and went to his hat, put it on again and went straight forwards. The farthe=
r he
went, the larger the light grew, and when he got close to it he saw that it=
was
an enormous fire, and that three giants were sitting by it, who had an ox on
the spit, and were roasting it. Presently one of them said, "I must ju=
st
taste if the meat will soon be fit to eat," and pulled a piece off, and
was about to put it in his mouth when the huntsman shot it out of his hand.
"Well, really," said the giant, "if the wind has not blown t=
he
bit out of my hand!" and helped himself to another. But when he was just about to bite=
into
it, the huntsman again shot it away from him. On this the giant gave the on=
e who
was sitting next him a box on the ear, and cried angrily, "Why art thou
snatching my piece away from me?" "I have not snatched it away,&q=
uot;
said the other, "a sharpshooter must have shot it away from thee."
The giant took another piece, but could not, however, keep it in his hand, =
for
the huntsman shot it out. Then the giant said, "That must be a good sh=
ot
to shoot the bit out of one's very mouth, such an one would be useful to
us." And he cried aloud, "Come here, thou sharpshooter, seat thys=
elf at
the fire beside us and eat thy fill, we will not hurt thee; but if thou wilt
not come, and we have to bring thee by force, thou art a lost man!" On
this the youth went up to them and told them he was a skilled huntsman, and
that whatever he aimed at with his gun, he was certain to hit. Then they sa=
id
if he would go with them he should be well treated, and they told him that
outside the forest there was a great lake, behind which stood a tower, and =
in
the tower was imprisoned a lovely princess, whom they wished very much to c=
arry
off. "Yes," said he, "I will soon get her for you." Then they added, "But there is
still something else, there is a tiny little dog, which begins to bark dire=
ctly
any one goes near, and as soon as it barks every one in the royal palace wa=
kens
up, and for this reason we cannot get there; canst thou undertake to shoot =
it
dead?" "Yes," said he, "that will be a little bit of fun
for me." After this he got into a boat and rowed over the lake, and as
soon as he landed, the little dog came running out, and was about to bark, =
but
the huntsman took his air-gun and shot it dead. When the giants saw that, t=
hey rejoiced,
and thought they already had the King's daughter safe, but the huntsman wis=
hed
first to see how matters stood, and told them that they must stay outside u=
ntil
he called them. Then he went into the castle, and all was perfectly quiet
within, and every one was asleep. When he opened the door of the first room=
, a
sword was hanging on the wall which was made of pure silver, and there was a
golden star on it, and the name of the King, and on a table near it lay a
sealed letter which he broke open, and inside it was written that whosoever=
had
the sword could kill everything which opposed him. So he took the sword from
the wall, hung it at his side and went onwards: then he entered the room wh=
ere
the King's daughter was lying sleeping, and she was so beautiful that he st=
ood still
and, holding his breath, looked at her. He thought to himself, "How ca=
n I
give an innocent maiden into the power of the wild giants, who have evil in
their minds?" He looked about further, and under the bed stood a pair =
of
slippers, on the right one was her father's name with a star, and on the le=
ft
her own name with a star. She wore also a great neck-kerchief of silk
embroidered with gold, and on the right side was her father's name, and on =
the
left her own, all in golden letters. Then the huntsman took a pair of sciss=
ors
and cut the right corner off, and put it in his knapsack, and then he also =
took
the right slipper with the King's name, and thrust that in. Now the maiden
still lay sleeping, and she was quite sewn into her night-dress, and he cut=
a
morsel from this also, and thrust it in with the rest, but he did all witho=
ut
touching her. Then he went forth and left her lying asleep undisturbed, and=
when
he came to the gate again, the giants were still standing outside waiting f=
or
him, and expecting that he was bringing the princess. But he cried to them =
that
they were to come in, for the maiden was already in their power, that he co=
uld
not open the gate to them, but there was a hole through which they must cre=
ep.
Then the first approached, and the huntsman wound the giant's hair round his
hand, pulled the head in, and cut it off at one stroke with his sword, and =
then
drew the rest of him in. He called to the second and cut his head off likew=
ise,
and then he killed the third also, and he was well pleased that he had freed
the beautiful maiden from her enemies, and he cut out their tongues and put=
them
in his knapsack. Then thought he, "I will go home to my father and let=
him
see what I have already done, and afterwards I will travel about the world;=
the
luck which God is pleased to grant me will easily find me."
But
when the King in the castle awoke, he saw the three giants lying there
dead. So he went into the
sleeping-room of his daughter, awoke her, and asked who could have killed t=
he
giants? Then said she, "Dear father, I know not, I have been asleep.&q=
uot;
But when she arose and would have put on her slippers, the right one was go=
ne,
and when she looked at her neck-kerchief it was cut, and the right corner w=
as
missing, and when she looked at her night-dress a piece was cut out of it. =
The
King summoned his whole court together, soldiers and every one else who was
there, and asked who had set his daughter at liberty, and killed the giants=
? Now
it happened that he had a captain, who was one-eyed and a hideous man, and =
he
said that he had done it. Then the old King said that as he had accomplished
this, he should marry his daughter. But the maiden said, "Rather than
marry him, dear father, I will go away into the world as far as my legs can
carry me." But the King said that if she would not marry him she should
take off her royal garments and wear peasant's clothing, and go forth, and =
that
she should go to a potter, and begin a trade in earthen vessels. So she put=
off
her royal apparel, and went to a potter and borrowed crockery enough for a
stall, and she promised him also that if she had sold it by the evening, she
would pay for it. Then the King said she was to seat herself in a corner wi=
th
it and sell it, and he arranged with some peasants to drive over it with th=
eir
carts, so that everything should be broken into a thousand pieces. When
therefore the King's daughter had placed her stall in the street, by came t=
he
carts, and broke all she had into tiny fragments. She began to weep and sai=
d, "Alas,
how shall I ever pay for the pots now?" The King had, however, wished =
by
this to force her to marry the captain; but instead of that, she again went=
to
the potter, and asked him if he would lend to her once more. He said,
"No," she must first pay for the things she had already had. Then=
she
went to her father and cried and lamented, and said she would go forth into=
the
world. Then said he, "I will have a little hut built for thee in the
forest outside, and in it thou shalt stay all thy life long and cook for ev=
ery
one, but thou shalt take no money for it." When the hut was ready, a s=
ign
was hung on the door whereon was written, "To-day given, to-morrow
sold." There she remaine=
d a
long time, and it was rumored about the world that a maiden was there who c=
ooked
without asking for payment, and that this was set forth on a sign outside h=
er
door. The huntsman heard it likewise, and thought to himself, "That wo=
uld
suit thee. Thou art poor, and hast no money." So he took his air-gun a=
nd
his knapsack, wherein all the things which he had formerly carried away with
him from the castle as tokens of his truthfulness were still lying, and went
into the forest, and found the hut with the sign, "To-day given, to-mo=
rrow
sold." He had put on the sword with which he had cut off the heads of =
the
three giants, and thus entered the hut, and ordered something to eat to be
given to him. He was charmed =
with the
beautiful maiden, who was indeed as lovely as any picture. She asked him wh=
ence
he came and whither he was going, and he said, "I am roaming about the
world." Then she asked him where he had got the sword, for that truly =
her
father's name was on it. He asked her if she were the King's daughter.
"Yes," answered she. "With this sword," said he, "=
did
I cut off the heads of three giants." And he took their tongues out of=
his
knapsack in proof. Then he also showed her the slipper, and the corner of t=
he
neck-kerchief, and the bit of the night-dress. Hereupon she was overjoyed, =
and
said that he was the one who had delivered her. On this they went together =
to
the old King, and fetched him to the hut, and she led him into her room, and
told him that the huntsman was the man who had really set her free from the
giants. And when the aged King saw all the proofs of this, he could no long=
er
doubt, and said that he was very glad he knew how everything had happened, =
and
that the huntsman should have her to wife, on which the maiden was glad at
heart. Then she dressed the huntsman as if he were a foreign lord, and the =
King
ordered a feast to be prepared. When they went to table, the captain sat on=
the
left side of the King's daughter, but the huntsman was on the right, and the
captain thought he was a foreign lord who had come on a visit. When they had
eaten and drunk, the old King said to the captain that he would set before =
him
something which he must guess. "Supposing any one said that he had kil=
led
the three giants and he were asked where the giants' tongues were, and he w=
ere
forced to go and look, and there were none in their heads, how could that
happen?" The captain said, "Then they cannot have had any."
"Not so," said the King. "Every animal has a tongue," a=
nd
then he likewise asked what any one would deserve who made such an answer? =
The
captain replied, "He ought to be torn in pieces." Then the King s=
aid
he had pronounced his own sentence, and the captain was put in prison and t=
hen
torn in four pieces; but the King's daughter was married to the huntsman. A=
fter
this he brought his father and mother, and they lived with their son in
happiness, and after the death of the old King he received the kingdom.
A
countryman was once going out to plough with a pair of oxen. When he got to=
the
field, both the animals' horns began to grow, and went on growing, and when=
he
wanted to go home they were so big that the oxen could not get through the
gateway for them. By good luck a butcher came by just then, and he delivered
them over to him, and made the bargain in this way, that he should take the
butcher a measure of turnip-seed, and then the butcher was to count him out=
a
Brabant thaler for every seed. I call that well sold! The peasant now went
home, and carried the measure of turnip-seed to him on his back. On the way=
, however,
he lost one seed out of the bag. The butcher paid him justly as agreed on, =
and
if the peasant had not lost the seed, he would have had one thaler the more=
. In
the meantime, when he went on his way back, the seed had grown into a tree
which reached up to the sky. Then thought the peasant, "As thou hast t=
he
chance, thou must just see what the angels are doing up there above, and for
once have them before thine eyes." So he climbed up, and saw that the
angels above were threshing oats, and he looked on. While he was thus watch=
ing them,
he observed that the tree on which he was standing, was beginning to totter=
; he
peeped down, and saw that someone was just going to cut it down. "If I
were to fall down from hence it would be a bad thing," thought he, and=
in
his necessity he did not know how to save himself better than by taking the
chaff of the oats which lay there in heaps, and twisting a rope of it. He
likewise snatched a hoe and a flail which were lying about in heaven, and l=
et
himself down by the rope. But=
he came
down on the earth exactly in the middle of a deep, deep hole. So it was a r=
eal
piece of luck that he had brought the hoe, for he hoed himself a flight of
steps with it, and mounted up, and took the flail with him as a token of his
truth, so that no one could have any doubt of his story.
There
was once on a time a King who had a little boy of whom it had been foretold
that he should be killed by a stag when he was sixteen years of age, and wh=
en
he had reached that age the huntsmen once went hunting with him. In the for=
est,
the King's son was separated from the others, and all at once he saw a great
stag which he wanted to shoot, but could not hit. At length he chased the s=
tag
so far that they were quite out of the forest, and then suddenly a great ta=
ll
man was standing there instead of the stag, and said, "It is well that=
I
have thee. I have already ruined six pairs of glass skates with running aft=
er
thee, and have not been able to get thee." Then he took the King's son
with him, and dragged him through a great lake to a great palace, and then =
he
had to sit down to table with him and eat something. When they had eaten
something together the King said, "I have three daughters, thou must k=
eep
watch over the eldest for one night, from nine in the evening till six in t=
he
morning, and every time the clock strikes, I will come myself and call, and=
if
thou then givest me no answer, to-morrow morning thou shall be put to death=
, but
if thou always givest me an answer, thou shalt have her to wife."
When
the young folks went to the bed-room there stood a stone image of St. Chris=
topher,
and the King's daughter said to it, "My father will come at nine o'clo=
ck,
and every hour till it strikes three; when he calls, give him an answer ins=
tead
of the King's son." Then the stone image of St. Christopher nodded its
head quite quickly, and then more and more slowly till at last it stood sti=
ll.
The next morning the King said to him, "Thou hast done the business we=
ll,
but I cannot give my daughter away. Thou must now watch a night by my second
daughter, and then I will consider with myself, whether thou canst have my
eldest daughter to wife, but I shall come every hour myself, and when I call
thee, answer me, and if I call thee and thou dost not reply, thy blood shall
flow." Then they both went into the sleeping-room, and there stood a s=
till
larger stone image of St. Christopher, and the King's daughter said to it, =
"If
my father calls, do you answer him." Then the great stone image of St.
Christopher again nodded its head quite quickly and then more and more slow=
ly,
until at last it stood still again.
And the King's son lay down on the threshold, put his hand under his
head and slept. The next morning the King said to him, "Thou hast done=
the
business really well, but I cannot give my daughter away; thou must now wat=
ch a
night by the youngest princess, and then I will consider with myself whether
thou canst have my second daughter to wife, but I shall come every hour mys=
elf,
and when I call thee answer me, and if I call thee and thou answerest not, =
thy
blood shall flow for me."
Then
they once more went to the sleeping-room together, and there was a much gre=
ater
and much taller image of St. Christopher than the two first had been. The
King's daughter said to it, "When my father calls, do thou answer.&quo=
t;
Then the great tall stone image of St. Christopher nodded quite half an hour
with its head, until at length the head stood still again. And the King's s=
on
laid himself down on the threshold of the door and slept. The next morning =
the
King said, "Thou hast indeed watched well, but I cannot give thee my
daughter now; I have a great forest, if thou cuttest it down for me between=
six
o'clock this morning and six at night, I will think about it." Then he=
gave
him a glass axe, a glass wedge, and a glass mallet. When he got into the wo=
od,
he began at once to cut, but the axe broke in two, then he took the wedge, =
and
struck it once with the mallet, and it became as short and as small as sand.
Then he was much troubled and believed he would have to die, and sat down a=
nd
wept.
Now
when it was noon the King said, "One of you girls must take him someth=
ing
to eat." "No," said the two eldest, "We will not take i=
t to
him; the one by whom he last watched, can take him something." Then th=
e youngest
was forced to go and take him something to eat. When she got into the fores=
t,
she asked him how he was getting on? "Oh," said he, "I am
getting on very badly." Then she said he was to come and just eat a
little. "Nay," said he, "I cannot do that, I shall still hav=
e to
die, so I will eat no more." Then she spoke so kindly to him and begged
him just to try, that he came and ate something. When he had eaten somethin=
g she
said, "I will comb thy hair a while, and then thou wilt feel
happier."
So she
combed his hair, and he became weary and fell asleep, and then she took her
handkerchief and made a knot in it, and struck it three times on the earth,=
and
said, "Earth-workers, come forth." In a moment, numbers of little
earth-men came forth, and asked what the King's daughter commanded? Then sa=
id
she, "In three hours' time the great forest must be cut down, and the
whole of the wood laid in heaps." So the little earth-men went about a=
nd
got together the whole of their kindred to help them with the work. They be=
gan
at once, and when the three hours were over, all was done, and they came ba=
ck
to the King's daughter and told her so. Then she took her white handkerchief
again and said, "Earth-workers, go home." On this they all
disappeared. When the King's son awoke, he was delighted, and she said,
"Come home when it has struck six o'clock." He did as she told hi=
m,
and then the King asked, "Hast thou made away with the forest?"
"Yes," said the King's son. When they were sitting at table, the =
King
said, "I cannot yet give thee my daughter to wife, thou must still do
something more for her sake." So he asked what it was to be, then? &qu=
ot;I
have a great fish-pond," said the King. "Thou must go to it to-mo=
rrow
morning and clear it of all mud until it is as bright as a mirror, and fill=
it
with every kind of fish." The
next morning the King gave him a glass shovel and said, "The fish-pond
must be done by six o'clock." So he went away, and when he came to the
fish-pond he stuck his shovel in the mud and it broke in two, then he stuck=
his
hoe in the mud, and broke it also. Then he was much troubled. At noon the y=
oungest
daughter brought him something to eat, and asked him how he was getting
on? So the King's son said
everything was going very ill with him, and he would certainly have to lose=
his
head. "My tools have broken to pieces again." "Oh," said
she, "thou must just come and eat something, and then thou wilt be in
another frame of mind." "No," said he, "I cannot eat, I=
am
far too unhappy for that!" Then she gave him many good words until at =
last
he came and ate something. Then she combed his hair again, and he fell asle=
ep,
so once more she took her handkerchief, tied a knot in it, and struck the
ground thrice with the knot, and said, "Earth-workers, come forth.&quo=
t;
In a moment a great many little earth-men came and asked what she desired, =
and
she told them that in three hours' time, they must have the fish-pond entir=
ely
cleaned out, and it must be so clear that people could see themselves refle=
cted
in it, and every kind of fish must be in it. The little earth-men went away=
and
summoned all their kindred to help them, and in two hours it was done. Then
they returned to her and said, "We have done as thou hast commanded.&q=
uot;
The King's daughter took the handkerchief and once more struck thrice on the
ground with it, and said, "Earth-workers, go home again." Then th=
ey
all went away.
When
the King's son awoke the fish-pond was done. Then the King's daughter went =
away
also, and told him that when it was six he was to come to the house. When he arrived at the house the K=
ing
asked, "Hast thou got the fish-pond done?" "Yes," said =
the
King's son. That was very good.
When
they were again sitting at table the King said, "Thou hast certainly d=
one
the fish-pond, but I cannot give thee my daughter yet; thou must just do one
thing more." "What is that, then?" asked the King's son. The=
King
said he had a great mountain on which there was nothing but briars which mu=
st
all be cut down, and at the top of it the youth must build up a great castl=
e,
which must be as strong as could be conceived, and all the furniture and
fittings belonging to a castle must be inside it. And when he arose next
morning the King gave him a glass axe and a glass gimlet with him, and he w=
as
to have all done by six o'clock. As he was cutting down the first briar with
the axe, it broke off short, and so small that the pieces flew all round ab=
out,
and he could not use the gimlet either. Then he was quite miserable, and wa=
ited
for his dearest to see if she would not come and help him in his need. When=
it
was mid-day she came and brought him something to eat. He went to meet her =
and
told her all, and ate something, and let her comb his hair and fell asleep.
Then she once more took the knot and struck the earth with it, and said, &q=
uot;Earth-workers,
come forth!" Then came once again numbers of earth-men, and asked what=
her
desire was. Then said she, "In the space of three hours they must cut =
down
the whole of the briars, and a castle must be built on the top of the mount=
ain
that must be as strong as any one could conceive, and all the furniture that
pertains to a castle must be inside it." They went away, and summoned
their kindred to help them and when the time was come, all was ready. Then =
they
came to the King's daughter and told her so, and the King's daughter took h=
er
handkerchief and struck thrice on the earth with it, and said,
"Earth-workers, go home," on which they all disappeared. When
therefore the King's son awoke and saw everything done, he was as happy as a
bird in air.
When
it had struck six, they went home together. Then said the King, "Is the
castle ready?" "Yes," said the King's son. When they sat dow=
n to
table, the King said, "I cannot give away my youngest daughter until t=
he two
eldest are married." The=
n the
King's son and the King's daughter were quite troubled, and the King's son =
had
no idea what to do. But he went by night to the King's daughter and ran away
with her. When they had got a little distance away, the King's daughter pee=
ped
round and saw her father behind her. "Oh," said she, "what a=
re
we to do? My father is behind us, and will take us back with him. I will at
once change thee into a briar, and myself into a rose, and I will shelter
myself in the midst of the bush." When the father reached the place, t=
here
stood a briar with one rose on it, then he was about to gather the rose, wh=
en
the thorn came and pricked his finger so that he was forced to go home agai=
n.
His wife asked why he had not brought their daughter back with him? So he s=
aid
he had nearly got up to her, but that all at once he had lost sight of her,=
and
a briar with one rose was growing on the spot.
Then
said the Queen, "If thou hadst but gathered the rose, the briar would =
have
been forced to come too." So he went back again to fetch the rose, but=
in
the meantime the two were already far over the plain, and the King ran after
them. Then the daughter once =
more
looked round and saw her father coming, and said, "Oh, what shall we do
now? I will instantly change thee into a church and myself into a priest, a=
nd I
will stand up in the pulpit, and preach." When the King got to the pla=
ce, there
stood a church, and in the pulpit was a priest preaching. So he listened to=
the
sermon, and then went home again.
Then
the Queen asked why he had not brought their daughter with him, and he said,
"Nay, I ran a long time after her, and just as I thought I should soon
overtake her, a church was standing there and a priest was in the pulpit
preaching." "Thou shouldst just have brought the priest," sa=
id
his wife, "and then the church would soon have come. It is no use to s=
end
thee, I must go there myself." When she had walked for some time, and
could see the two in the distance, the King's daughter peeped round and saw=
her
mother coming, and said, "Now we are undone, for my mother is coming
herself: I will immediately change thee into a fish-pond and myself into a
fish.
When
the mother came to the place, there was a large fish-pond, and in the midst=
of
it a fish was leaping about and peeping out of the water, and it was quite
merry. She wanted to catch the fish, but she could not. Then she was very
angry, and drank up the whole pond in order to catch the fish, but it made =
her
so ill that she was forced to vomit, and vomited the whole pond out again. =
Then
she cried, "I see very well that nothing can be done now," and sa=
id
that now they might come back to her. Then the King's daughter went back ag=
ain,
and the Queen gave her daughter three walnuts, and said, "With these t=
hou
canst help thyself when thou art in thy greatest need." So the young f=
olks
went once more away together. And when they had walked quite ten miles, the=
y arrived
at the castle from whence the King's son came, and close by it was a villag=
e.
When they reached it, the King's son said, "Stay here, my dearest, I w=
ill
just go to the castle, and then will I come with a carriage and with attend=
ants
to fetch thee."
When
he got to the castle they all rejoiced greatly at having the King's son back
again, and he told them he had a bride who was now in the village, and they
must go with the carriage to fetch her. Then they harnessed the horses at o=
nce,
and many attendants seated themselves outside the carriage. When the King's=
son
was about to get in, his mother gave him a kiss, and he forgot everything w=
hich
had happened, and also what he was about to do. On this his mother ordered =
the
horses to be taken out of the carriage again, and everyone went back into t=
he house.
But the maiden sat in the village and watched and watched, and thought he w=
ould
come and fetch her, but no one came. Then the King's daughter took service =
in
the mill which belonged to the castle, and was obliged to sit by the pond e=
very
afternoon and clean the tubs.
And
the Queen came one day on foot from the castle, and went walking by the pon=
d,
and saw the well-grown maiden sitting there, and said, "What a fine st=
rong
girl that is! She pleases me well!" Then she and all with her looked at
the maid, but no one knew her. So a long time passed by during which the ma=
iden
served the miller honorably and faithfully. In the meantime, the Queen had
sought a wife for her son, who came from quite a distant part of the world.
When the bride came, they were at once to be married. And many people hurri=
ed
together, all of whom wanted to see everything. Then the girl said to the
miller that he might be so good as to give her leave to go also. So the mil=
ler
said, "Yes, do go there."
When she was about to go, she opened one of the three walnuts, and a
beautiful dress lay inside it. She put it on, and went into the church and
stood by the altar. Suddenly =
came
the bride and bridegroom, and seated themselves before the altar, and when =
the
priest was just going to bless them, the bride peeped half round and saw th=
e maiden
standing there. Then she stood up again, and said she would not be given aw=
ay
until she also had as beautiful a dress as that lady there. So they went ba=
ck
to the house again, and sent to ask the lady if she would sell that dress. =
No,
she would not sell it, but the bride might perhaps earn it. Then the bride
asked her how she was to do this? Then the maiden said if she might sleep o=
ne
night outside the King's son's door, the bride might have what she wanted.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> So the bride said, "Yes, she =
was
willing to do that." But the servants were ordered to give the King's =
son
a sleeping-drink, and then the maiden laid herself down on the threshold and
lamented all night long. She had had the forest cut down for him, she had h=
ad
the fish-pond cleaned out for him, she had had the castle built for him, she
had changed him into a briar, and then into a church, and at last into a
fish-pond, and yet he had forgotten her so quickly. The King's son did not =
hear
one word of it, but the servants had been awakened, and had listened to it,=
and
had not known what it could mean. The next morning when they were all up, t=
he
bride put on the dress, and went away to the church with the bridegroom. In=
the
meantime the maiden opened the second walnut, and a still more beautiful dr=
ess was
inside it. She put it on, and went and stood by the altar in the church, and
everything happened as it had happened the time before. And the maiden again
lay all night on the threshold which led to the chamber of the King's son, =
and
the servant was once more to give him a sleeping-drink. The servant, howeve=
r,
went to him and gave him something to keep him awake, and then the King's s=
on
went to bed, and the miller's maiden bemoaned herself as before on the
threshold of the door, and told of all that she had done. All this the King=
's
son heard, and was sore troubled, and what was past came back to him. Then he wanted to go to her, but h=
is
mother had locked the door. The next morning, however, he went at once to h=
is
beloved, and told her everything which had happened to him, and prayed her =
not
to be angry with him for having forgotten her. Then the King's daughter ope=
ned
the third walnut, and within it was a still more magnificent dress, which s=
he
put on, and went with her bridegroom to church, and numbers of children came
who gave them flowers, and offered them gay ribbons to bind about their fee=
t,
and they were blessed by the priest, and had a merry wedding. But the false
mother and the bride had to depart. And the mouth of the person who last to=
ld all
this is still warm.
There
was once on a time a princess who was extremely proud. If a wooer came she =
gave
him some riddle to guess, and if he could not find it out, he was sent
contemptuously away. She let it be made known also that whosoever solved her
riddle should marry her, let him be who he might. At length, therefore, thr=
ee
tailors fell in with each other, the two eldest of whom thought they had do=
ne
so many dexterous bits of work successfully that they could not fail to suc=
ceed
in this also; the third was a little useless land-louper, who did not even =
know
his trade, but thought he must have some luck in this venture, for where el=
se
was it to come from? Then the two others said to him, "Just stay at ho=
me; thou
canst not do much with thy little bit of understanding." The little ta=
ilor,
however, did not let himself be discouraged, and said he had set his head to
work about this for once, and he would manage well enough, and he went fort=
h as
if the whole world were his.
They
all three announced themselves to the princess, and said she was to propound
her riddle to them, and that the right persons were now come, who had
understandings so fine that they could be threaded in a needle. Then said t=
he
princess, "I have two kinds of hair on my head, of what color is it?&q=
uot;
"If that be all," said the first, "it must be black and whit=
e, like
the cloth which is called pepper and salt." The princess said, "W=
rongly
guessed; let the second answer."
Then said the second, "If it be not black and white, then it is
brown and red, like my father's company coat." "Wrongly
guessed," said the princess, "let the third give the answer, for I
see very well he knows it for certain." Then the little tailor stepped
boldly forth and said, "The princess has a silver and a golden hair on=
her
head, and those are the two different colors." When the princess heard
that, she turned pale and nearly fell down with terror, for the little tail=
or
had guessed her riddle, and she had firmly believed that no man on earth co=
uld
discover it. When her courage returned she said, "Thou hast not won me=
yet
by that; there is still something else that thou must do. Below, in the sta=
ble
is a bear with which thou shalt pass the night, and when I get up in the
morning if thou art still alive, thou shalt marry me." She expected,
however, she should thus get rid of the tailor, for the bear had never yet =
left
any one alive who had fallen into his clutches. The little tailor did not l=
et
himself be frightened away, but was quite delighted, and said, "Boldly
ventured is half won."
When
therefore the evening came, our little tailor was taken down to the bear. The bear was about to set at the l=
ittle
fellow at once, and give him a hearty welcome with his paws: "Softly,
softly," said the little tailor, "I will soon make thee quiet.&qu=
ot;
Then quite composedly, and as if he had not an anxiety in the world, he took
some nuts out of his pocket, cracked them, and ate the kernels. When the be=
ar
saw that, he was seized with a desire to have some nuts too. The tailor fel=
t in
his pockets, and reached him a handful; they were, however, not nuts, but
pebbles. The bear put them in his mouth, but could get nothing out of them,=
let
him bite as he would. "Eh!" thought he, "what a stupid block=
head
I am! I cannot even crack a nut!" and then he said to the tailor,
"Here, crack me the nuts." "There, see what a stupid fellow =
thou
art!" said the little tailor, "to have such a great mouth, and no=
t be
able to crack a small nut!" Then he took the pebble and nimbly put a n=
ut
in his mouth in the place of it, and crack, it was in two! "I must try=
the
thing again," said the bear; "when I watch you, I then think I ou=
ght
to be able to do it too." So the tailor once more gave him a pebble, a=
nd
the bear tried and tried to bite into it with all the strength of his body.=
But
no one will imagine that he accomplished it. When that was over, the tailor
took out a violin from beneath his coat, and played a piece of it to himsel=
f.
When the bear heard the music, he could not help beginning to dance, and wh=
en
he had danced a while, the thing pleased him so well that he said to the li=
ttle
tailor, "Hark you, is the fiddle heavy?" "Light enough for a
child. Look, with the left hand I lay my fingers on it, and with the right I
stroke it with the bow, and then it goes merrily, hop sa sa vivallalera!&qu=
ot;
"So," said the bear; "fiddling is a thing I should like to
understand too, that I might dance whenever I had a fancy. What dost thou t=
hink
of that? Wilt thou give me
lessons?" "With all my heart," said the tailor, "if thou
hast a talent for it. But just let me see thy claws, they are terribly long=
, I
must cut thy nails a little." Then a vise was brought, and the bear put
his claws in it, and the little tailor screwed it tight, and said, "Now
wait until I come with the scissors," and he let the bear growl as he =
liked,
and lay down in the corner on a bundle of straw, and fell asleep.
When
the princess heard the bear growling so fiercely during the night, she beli=
eved
nothing else but that he was growling for joy, and had made an end of the
tailor. In the morning she arose careless and happy, but when she peeped in=
to
the stable, the tailor stood gaily before her, and was as healthy as a fish=
in
water. Now she could not say another word against the wedding because she h=
ad
given a promise before every one, and the King ordered a carriage to be bro=
ught
in which she was to drive to church with the tailor, and there she was to be
married. When they had got into the carriage, the two other tailors, who had
false hearts and envied him his good fortune, went into the stable and
unscrewed the bear again. The bear in great fury ran after the carriage. The
princess heard him snorting and growling; she was terrified, and she cried,=
"Ah,
the bear is behind us and wants to get thee!" The tailor was quick and
stood on his head, stuck his legs out of the window, and cried, "Dost =
thou
see the vise? If thou dost not be off thou shalt be put into it again."
When the bear saw that, he turned round and ran away. The tailor drove quie=
tly
to church, and the princess was married to him at once, and he lived with h=
er
as happy as a woodlark. Whoso=
ever
does not believe this, must pay a thaler.
A
tailor's apprentice was travelling about the world in search of work, and at
one time he could find none, and his poverty was so great that he had not a
farthing to live on. Presently he met a Jew on the road, and as he thought =
he
would have a great deal of money about him, the tailor thrust God out of his
heart, fell on the Jew, and said, "Give me thy money, or I will strike
thee dead." Then said the Jew, "Grant me my life, I have no money=
but
eight farthings." But the tailor said, "Money thou hast; and it s=
hall
be produced," and used violence and beat him until he was near death. =
And
when the Jew was dying, the last words he said were, "The bright sun w=
ill
bring it to light," and thereupon he died. The tailor's apprentice fel=
t in
his pockets and sought for money, but he found nothing but eight farthings,=
as
the Jew had said. Then he took him up and carried him behind a clump of tre=
es,
and went onwards to seek work. After he had traveled about a long while, he=
got
work in a town with a master who had a pretty daughter, with whom he fell in
love, and he married her, and lived in good and happy wedlock.
After
a long time when he and his wife had two children, the wife's father and mo=
ther
died, and the young people kept house alone. One morning, when the husband =
was
sitting on the table before the window, his wife brought him his coffee, and
when he had poured it out into the saucer, and was just going to drink, the=
sun
shone on it and the reflection gleamed hither and thither on the wall above,
and made circles on it. Then the tailor looked up and said, "Yes, it w=
ould
like very much to bring it to light, and cannot!" The woman said,
"Oh, dear husband, and what is that, then?" "What dost thou =
mean
by that?" He answered, "I must not tell thee." But she said,
"If thou lovest me, thou must tell me," and used her most
affectionate words, and said that no one should ever know it, and left him =
no
rest. Then he told her how years ago, when he was travelling about seeking =
work
and quite worn out and penniless, he had killed a Jew, and that in the last
agonies of death, the Jew had spoken the words, "The bright sun will b=
ring
it to light." And now, the sun had just wanted to bring it to light, a=
nd
had gleamed and made circles on the wall, but had not been able to do it. A=
fter
this, he again charged her particularly never to tell this, or he would los=
e his
life, and she did promise. When however, he had sat down to work again, she
went to her great friend and confided the story to her, but she was never to
repeat it to any human being, but before two days were over, the whole town
knew it, and the tailor was brought to trial, and condemned. And thus, after
all, the bright sun did bring it to light.
There
was once on a time a soldier who for many years had served the King faithfu=
lly,
but when the war came to an end could serve no longer because of the many
wounds which he had received. The King said to him, "Thou mayst return=
to
thy home, I need thee no longer, and thou wilt not receive any more money, =
for
he only receives wages who renders me service for them." Then the sold=
ier
did not know how to earn a living, went away greatly troubled, and walked t=
he
whole day, until in the evening he entered a forest. When darkness came on,=
he
saw a light, which he went up to, and came to a house wherein lived a witch=
. "Do
give me one night's lodging, and a little to eat and drink," said he to
her, "or I shall starve." "Oho!" she answered, "who
gives anything to a run-away soldier?
Yet will I be compassionate, and take you in, if you will do what I
wish." "What do you wish?" said the soldier. "That you =
should
dig all round my garden for me, tomorrow." The soldier consented, and =
next
day labored with all his strength, but could not finish it by the evening.
"I see well enough," said the witch, "that you can do no mor=
e to-day,
but I will keep you yet another night, in payment for which you must to-mor=
row
chop me a load of wood, and make it small." The soldier spent the whole
day in doing it, and in the evening the witch proposed that he should stay =
one
night more. "To-morrow, you shall only do me a very trifling piece of
work. Behind my house, there is an old dry well, into which my light has
fallen, it burns blue, and never goes out, and you shall bring it up again =
for
me." Next day the old woman took him to the well, and let him down in a
basket. He found the blue light, and made her a signal to draw him up again.
She did draw him up, but when he came near the edge, she stretched down her
hand and wanted to take the blue light away from him. "No," said =
he,
perceiving her evil intention, "I will not give thee the light until I=
am
standing with both feet upon the ground." The witch fell into a passio=
n,
let him down again into the well, and went away.
The
poor soldier fell without injury on the moist ground, and the blue light we=
nt
on burning, but of what use was that to him? He saw very well that he could=
not
escape death. He sat for a while very sorrowfully, then suddenly he felt in=
his
pocket and found his tobacco pipe, which was still half full. "This sh=
all
be my last pleasure," thought he, pulled it out, lit it at the blue li=
ght
and began to smoke. When the =
smoke
had circled about the cavern, suddenly a little black dwarf stood before hi=
m,
and said, "Lord, what are thy commands?" "What commands have=
I
to give thee?" replied the soldier, quite astonished. "I must do
everything thou biddest me," said the little man. "Good," sa=
id
the soldier; "then in the first place help me out of this well." =
The
little man took him by the hand, and led him through an underground passage=
, but
he did not forget to take the blue light with him. On the way the dwarf sho=
wed
him the treasures which the witch had collected and hidden there, and the
soldier took as much gold as he could carry. When he was above, he said to the =
little
man, "Now go and bind the old witch, and carry her before the judge.&q=
uot;
In a short time she, with frightful cries, came riding by, as swift as the =
wind
on a wild tom-cat, nor was it long after that before the little man
re-appeared. "It is all done," said he, "and the witch is
already hanging on the gallows. What further commands has my lord?"
inquired the dwarf. "At this moment, none," answered the soldier;
"Thou canst return home, only be at hand immediately, if I summon
thee." "Nothing more is needed than that thou shouldst light thy =
pipe
at the blue light, and I will appear before thee at once." Thereupon he
vanished from his sight.
The
soldier returned to the town from which he had come. He went to the best in=
n,
ordered himself handsome clothes, and then bade the landlord furnish him a =
room
as handsomely as possible. When it was ready and the soldier had taken
possession of it, he summoned the little black mannikin and said, "I h=
ave
served the King faithfully, but he has dismissed me, and left me to hunger,=
and
now I want to take my revenge." "What am I to do?" asked the
little man. "Late at night, when the King's daughter is in bed, bring =
her
here in her sleep, she shall do servant's work for me." The mannikin s=
aid,
"That is an easy thing for me to do, but a very dangerous thing for yo=
u,
for if it is discovered, you will fare ill." When twelve o'clock had
struck, the door sprang open, and the mannikin carried in the princess.
"Aha! art thou there?" cried the soldier, "get to thy work at
once! Fetch the broom and sweep the chamber." When she had done this, =
he
ordered her to come to his chair, and then he stretched out his feet and sa=
id,
"Pull off my boots for me," and then he threw them in her face, a=
nd
made her pick them up again, and clean and brighten them. She, however, did
everything he bade her, without opposition, silently and with half-shut eye=
s.
When the first cock crowed, the mannikin carried her back to the royal pala=
ce,
and laid her in her bed.
Next
morning when the princess arose, she went to her father, and told him that =
she
had had a very strange dream. "I was carried through the streets with =
the
rapidity of lightning," said she, "and taken into a soldier's roo=
m,
and I had to wait upon him like a servant, sweep his room, clean his boots,=
and
do all kinds of menial work. It was only a dream, and yet I am just as tire=
d as
if I really had done everything." "The dream may have been
true," said the King, "I will give thee a piece of advice. Fill t=
hy
pocket full of peas, and make a small hole in it, and then if thou art carr=
ied
away again, they will fall out and leave a track in the streets." But
unseen by the King, the mannikin was standing beside him when he said that,=
and
heard all. At night when the sleeping princess was again carried through the
streets, some peas certainly did fall out of her pocket, but they made no
track, for the crafty mannikin had just before scattered peas in every stre=
et
there was. And again the princess was compelled to do servant's work until
cock-crow.
Next
morning the King sent his people out to seek the track, but it was all in v=
ain,
for in every street poor children were sitting, picking up peas, and saying,
"It must have rained peas, last night." "We must think of
something else," said the King; "keep thy shoes on when thou goes=
t to
bed, and before thou comest back from the place where thou art taken, hide =
one
of them there, I will soon contrive to find it." The black mannikin he=
ard
this plot, and at night when the soldier again ordered him to bring the
princess, revealed it to him, and told him that he knew of no expedient to
counteract this stratagem, and that if the shoe were found in the soldier's
house it would go badly with him. "Do what I bid thee," replied t=
he
soldier, and again this third night the princess was obliged to work like a
servant, but before she went away, she hid her shoe under the bed.
Next
morning the King had the entire town searched for his daughter's shoe. It w=
as
found at the soldier's, and the soldier himself, who at the entreaty of the
dwarf had gone outside the gate, was soon brought back, and thrown into pri=
son.
In his flight he had forgotten the most valuable things he had, the blue li=
ght
and the gold, and had only one ducat in his pocket. And now loaded with cha=
ins,
he was standing at the window of his dungeon, when he chanced to see one of=
his
comrades passing by. The soldier tapped at the pane of glass, and when this=
man
came up, said to him, "Be so kind as to fetch me the small bundle I ha=
ve
left lying in the inn, and I will give you a ducat for doing it." His
comrade ran thither and brought him what he wanted. As soon as the soldier =
was
alone again, he lighted his pipe and summoned the black mannikin. "Hav=
e no
fear," said the latter to his master. "Go wheresoever they take y=
ou,
and let them do what they will, only take the blue light with you." Ne=
xt
day the soldier was tried, and though he had done nothing wicked, the judge=
condemned
him to death. When he was led forth to die, he begged a last favor of the K=
ing.
"What is it?" asked the King.&nb=
sp;
"That I may smoke one more pipe on my way." "Thou may=
st
smoke three," answered the King, "but do not imagine that I will
spare thy life." Then the soldier pulled out his pipe and lighted it at
the blue light, and as soon as a few wreaths of smoke had ascended, the
mannikin was there with a small cudgel in his hand, and said, "What do=
es
my lord command?" "Strike down to earth that false judge there, a=
nd
his constable, and spare not the King who has treated me so ill." Then=
the
mannikin fell on them like lightning, darting this way and that way, and wh=
osoever
was so much as touched by his cudgel fell to earth, and did not venture to =
stir
again. The King was terrified; he threw himself on the soldier's mercy, and
merely to be allowed to live at all, gave him his kingdom for his own, and =
the princess
to wife.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>117 The Wilful Child<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
Once
upon a time there was a child who was willful, and would not do at her moth=
er
wished. For this reason God had no pleasure in her, and let her become ill,=
and
no doctor could do her any good, and in a short time she lay on her death-b=
ed.
When she had been lowered into her grave, and the earth was spread over her,
all at once her arm came out again, and stretched upwards, and when they had
put it in and spread fresh earth over it, it was all to no purpose, for the=
arm
always came out again. Then the mother herself was obliged to go to the gra=
ve,
and strike the arm with a rod, and when she had done that, it was drawn in,=
and
then at last the child had rest beneath the ground.
Three
army-surgeons who thought they knew their art perfectly, were travelling ab=
out
the world, and they came to an inn where they wanted to pass the night. The host asked whence they came, a=
nd
whither they were going? "We are roaming about the world and practising
our art." "Just show me for once in a way what you can do," =
said
the host. Then the first said he would cut off his hand, and put it on again
early next morning; the second said he would tear out his heart, and replac=
e it
next morning; the third said he would cut out his eyes and heal them again =
next
morning. "If you can do that," said the innkeeper, "you have
learnt everything." They, however, had a salve, with which they rubbed
themselves, which joined parts together, and they carried the little bottle=
in
which it was, constantly with them. Then they cut the hand, heart and eyes =
from
their bodies as they had said they would, and laid them all together on a
plate, and gave it to the innkeeper. The innkeeper gave it to a servant who=
was
to set it in the cupboard, and take good care of it. The girl, however, had=
a
lover in secret, who was a soldier. When therefore the innkeeper, the three
army-surgeons, and everyone else in the house were asleep, the soldier came=
and
wanted something to eat. The girl opened the cupboard and brought him some
food, and in her love forgot to shut the cupboard-door again; She seated
herself at the table by her lover, and they chattered away together. While =
she
sat so contentedly there, thinking of no ill luck, the cat came creeping in=
, found
the cupboard open, took the hand and heart and eyes of the three army-surge=
ons,
and ran off with them. When t=
he
soldier had done eating, and the girl was taking away the things and going =
to
shut the cupboard she saw that the plate which the innkeeper had given her =
to
take care of, was empty. Then she said in a fright to her lover, "Ah,
miserable girl, what shall I do? The hand is gone, the heart and the eyes a=
re
gone too, what will become of me in the morning?" "Be easy,"
said he, "I will help thee out of thy trouble there is a thief hanging
outside on the gallows, I will cut off his hand. Which hand was it?"
"The right one." Then the girl gave him a sharp knife, and he went
and cut the poor sinner's right hand off, and brought it to her. After this=
he
caught the cat and cut its eyes out, and now nothing but the heart was want=
ing.
"Have you not been killing, and are not the dead pigs in the cellar?&q=
uot;
said he. "Yes," said the girl. "That's well," said the
soldier, and he went down and fetched a pig's heart. The girl placed all
together on the plate, and put it in the cupboard, and when after this her
lover took leave of her, she went quietly to bed.
In the
morning when the three army-surgeons got up, they told the girl she was to
bring them the plate on which the hand, heart, and eyes were lying. Then she
brought it out of the cupboard, and the first fixed the thief's hand on and
smeared it with his salve, and it grew to his arm directly. The second took=
the
cat's eyes and put them in his own head. The third fixed the pig's heart fi=
rm
in the place where his own had been, and the innkeeper stood by, admired th=
eir
skill, and said he had never yet seen such a thing as that done, and would =
sing
their praises and recommend them to everyone. Then they paid their bill, and
travelled farther.
As
they were on their way, the one with the pig's heart did not stay with them=
at
all, but wherever there was a corner he ran to it, and rooted about in it w=
ith
his nose as pigs do. The others wanted to hold him back by the tail of his
coat, but that did no good; he tore himself loose, and ran wherever the dirt
was thickest. The second also
behaved very strangely; he rubbed his eyes, and said to the others,
"Comrades, what is the matter? I don't see at all. Will one of you lea=
d me,
so that I do not fall." Then with difficulty they travelled on till
evening, when they reached another inn. They went into the bar together, and
there at a table in the corner sat a rich man counting money. The one with =
the thief's
hand walked round about him, made a sudden movement twice with his arm, and=
at
last when the stranger turned away, he snatched at the pile of money, and t=
ook
a handful from it. One of them saw this, and said, "Comrade, what art =
thou
about? Thou must not steal shame on thee!" "Eh," said he,
"but how can I stop myself? My hand twitches, and I am forced to snatch
things whether I will or not."
After
this, they lay down to sleep, and while they were lying there it was so dark
that no one could see his own hand. All at once the one with the cat's eyes
awoke, aroused the others, and said. "Brothers, just look up, do you s=
ee
the white mice running about there?" The two sat up, but could see
nothing. Then said he, "Things are not right with us, we have not got =
back
again what is ours. We must r=
eturn
to the innkeeper, he has deceived us." They went back therefore, the n=
ext morning,
and told the host they had not got what was their own again; that the first=
had
a thief's hand, the second cat's eyes, and the third a pig's heart. The inn=
keeper
said that the girl must be to blame for that, and was going to call her, but
when she had seen the three coming, she had run out by the backdoor, and not
come back. Then the three said he must give them a great deal of money, or =
they
would set his house on fire. He gave them what he had, and whatever he could
get together, and the three went away with it. It was enough for the rest of
their lives, but they would rather have had their own proper organs.
Seven
Swabians were once together. The first was Master Schulz; the second, Jackl=
i;
the third, Marli; the fourth, Jergli; the fifth, Michal; the sixth, Hans; t=
he
seventh, Veitli: all seven had made up their minds to travel about the worl=
d to
seek adventures, and perform great deeds. But in order that they might go in
security and with arms in their hands, they thought it would be advisable t=
hat
they should have one solitary, but very strong, and very long spear made for
them. This spear all seven of=
them
took in their hands at once; in front walked the boldest and bravest, and t=
hat
was Master Schulz; all the others followed in a row, and Veitli was the las=
t.
Then it came to pass one day in the hay-making month (July), when they had
walked a long distance, and still had a long way to go before they reached =
the
village where they were to pass the night, that as they were in a meadow in=
the
twilight a great beetle or hornet flew by them from behind a bush, and humm=
ed in
a menacing manner. Master Schulz was so terrified that he all but dropped t=
he
spear, and a cold perspiration broke out over his whole body. "Hark!
hark!" cried he to his comrades, "Good heavens! I hear a drum.&qu=
ot;
Jackli, who was behind him holding the spear, and who perceived some kind o=
f a
smell, said, "Something is most certainly going on, for I taste powder=
and
matches." At these words Master Schulz began to take to flight, and in=
a
trice jumped over a hedge, but as he just happened to jump on to the teeth =
of a
rake which had been left lying there after the hay-making, the handle of it
struck against his face and gave him a tremendous blow. "Oh dear! Oh
dear!" screamed Master Schulz. "Take me prisoner; I surrender! I
surrender!" The other six all leapt over, one on the top of the other,
crying, "If you surrender, I surrender too! If you surrender, I surrender too!=
"
At length, as no enemy was there to bind and take them away, they saw that =
they
had been mistaken, and in order that the story might not be known, and they=
be
treated as fools and ridiculed, they all swore to each other to hold their
peace about it until one of them accidentally spoke of it. Then they journe=
yed
onwards. The second danger which they survived cannot be compared with the
first. Some days afterwards, their path led them through a fallow-field whe=
re a
hare was sitting sleeping in the sun. Her ears were standing straight up, a=
nd
her great glassy eyes were wide open. All of them were alarmed at the sight=
of
the horrible wild beast, and they consulted together as to what it would be=
the
least dangerous to do. For if they were to run away, they knew that the mon=
ster
would pursue and swallow them whole. So they said, "We must go through=
a
great and dangerous struggle. Boldly ventured, is half won," and all s=
even
grasped the spear, Master Schulz in front, and Veitli behind. Master Schulz was always trying to=
keep
the spear back, but Veitli had become quite brave while behind, and wanted =
to
dash forward and cried,
"Strike home, in every Swabian=
's
name, Or else I wish ye may be
lame."
But
Hans knew how to meet this, and said,
"Thunder and lightning, it's f=
ine to
prate, But for dragon-hunting
thou'rt aye too late."
Michal
cried,
"Nothing is wanting, not even a
hair, Be sure the Devil himse=
lf is
there."
Then
it was Jergli's turn to speak,
"If it be not, it's at least h=
is
mother, Or else it's the Devi=
l's
own step-brother."
And
now Marli had a bright thought, and said to Veitli,
"Advance, Veitli, advance, adv=
ance, And I behind will hold the lance.&q=
uot;
Veitli,
however, did not attend to that, and Jackli said,
"Tis Schulz's place the first =
to be,
No one deserves that honor but
he."
Then
Master Schulz plucked up his courage, and said, gravely,
"Then let us boldly advance to=
the
fight, And thus we shall show=
our
valour and might."
Hereupon
they all together set on the dragon. Master Schulz crossed himself and pray=
ed
for God's assistance, but as all this was of no avail, and he was getting
nearer and nearer to the enemy, he screamed "Oho! oho! ho! ho! ho!&quo=
t;
in the greatest anguish. This awakened the hare, which in great alarm darted
swiftly away. When Master Schulz saw her thus flying from the field of batt=
le,
he cried in his joy.
"Quick, Veitli, quick, look th=
ere,
look there, The monster's not=
hing
but a hare!"
But
the Swabian allies went in search of further adventures, and came to the
Moselle, a mossy, quiet, deep river, over which there are few bridges, and
which in many places people have to cross in boats. As the seven Swabians d=
id
not know this, they called to a man who was working on the opposite side of=
the
river, to know how people contrived to get across. The distance and their w=
ay
of speaking made the man unable to understand what they wanted, and he said
"What? what?" in the way people speak in the neighborhood of Trev=
es.
Master Schulz thought he was saying, "Wade, wade through the water,&qu=
ot;
and as he was the first, began to set out and went into the moselle. It was=
not
long before he sank in the mud and the deep waves which drove against him, =
but
his hat was blown on the opposite shore by the wind, and a frog sat down be=
side
it, and croaked "Wat, wat, wat." The other six on the opposite si=
de
heard that, and said, "Oho, comrades, Master Schulz is calling us; if =
he
can wade across, why cannot we?" So they all jumped into the water tog=
ether
in a great hurry, and were drowned, and thus one frog took the lives of all=
six
of them, and not one of the Swabian allies ever reached home again.
There
were once three apprentices, who had agreed to keep always together while
travelling, and always to work in the same town. At one time, however, their
masters had no more work to give them, so that at last they were in rags, a=
nd
had nothing to live on. Then one of them said, "What shall we do? We
cannot stay here any longer, we will travel once more, and if we do not find
any work in the town we go to, we will arrange with the innkeeper there, th=
at
we are to write and tell him where we are staying, so that we can always ha=
ve
news of each other, and then we will separate." And that seemed best to
the others also. They went forth, and met on the way a richly-dressed man w=
ho
asked who they were. "We are apprentices looking for work; Up to this =
time
we have kept together, but if we cannot find anything to do we are going to=
separate."
"There is no need for that," said the man, "if you will do w=
hat
I tell you, you shall not want for gold or for work; nay, you shall become
great lords, and drive in your carriages!" One of them said, "If =
our
souls and salvation be not endangered, we will certainly do it."
"They will not," replied the man, "I have no claim on you.&q=
uot;
One of the others had, however, looked at his feet, and when he saw a horse=
's
foot and a man's foot, he did not want to have anything to do with him. The
Devil, however, said, "Be easy, I have no designs on you, but on anoth=
er
soul, which is half my own already, and whose measure shall but run full.&q=
uot;
As they were now secure, they consented, and the Devil told them what he
wanted. The first was to answer, "All three of us," to every
question; the second was to say, "For money," and the third, &quo=
t;And
quite right too!" They were always to say this, one after the other, b=
ut
they were not to say one word more, and if they disobeyed this order, all t=
heir
money would disappear at once, but so long as they observed it, their pocke=
ts
would always be full. As a beginning, he at once gave them as much as they
could carry, and told them to go to such and such an inn when they got to t=
he
town. They went to it, and the innkeeper came to meet them, and asked if th=
ey
wished for anything to eat? The first replied, "All three of us."
"Yes," said the host, "that is what I mean." The second
said, "For money."
"Of course," said the host. The third said, "And quite
right too!" "Certainly it is right," said the host.
Good
meat and drink were now brought to them, and they were well waited on. After the dinner came the payment,=
and
the innkeeper gave the bill to the one who said, "All three of us,&quo=
t;
the second said, "For money," and the third, "and quite right
too!" "Indeed it is right," said the host, "all three p=
ay,
and without money I can give nothing." They, however, paid still more =
than
he had asked. The lodgers, wh=
o were
looking on, said, "These people must be mad." "Yes, indeed t=
hey
are," said the host, "they are not very wise." So they stayed
some time in the inn, and said nothing else but, "All three of us,&quo=
t;
"For money," and "And quite right too!" But they saw and
knew all that was going on. It so happened that a great merchant came with a
large sum of money, and said, "Sir host, take care of my money for me,
here are three crazy apprentices who might steal it from me." The host=
did
as he was asked. As he was carrying the trunk into his room, he felt that it
was heavy with gold. Thereupon he gave the three apprentices a lodging belo=
w,
but the merchant came up-stairs into a separate apartment. When it was
midnight, and the host thought that all were asleep, he came with his wife,=
and
they had an axe and struck the rich merchant dead; and after they had murde=
red
him they went to bed again. When it was day there was a great outcry; the
merchant lay dead in bed bathed in blood. All the guests ran at once but the
host said, "The three crazy apprentices have done this;" the lodg=
ers
confirmed it, and said, "It can have been no one else." The
innkeeper, however, had them called, and said to them, "Have you killed
the merchant?" "All three of us," said the first, "For
money," said the second; and the third added, "And quite right
too!" "There now, you hear," said the host, "they confe=
ss
it themselves." They were taken to prison, therefore, and were to be
tried. When they saw that things were going so seriously, they were after a=
ll
afraid, but at night the Devil came and said, "Bear it just one day
longer, and do not play away your luck, not one hair of your head shall be
hurt."
The
next morning they were led to the bar, and the judge said, "Are you the
murderers?" "All three of us." "Why did you kill the
merchant?" "For money."&nbs=
p;
"You wicked wretches, you have no horror of your sins?"
"And quite right too!"
"They have confessed, and are still stubborn," said the ju=
dge,
"lead them to death instantly." So they were taken out, and the h=
ost
had to go with them into the circle. When they were taken hold of by the
executioner's men, and were just going to be led up to the scaffold where t=
he
headsman was standing with naked sword, a coach drawn by four blood-red
chestnut horses came up suddenly, driving so fast that fire flashed from the
stones, and someone made signs from the window with a white handkerchief. T=
hen
said the headsman, "It is a pardon coming," and "Pardon!
pardon!" was called from the carriage also. Then the Devil stepped out=
as
a very noble gentleman, beautifully dressed, and said, "You three are =
innocent;
you may now speak, make known what you have seen and heard." Then said=
the
eldest, "We did not kill the merchant, the murderer is standing there =
in
the circle," and he pointed to the innkeeper. "In proof of this, =
go
into his cellar, where many others whom he has killed are still hanging.&qu=
ot;
Then the judge sent the executioner's men thither, and they found it was as=
the
apprentices said, and when they had informed the judge of this, he caused t=
he
innkeeper to be led up, and his head was cut off. Then said the Devil to the
three, "Now I have got the soul which I wanted to have, and you are fr=
ee, and
have money for the rest of your lives."
There
was once a King's son, who was no longer content to stay at home in his fat=
her's
house, and as he had no fear of anything, he thought, "I will go forth
into the wide world, there the time will not seem long to me, and I shall s=
ee
wonders enough." So he took leave of his parents, and went forth, and =
on
and on from morning till night, and whichever way his path led it was the s=
ame
to him. It came to pass that =
he got
to the house of a giant, and as he was so tired he sat down by the door and=
rested.
And as he let his eyes roam here and there, he saw the giant's playthings l=
ying
in the yard. These were a couple of enormous balls, and nine-pins as tall a=
s a
man. After a while he had a fancy to set the nine-pins up and then rolled t=
he
balls at them, and screamed and cried out when the nine-pins fell, and had a
merry time of it. The giant heard the noise, stretched his head out of the
window, and saw a man who was not taller than other men, and yet played with
his nine-pins. "Little worm," cried he, "why art thou playing
with my balls? Who gave thee strength to do it?" The King's son looked=
up,
saw the giant, and said, "Oh, thou blockhead, thou thinkest indeed that
thou only hast strong arms, I can do everything I want to do." The gia=
nt
came down and watched the bowling with great admiration, and said, "Ch=
ild
of man, if thou art one of that kind, go and bring me an apple of the tree =
of
life." "What dost thou want with it?" said the King's son.
"I do not want the apple for myself," answered the giant, "b=
ut I
have a betrothed bride who wishes for it. I have travelled far about the wo=
rld
and cannot find the tree." "I will soon find it," said the
King's son, "and I do not know what is to prevent me from getting the
apple down." The giant s=
aid,
"Thou really believest it to be so easy! The garden in which the tree
stands is surrounded by an iron railing, and in front of the railing lie wi=
ld
beasts, each close to the other, and they keep watch and let no man go
in." "They will be =
sure
to let me in," said the King's son. "Yes, but even if thou dost g=
et into
the garden, and seest the apple hanging to the tree, it is still not thine;=
a
ring hangs in front of it, through which any one who wants to reach the app=
le
and break it off, must put his hand, and no one has yet had the luck to do
it." "That luck will be mine," said the King's son.
Then
he took leave of the giant, and went forth over mountain and valley, and
through plains and forests, until at length he came to the wondrous garden.=
The
beasts lay round about it, but they had put their heads down and were aslee=
p.
Moreover, they did not awake when he went up to them, so he stepped over th=
em,
climbed the fence, and got safely into the garden. There, in the very middl=
e of
it, stood the tree of life, and the red apples were shining upon the branch=
es.
He climbed up the trunk to the top, and as he was about to reach out for an
apple, he saw a ring hanging before it; but he thrust his hand through that
without any difficulty, and gathered the apple. The ring closed tightly on =
his
arm, and all at once he felt a prodigious strength flowing through his vein=
s.
When he had come down again from the tree with the apple, he would not climb
over the fence, but grasped the great gate, and had no need to shake it more
than once before it sprang open with a loud crash. Then he went out, and th=
e lion
which had been lying down before, was awake and sprang after him, not in ra=
ge
and fierceness, but following him humbly as its master.
The
King's son took the giant the apple he had promised him, and said, "Se=
est
thou, I have brought it without difficulty." The giant was glad that h=
is
desire had been so soon satisfied, hastened to his bride, and gave her the
apple for which she had wished. She was a beautiful and wise maiden, and as=
she
did not see the ring on his arm, she said, "I shall never believe that
thou hast brought the apple, until I see the ring on thine arm." The g=
iant
said, "I have nothing to do but go home and fetch it," and though=
t it
would be easy to take away by force from the weak man, what he would not gi=
ve
of his own free will. He therefore demanded the ring from him, but the King=
's
son refused it. "Where the apple is, the ring must be also," said=
the
giant; "if thou wilt not give it of thine own accord, thou must fight =
with
me for it."
They
wrestled with each other for a long time, but the giant could not get the
better of the King's son, who was strengthened by the magical power of the
ring. Then the giant thought =
of a
stratagem, and said, "I have got warm with fighting, and so hast thou.=
We
will bathe in the river, and cool ourselves before we begin again." The
King's son, who knew nothing of falsehood, went with him to the water, and
pulled off with his clothes the ring also from his arm, and sprang into the=
river.
The giant instantly snatched the ring, and ran away with it, but the lion,
which had observed the theft, pursued the giant, tore the ring out of his h=
and,
and brought it back to its master. Then the giant placed himself behind an
oak-tree, and while the King's son was busy putting on his clothes again,
surprised him, and put both his eyes out.
And
now the unhappy King's son stood there, and was blind and knew not how to h=
elp
himself. Then the giant came back to him, took him by the hand as if he were
someone who wanted to guide him, and led him to the top of a high rock. There he left him standing, and th=
ought,
"Just two steps more, and he will fall down and kill himself, and I can
take the ring from him." But the faithful lion had not deserted its
master; it held him fast by the clothes, and drew him gradually back again.
When the giant came and wanted to rob the dead man, he saw that his cunning=
had
been in vain. "Is there no way, then, of destroying a weak child of man
like that?" said he angrily to himself, and seized the King's son and =
led
him back again to the precipice by another way, but the lion which saw his =
evil
design, helped its master out of danger here also. When they had got close =
to
the edge, the giant let the blind man's hand drop, and was going to leave h=
im
behind alone, but the lion pushed the giant so that he was thrown down and
fell, dashed to pieces, on the ground.
The
faithful animal again drew its master back from the precipice, and guided h=
im
to a tree by which flowed a clear brook. The King's son sat down there, but=
the
lion lay down, and sprinkled the water in his face with its paws. Scarcely =
had
a couple of drops wetted the sockets of his eyes, than he was once more abl=
e to
see something, and remarked a little bird flying quite close by, which woun=
ded
itself against the trunk of a tree. On this it went down to the water and
bathed itself therein, and then it soared upwards and swept between the tre=
es
without touching them, as if it had recovered its sight again. Then the Kin=
g's son
recognized a sign from God and stooped down to the water, and washed and ba=
thed
his face in it. And when he arose he had his eyes once more, brighter and
clearer than they had ever been.
The
King's son thanked God for his great mercy, and travelled with his lion onw=
ards
through the world. And it came to pass that he arrived before a castle which
was enchanted. In the gateway stood a maiden of beautiful form and fine fac=
e,
but she was quite black. She spoke to him and said, "Ah, if thou could=
st
but deliver me from the evil spell which is thrown over me." "What
shall I do?" said the Ki=
ng's son.
The maiden answered, "Thou must pass three nights in the great hall of
this enchanted castle, but thou must let no fear enter thy heart. When they=
are
doing their worst to torment thee, if thou bearest it without letting a sou=
nd
escape thee, I shall be free. Thy life they dare not take." Then said =
the
King's son, "I have no fear; with God's help I will try it." So he
went gaily into the castle, and when it grew dark he seated himself in the
large hall and waited. Everyt=
hing
was quiet, however, till midnight, when all at once a great tumult began, a=
nd
out of every hole and corner came little devils. They behaved as if they did
not see him, seated themselves in the middle of the room, lighted a fire, a=
nd
began to gamble. When one of them lost, he said, "It is not right; some
one is here who does not belong to us; it is his fault that I am losing.&qu=
ot;
"Wait, you fellow behind the stove, I am coming," said another. T=
he
screaming became still louder, so that no one could have heard it without
terror. The King's son stayed sitting quite quietly, and was not afraid; bu=
t at
last the devils jumped up from the ground, and fell on him, and there were =
so
many of them that he could not defend himself from them. They dragged him a=
bout
on the floor, pinched him, pricked him, beat him, and tormented him, but no
sound escaped from him. Towar=
ds
morning they disappeared, and he was so exhausted that he could scarcely mo=
ve
his limbs, but when day dawned the black maiden came to him. She bore in her hand a little bott=
le
wherein was the water of life wherewith she washed him, and he at once felt=
all
pain depart and new strength flow through his veins. She said, "Thou h=
ast
held out successfully for one night, but two more lie before thee." Th=
en
she went away again, and as she was going, he observed that her feet had be=
come
white. The next night the devils came and began their gambols anew. They fe=
ll
on the King's son, and beat him much more severely than the night before, u=
ntil
his body was covered with wounds. But as he bore all quietly, they were for=
ced
to leave him, and when dawn appeared, the maiden came and healed him with t=
he
water of life. And when she went away, he saw with joy that she had already=
become
white to the tips of her fingers. And now he had only one night more to go
through, but it was the worst. The hob-goblins came again: "Art thou t=
here
still?" cried they, "thou shalt be tormented till thy breath
stops." They pricked him and beat him, and threw him here and there, a=
nd
pulled him by the arms and legs as if they wanted to tear him to pieces, bu=
t he
bore everything, and never uttered a cry. At last the devils vanished, but =
he
lay fainting there, and did not stir, nor could he raise his eyes to look at
the maiden who came in, and sprinkled and bathed him with the water of life.
But suddenly he was freed from all pain, and felt fresh and healthy as if he
had awakened from sleep, and when he opened his eyes he saw the maiden stan=
ding
by him, snow-white, and fair as day. "Rise," said she, "and
swing thy sword three times over the stairs, and then all will be
delivered." And when he had done that, the whole castle was released f=
rom
enchantment, and the maiden was a rich King's daughter. The servants came a=
nd
said that the table was already set in the great hall, and dinner served up.
Then they sat down and ate and drank together, and in the evening the weddi=
ng
was solemnized with great rejoicings.
There
was once a young huntsman who went into the forest to lie in wait. He had a
fresh and joyous heart, and as he was going thither, whistling upon a leaf,=
an
ugly old crone came up, who spoke to him and said, "Good-day, dear
huntsman, truly you are merry and contented, but I am suffering from hunger=
and
thirst, do give me an alms." The huntsman had compassion on the poor o=
ld
creature, felt in his pocket, and gave her what he could afford. He was then
about to go further, but the old woman stopped him and said, "Listen, =
dear
huntsman, to what I tell you; I will make you a present in return for your
kindness. Go on your way now, but in a little while you will come to a tree,
whereon nine birds are sitting which have a cloak in their claws, and are
plucking at it; take your gun and shoot into the midst of them, they will l=
et
the cloak fall down to you, but one of the birds will be hurt, and will drop
down dead. Carry away the cloak, it is a wishing-cloak; when you throw it o=
ver
your shoulders, you only have to wish to be in a certain place, and you wil=
l be
there in the twinkling of an eye. Take out the heart of the dead bird and
swallow it whole, and every morning early, when you get up, you will find a
gold piece under your pillow." The huntsman thanked the wise woman, and
thought to himself, "Those are fine things that she has promised me, if
all does but come true." And verily when he had walked about a hundred
paces, he heard in the branches above him such a screaming and twittering t=
hat
he looked up and saw there a crowd of birds who were tearing a piece of clo=
th
about with their beaks and claws, and tugging and fighting as if each wante=
d to
have it all to himself. "Well," said the huntsman, "this is
wonderful, it has really come to pass just as the old wife foretold!" =
and
he took the gun from his shoulder, aimed and fired right into the midst of
them, so that the feathers flew about. The birds instantly took to flight w=
ith
loud outcries, but one dropped down dead, and the cloak fell at the same ti=
me.
Then the huntsman did as the old woman had directed him, cut open the bird,
sought the heart, swallowed it down, and took the cloak home with him.
Next
morning, when he awoke, the promise occurred to him, and he wished to see i=
f it
also had been fulfilled. When he lifted up the pillow, the gold piece shone=
in
his eyes, and next day he found another, and so it went on, every time he g=
ot
up. He gathered together a heap of gold, but at last he thought, "Of w=
hat
use is all my gold to me if I stay at home? I will go forth and see the
world."
He
then took leave of his parents, buckled on his huntsman's pouch and gun, and
went out into the world. It came to pass, that one day he travelled through=
a
dense forest, and when he came to the end of it, in the plain before him st=
ood
a fine castle. An old woman was standing with a wonderfully beautiful maide=
n,
looking out of one of the windows. The old woman, however, was a witch and =
said
to the maiden, "There comes one out of the forest, who has a wonderful
treasure in his body, we must filch it from him, my dear daughter, it is mo=
re
suitable for us than for him. He has a bird's heart about him, by means of
which a gold piece lies every morning under his pillow." She told her =
what
she was to do to get it, and what part she had to play, and finally threate=
ned her,
and said with angry eyes, "And if you do not attend to what I say, it =
will
be the worse for you." N=
ow
when the huntsman came nearer he descried the maiden, and said to himself,
"I have travelled about for such a long time, I will take a rest for o=
nce,
and enter that beautiful castle. I have certainly money enough." Never=
theless,
the real reason was that he had caught sight of the pretty girl.
He
entered the house, and was well received and courteously entertained. Before
long he was so much in love with the young witch that he no longer thought =
of
anything else, and only saw things as she saw them, and did what she desire=
d.
The old woman then said, "Now we must have the bird's heart, he will n=
ever
miss it." She prepared a drink, and when it was ready, poured it into a
cup and gave it to the maiden, who was to present it to the huntsman. She d=
id
so, saying, "Now, my dearest, drink to me." So he took the cup, a=
nd
when he had swallowed the draught, he brought up the heart of the bird. The
girl had to take it away secretly and swallow it herself, for the old woman
would have it so. Thenceforward he found no more gold under his pillow, but=
it
lay instead under that of the maiden, from whence the old woman fetched it =
away
every morning; but he was so much in love and so befooled, that he thought =
of nothing
else but of passing his time with the girl.
Then
the old witch said, "We have the bird's heart, but we must also take t=
he
wishing-cloak away from him." The girl answered, "We will leave h=
im
that, he has lost his wealth." The old woman was angry and said, "=
;Such
a mantle is a wonderful thing, and is seldom to be found in this world. I m=
ust
and will have it!" She g=
ave
the girl several blows, and said that if she did not obey, it should fare i=
ll
with her. So she did the old woman's bidding, placed herself at the window =
and
looked on the distant country, as if she were very sorrowful. The huntsman
asked, "Why dost thou stand there so sorrowfully?" "Ah, my
beloved," was her answer, "over yonder lies the Garnet Mountain,
where the precious stones grow. I long for them so much that when I think of
them, I feel quite sad, but who can get them? Only the birds; they fly and =
can
reach them, but a man never." "Hast thou nothing else to complain
of?" said the huntsman. "I will soon remove that burden from thy
heart." With that he drew her under his mantle, wished himself on the
Garnet Mountain, and in the twinkling of an eye they were sitting on it
together. Precious stones were glistening on every side so that it was a jo=
y to
see them, and together they gathered the finest and costliest of them. Now,=
the
old woman had, through her sorceries, contrived that the eyes of the huntsm=
an
should become heavy. He said to the maiden, "We will sit down and rest
awhile, I am so tired that I can no longer stand on my feet." Then they
sat down, and he laid his head in her lap, and fell asleep. When he was asl=
eep,
she unfastened the mantle from his shoulders, and wrapped herself in it, pi=
cked
up the garnets and stones, and wished herself back at home with them.
But
when the huntsman had had his sleep out and awoke, and perceived that his
sweetheart had betrayed him, and left him alone on the wild mountain, he sa=
id,
"Oh, what treachery there is in the world!" and sat down there in
care and sorrow, not knowing what to do. But the mountain belonged to some =
wild
and monstrous giants who dwelt thereon and lived their lives there, and he =
had
not sat long before he saw three of them coming towards him, so he lay down=
as
if he were sunk in a deep sleep. Then the giants came up, and the first kic=
ked
him with his foot and said, "What sort of an earth-worm is lying curle=
d up
here?" The second said, "Step upon him and kill him." But the
third said, "That would indeed be worth your while; just let him live,=
he
cannot remain here; and when he climbs higher, toward the summit of of the
mountain, the clouds will lay hold of him and bear him away." So saying
they passed by. But the huntsman had paid heed to their words, and as soon =
as
they were gone, he rose and climbed up to the summit of the mountain, and w=
hen
he had sat there a while, a cloud floated towards him, caught him up, carri=
ed him
away, and travelled about for a long time in the heavens. Then it sank lowe=
r,
and let itself down on a great cabbage-garden, girt round by walls, so that=
he
came softly to the ground on cabbages and vegetables.
Then
the huntsman looked about him and said, "If I had but something to eat=
! I
am so hungry, and my hunger will increase in course of time; but I see here
neither apples nor pears, nor any other sort of fruit, everywhere nothing b=
ut cabbages,"
but at length he thought, "At a pinch I can eat some of the leaves, th=
ey
do not taste particularly good, but they will refresh me." With that he
picked himself out a fine head of cabbage, and ate it, but scarcely had he
swallowed a couple of mouthfuls than he felt very strange and quite differe=
nt.
Four
legs grew on him, a large head and two thick ears, and he saw with horror t=
hat
he was changed into an ass. Still as his hunger increased every minute, and=
as
the juicy leaves were suitable to his present nature, he went on eating with
great zest. At last he arrived at a different kind of cabbage, but as soon =
as
he had swallowed it, he again felt a change, and reassumed his former human
shape.
Then
the huntsman lay down and slept off his fatigue. When he awoke next morning=
, he
broke off one head of the bad cabbages and another of the good ones, and
thought to himself, "This shall help me to get my own again and punish
treachery." Then he took the cabbages with him, climbed over the wall,=
and
went forth to seek for the castle of his sweetheart. After wandering about =
for
a couple of days he was lucky enough to find it again. He dyed his face bro=
wn,
so that his own mother would not have known him; and begged for shelter:
"I am so tired," said he, "that I can go no further." T=
he
witch asked, "Who are you, countryman, and what is your business?"
"I am a King's messenger, and was sent out to seek the most delicious
salad which grows beneath the sun. I have even been so fortunate as to find=
it,
and am carrying it about with me; but the heat of the sun is so intense that
the delicate cabbage threatens to wither, and I do not know if I can carry =
it
any further."
When
the old woman heard of the exquisite salad, she was greedy, and said,
"Dear countryman, let me just taste this wonderful salad." "=
Why not?"
answered he, "I have brought two heads with me, and will give you one =
of
them," and he opened his pouch and handed her the bad cabbage. The wit=
ch
suspected nothing amiss, and her mouth watered so for this new dish that she
herself went into the kitchen and dressed it. When it was prepared she could
not wait until it was set on the table, but took a couple of leaves at once,
and put them in her mouth, but hardly had she swallowed them than she was
deprived of her human shape, and she ran out into the courtyard in the form=
of
an ass. Presently the maid-servant entered the kitchen, saw the salad stand=
ing
there ready prepared, and was about to carry it up; but on the way, accordi=
ng
to habit, she was seized by the desire to taste, and she ate a couple of le=
aves.
Instantly the magic power showed itself, and she likewise became an ass and=
ran
out to the old woman, and the dish of salad fell to the ground. Meantime the
messenger sat beside the beautiful girl, and as no one came with the salad =
and
she also was longing for it, she said, "I don't know what has become of
the salad." The huntsman thought, "The salad must have already ta=
ken
effect," and said, "I will go to the kitchen and inquire about
it." As he went down he saw the two asses running about in the courtya=
rd;
the salad, however, was lying on the ground. "All right," said he,
"the two have taken their portion," and he picked up the other
leaves, laid them on the dish, and carried them to the maiden. "I bring
you the delicate food myself," said he, "in order that you may not
have to wait longer." Then she ate of it, and was, like the others,
immediately deprived of her human form, and ran out into the courtyard in t=
he
shape of an ass.
After
the huntsman had washed his face, so that the transformed ones could recogn=
ize
him, he went down into the courtyard, and said, "Now you shall receive=
the
wages of your treachery," and bound them together, all three with one
rope, and drove them along until he came to a mill. He knocked at the windo=
w,
the miller put out his head, and asked what he wanted. "I have three
unmanageable beasts," answered he, "which I don't want to keep any
longer. Will you take them in=
, and
give them food and stable room, and manage them as I tell you, and then I w=
ill
pay you what you ask." The miller said, "Why not? But how am I to
manage them?" The huntsman then said that he was to give three beatings
and one meal daily to the old donkey, and that was the witch; one beating a=
nd
three meals to the younger one, which was the servant-girl; and to the
youngest, which was the maiden, no beatings and three meals, for he could n=
ot bring
himself to have the maiden beaten. After that he went back into the castle,=
and
found therein everything he needed.
After
a couple of days, the miller came and said he must inform him that the old =
ass
which had received three beatings and only one meal daily was dead; "t=
he
two others," he continued, "are certainly not dead, and are fed t=
hree
times daily, but they are so sad that they cannot last much longer." T=
he
huntsman was moved to pity, put away his anger, and told the miller to drive
them back again to him. And w=
hen
they came, he gave them some of the good salad, so that they became human
again. The beautiful girl fell on her knees before him, and said, "Ah,=
my
beloved, forgive me for the evil I have done you; my mother drove me to it;=
it
was done against my will, for I love you dearly. Your wishing-cloak hangs i=
n a
cupboard, and as for the bird's-heart I will take a vomiting potion." =
But
he thought otherwise, and said, "Keep it; it is all the same, for I wi=
ll
take thee for my true wife." So the wedding was celebrated, and they l=
ived
happily together until their death.
A poor
servant-girl was once travelling with the family with which she was in serv=
ice,
through a great forest, and when they were in the midst of it, robbers came=
out
of the thicket, and murdered all they found. All perished together except t=
he
girl, who had jumped out of the carriage in a fright, and hidden herself be=
hind
a tree. When the robbers had gone away with their booty, she came out and
beheld the great disaster. Then she began to weep bitterly, and said,
"What can a poor girl like me do now? I do not know how to get out of =
the
forest, no human being lives in it, so I must certainly starve." She
walked about and looked for a road, but could find none. When it was evening
she seated herself under a tree, gave herself into God's keeping, and resol=
ved
to sit waiting there and not go away, let what might happen. When, however,=
she
had sat there for a while, a white dove came flying to her with a little go=
lden
key in its mouth. It put the little key in her hand, and said, "Dost t=
hou
see that great tree, therein is a little lock, it opens with the tiny key, =
and
there thou wilt find food enough, and suffer no more hunger." Then she
went to the tree and opened it, and found milk in a little dish, and white
bread to break into it, so that she could eat her fill. When she was satisf=
ied,
she said, "It is now the time when the hens at home go to roost, I am =
so
tired I could go to bed too." Then the dove flew to her again, and bro=
ught
another golden key in its bill, and said, "Open that tree there, and t=
hou
willt find a bed." So she opened it, and found a beautiful white bed, =
and
she prayed God to protect her during the night, and lay down and slept. In =
the
morning the dove came for the third time, and again brought a little key, a=
nd
said, "Open that tree there, and thou wilt find clothes." And when
she opened it, she found garments beset with gold and with jewels, more
splendid than those of any king's daughter. So she lived there for some tim=
e,
and the dove came every day and provided her with all she needed, and it wa=
s a
quiet good life.
Once,
however, the dove came and said, "Wilt thou do something for my sake?&=
quot; "With all my heart," sai=
d the
girl. Then said the little dove, "I will guide thee to a small house;
enter it, and inside it, an old woman will be sitting by the fire and will =
say,
'Good-day.' But on thy life give her no answer, let her do what she will, b=
ut
pass by her on the right side; further on, there is a door, which open, and
thou wilt enter into a room where a quantity of rings of all kinds are lyin=
g, amongst
which are some magnificent ones with shining stones; leave them, however, w=
here
they are, and seek out a plain one, which must likewise be amongst them, and
bring it here to me as quickly as thou canst." The girl went to the li=
ttle
house, and came to the door. There sat an old woman who stared when she saw
her, and said, "Good-day my child." The girl gave her no answer, =
and
opened the door. "Whither away," cried the old woman, and seized =
her
by the gown, and wanted to hold her fast, saying, "That is my house; no
one can go in there if I choose not to allow it." But the girl was sil=
ent,
got away from her, and went straight into the room. Now there lay on the ta=
ble
an enormous quantity of rings, which gleamed and glittered before her eyes.=
She
turned them over and looked for the plain one, but could not find it. While=
she
was seeking, she saw the old woman and how she was stealing away, and wanti=
ng
to get off with a bird-cage which she had in her hand. So she went after he=
r and
took the cage out of her hand, and when she raised it up and looked into it=
, a
bird was inside which had the plain ring in its bill. Then she took the rin=
g,
and ran quite joyously home with it, and thought the little white dove would
come and get the ring, but it did not.&nbs=
p;
Then she leant against a tree and determined to wait for the dove, a=
nd,
as she thus stood, it seemed just as if the tree was soft and pliant, and w=
as letting
its branches down. And suddenly the branches twined around her, and were two
arms, and when she looked round, the tree was a handsome man, who embraced =
and
kissed her heartily, and said, "Thou hast delivered me from the power =
of
the old woman, who is a wicked witch. She had changed me into a tree, and e=
very
day for two hours I was a white dove, and so long as she possessed the ring=
I
could not regain my human form." Then his servants and his horses, who=
had
likewise been changed into trees, were freed from the enchantment also, and
stood beside him. And he led them forth to his kingdom, for he was a King's
son, and they married, and lived happily.
There
was once a man who had three sons, and nothing else in the world but the ho=
use
in which he lived. Now each of the sons wished to have the house after his
father's death; but the father loved them all alike, and did not know what =
to
do; he did not wish to sell the house, because it had belonged to his
forefathers, else he might have divided the money amongst them. At last a p=
lan
came into his head, and he said to his sons, "Go into the world, and t=
ry
each of you to learn a trade, and, when you all come back, he who makes the
best masterpiece shall have the house."
The
sons were well content with this, and the eldest determined to be a blacksm=
ith,
the second a barber, and the third a fencing-master. They fixed a time when
they should all come home again, and then each went his way.
It
chanced that they all found skilful masters, who taught them their trades
well. The blacksmith had to s=
hoe
the King's horses, and he thought to himself, "The house is mine, with=
out
doubt." The barber only shaved great people, and he too already looked
upon the house as his own. The fencing-master got many a blow, but he only =
bit
his lip, and let nothing vex him; "for," said he to himself, &quo=
t;If
you are afraid of a blow, you'll never win the house."
When
the appointed time had gone by, the three brothers came back home to their
father; but they did not know how to find the best opportunity for showing
their skill, so they sat down and consulted together. As they were sitting
thus, all at once a hare came running across the field. "Ah, ha, just =
in
time!" said the barber. So he took his basin and soap, and lathered aw=
ay
until the hare came up; then he soaped and shaved off the hare's whiskers
whilst he was running at the top of his speed, and did not even cut his ski=
n or
injure a hair on his body.
"Well done!" said the old man. "Your brothers will ha=
ve
to exert themselves wonderfully, or the house will be yours."
Soon
after, up came a nobleman in his coach, dashing along at full speed. "=
Now
you shall see what I can do, father," said the blacksmith; so away he =
ran
after the coach, took all four shoes off the feet of one of the horses whil=
st
he was galloping, and put him on four new shoes without stopping him. "=
;You
are a fine fellow, and as clever as your brother," said his father;
"I do not know to which I ought to give the house."
Then
the third son said, "Father, let me have my turn, if you please;"=
and,
as it was beginning to rain, he drew his sword, and flourished it backwards=
and
forwards above his head so fast that not a drop fell upon him. It rained st=
ill
harder and harder, till at last it came down in torrents; but he only
flourished his sword faster and faster, and remained as dry as if he were
sitting in a house. When his =
father
saw this he was amazed, and said, "This is the master-piece, the house=
is
yours!"
His
brothers were satisfied with this, as was agreed beforehand; and, as they l=
oved
one another very much, they all three stayed together in the house, followed
their trades, and, as they had learnt them so well and were so clever, they
earned a great deal of money. Thus they lived together happily until they g=
rew
old; and at last, when one of them fell sick and died, the two others griev=
ed
so sorely about it that they also fell ill, and soon after died. And because
they had been so clever, and had loved one another so much, they were all l=
aid
in the same grave.
There
was a great war, and the King had many soldiers, but gave them small pay, so
small that they could not live upon it, so three of them agreed among
themselves to desert. One of them said to the others, "If we are caugh=
t we
shall be hanged on the gallows; how shall we manage it?" Another said,
"Look at that great cornfield, if we were to hide ourselves there, no =
one
could find us; the troops are not allowed to enter it, and to-morrow they a=
re
to march away." They crept into the corn, only the troops did not march
away, but remained lying all round about it. They stayed in the corn for two
days and two nights, and were so hungry that they all but died, but if they=
had
come out, their death would have been certain. Then said they, "What is
the use of our deserting if we have to perish miserably here?" But now=
a fiery
dragon came flying through the air, and it came down to them, and asked why
they had concealed themselves there? They answered, "We are three sold=
iers
who have deserted because the pay was so bad, and now we shall have to die =
of
hunger if we stay here, or to dangle on the gallows if we go out."
"If you will serve me for seven years," said the dragon, "I =
will
convey you through the army so that no one shall seize you." "We =
have
no choice and are compelled to accept," they replied. Then the dragon
caught hold of them with his claws, and carried them away through the air o=
ver
the army, and put them down again on the earth far from it; but the dragon =
was
no other than the Devil. He gave them a small whip and said, "Whip wit=
h it
and crack it, and then as much gold will spring up round about as you can w=
ish
for; then you can live like great lords, keep horses, and drive your carria=
ges,
but when the seven years have come to an end, you are my property." Th=
en
he put before them a book which they were all three forced to sign. "I
will, however, then set you a riddle," said he, "and if you can g=
uess
that, you shall be free, and released from my power." Then the dragon =
flew
away from them, and they went away with their whip, had gold in plenty, ord=
ered
themselves rich apparel, and travelled about the world. Wherever they were =
they
lived in pleasure and magnificence, rode on horseback, drove in carriages, =
ate
and drank, but did nothing wicked.
The time slipped quickly away, and when the seven years were coming =
to
an end, two of them were terribly anxious and alarmed; but the third took t=
he affair
easily, and said, "Brothers, fear nothing, my head is sharp enough, I
shall guess the riddle." They went out into the open country and sat d=
own,
and the two pulled sorrowful faces. Then an aged woman came up to them who
inquired why they were so sad? "Alas!" said they, "how can t=
hat
concern you? After all, you cannot help us." "Who knows?" sa=
id she.
"Confide your trouble to me." So they told her that they had been=
the
Devil's servants for nearly seven years, and that he had provided them with
gold as plentifully as if it had been blackberries, but that they had sold
themselves to him, and were forfeited to him, if at the end of the seven ye=
ars
they could not guess a riddle. The old woman said, "If you are to be
saved, one of you must go into the forest, there he will come to a fallen r=
ock
which looks like a little house, he must enter that, and then he will obtain
help." The two melancholy ones thought to themselves, "That will
still not save us," and stayed where they were, but the third, the mer=
ry
one, got up and walked on in the forest until he found the rock-house. In t=
he
little house, however, a very aged woman was sitting, who was the Devil's
grandmother, and asked the soldier where he came from, and what he wanted
there? He told her everything that had happened, and as he pleased her well,
she had pity on him, and said she would help him. She lifted up a great sto=
ne
which lay above a cellar, and said, "Conceal thyself there, thou canst=
hear
everything that is said here; only sit still, and do not stir. When the dra=
gon
comes, I will question him about the riddle, he tells everything to me, so
listen carefully to his answer." At twelve o'clock at night, the dragon
came flying thither, and asked for his dinner. The grandmother laid the tab=
le,
and served up food and drink, so that he was pleased, and they ate and drank
together. In the course of conversation, she asked him what kind of a day he
had had, and how many souls he had got? "Nothing went very well
to-day," he answered, "but I have laid hold of three soldiers, I =
have
them safe." "Indeed! three soldiers, that's something like, but t=
hey
may escape you yet." The Devil said mockingly, "They are mine! I =
will
set them a riddle, which they will never in this world be able to guess!&qu=
ot;
"What riddle is that?" she inquired. "I will tell you. In the
great North Sea lies a dead dog-fish, that shall be your roast meat, and the
rib of a whale shall be your silver spoon, and a hollow old horse's hoof sh=
all
be your wine-glass." When the Devil had gone to bed, the old grandmoth=
er
raised up the stone, and let out the soldier. "Hast thou paid particul=
ar
attention to everything?" "Yes," said he, "I know enoug=
h,
and will contrive to save myself." Then he had to go back another way,
through the window, secretly and with all speed to his companions. He told =
them
how the Devil had been overreached by the old grandmother, and how he had
learned the answer to the riddle from him. Then they were all joyous, and of
good cheer, and took the whip and whipped so much gold for themselves that =
it
ran all over the ground. When the seven years had fully gone by, the Devil =
came
with the book, showed the signatures, and said, "I will take you with =
me
to hell. There you shall have a meal! If you can guess what kind of roast m=
eat you
will have to eat, you shall be free and released from your bargain, and may
keep the whip as well." Then the first soldier began and said, "In
the great North Sea lies a dead dog-fish, that no doubt is the roast meat.&=
quot;
The Devil was angry, and began to mutter, "Hm! hm! hm!" And asked=
the
second, "But what will your spoon be?" "The rib of a whale, =
that
is to be our silver spoon." The Devil made a wry face, again growled, =
"Hm!
hm! hm!" and said to the third, "And do you also know what your w=
ine-glass
is to be?" "An old horse's hoof is to be our wineglass." The=
n the
Devil flew away with a loud cry, and had no more power over them, but the t=
hree
kept the whip, whipped as much money for themselves with it as they wanted,=
and
lived happily to their end.
Once
on a time lived a man and a woman who so long as they were rich had no
children, but when they were poor they had a little boy. They could, howeve=
r,
find no godfather for him, so the man said he would just go to another plac=
e to
see if he could get one there. As he went, a poor man met him, who asked him
where he was going. He said he was going to see if he could get a godfather,
that he was poor, so no one would stand as godfather for him. "Oh,&quo=
t;
said the poor man, "you are poor, and I am poor; I will be godfather f=
or
you, but I am so ill off I can give the child nothing. Go home and tell the
nurse that she is to come to the church with the child."
When
they all got to the church together, the beggar was already there, and he g=
ave
the child the name of Ferdinand the Faithful.
When
he was going out of the church, the beggar said, "Now go home, I can g=
ive
you nothing, and you likewise ought to give me nothing." But he gave a=
key
to the nurse, and told her when she got home she was to give it to the fath=
er,
who was to take care of it until the child was fourteen years old, and then=
he
was to go on the heath where there was a castle which the key would fit, and
that all which was therein should belong to him. Now when the child was sev=
en
years old and had grown very big, he once went to play with some other boys,
and each of them boasted that he had got more from his godfather than the
other; but the child could say nothing, and was vexed, and went home and sa=
id
to his father, "Did I get nothing at all, then, from my godfather?&quo=
t;
"Oh, yes," said the father, "thou hadst a key if there is a
castle standing on the heath, just go to it and open it." Then the boy
went thither, but no castle was to be seen, or heard of.
After
seven years more, when he was fourteen years old, he again went thither, and
there stood the castle. When he had opened it, there was nothing within but=
a
horse, a white one. Then the boy was so full of joy because he had a horse,
that he mounted on it and galloped back to his father. "Now I have a w=
hite
horse, and I will travel," said he. So he set out, and as he was on his
way, a pen was lying on the road. At first he thought he would pick it up, =
but
then again he thought to himself, "Thou shouldst leave it lying there;
thou wilt easily find a pen where thou art going, if thou hast need of
one." As he was thus riding away, a voice called after him,
"Ferdinand the Faithful, take it with thee." He looked around, but
saw no one, then he went back again and picked it up. When he had ridden a
little way farther, he passed by a lake, and a fish was lying on the bank,
gasping and panting for breath, so he said, "Wait, my dear fish, I will
help thee get into the water," and he took hold of it by the tail, and
threw it into the lake. Then =
the
fish put its head out of the water and said, "As thou hast helped me o=
ut
of the mud I will give thee a flute; when thou art in any need, play on it,=
and
then I will help thee, and if ever thou lettest anything fall in the water,=
just
play and I will reach it out to thee." Then he rode away, and there ca=
me
to him a man who asked him where he was going. "Oh, to the next place.=
"
Then what his name was? "Ferdinand the Faithful." "So! then =
we have
got almost the same name, I am called Ferdinand the Unfaithful." And t=
hey
both set out to the inn in the nearest place.
Now it
was unfortunate that Ferdinand the Unfaithful knew everything that the other
had ever thought and everything he was about to do; he knew it by means of =
all
kinds of wicked arts. There was, however, in the inn an honest girl, who ha=
d a
bright face and behaved very prettily. She fell in love with Ferdinand the
Faithful because he was a handsome man, and she asked him whither he was go=
ing.
"Oh, I am just travelling round about," said he. Then she said he
ought to stay there, for the King of that country wanted an attendant or an
outrider, and he ought to enter his service. He answered he could not very =
well
go to any one like that and offer himself. Then said the maiden, "Oh, =
but
I will soon do that for you." And so she went straight to the King, and
told him that she knew of an excellent servant for him. He was well pleased=
with
that, and had Ferdinand the Faithful brought to him, and wanted to make him=
his
servant. He, however, liked better to be an outrider, for where his horse w=
as,
there he also wanted to be, so the King made him an outrider. When Ferdinand
the Unfaithful learnt that, he said to the girl, "What! Dost thou help=
him
and not me?" "Oh," said the girl, "I will help thee
too." She thought, "I must keep friends with that man, for he is =
not
to be trusted." She went to the King, and offered him as a servant, and
the King was willing.
Now
when the King met his lords in the morning, he always lamented and said,
"Oh, if I had but my love with me." Ferdinand the Unfaithful was,=
however,
always hostile to Ferdinand the Faithful. So once, when the King was
complaining thus, he said, "You have the outrider, send him away to get
her, and if he does not do it, his head must be struck off." Then the =
King
sent for Ferdinand the Faithful, and told him that there was, in this place=
or
in that place, a girl he loved, and that he was to bring her to him, and if=
he
did not do it he should die.
Ferdinand
the Faithful went into the stable to his white horse, and complained and
lamented, "Oh, what an unhappy man I am!" Then someone behind him
cried, "Ferdinand the Faithful, why weepest thou?" He looked round
but saw no one, and went on lamenting; "Oh, my dear little white horse,
now must I leave thee; now must I die." Then some one cried once more,
"Ferdinand the Faithful, why weepest thou?" Then for the first ti=
me
he was aware that it was his little white horse who was putting that questi=
on.
"Dost thou speak, my little white horse; canst thou do that?" And
again, he said, "I am to go to this place and to that, and am to bring=
the
bride; canst thou tell me how I am to set about it?" Then answered the
little white horse, "Go thou to the King, and say if he will give thou
what thou must have, thou wilt get her for him. If he will give thee a ship
full of meat, and a ship full of bread, it will succeed. Great giants dwell=
on
the lake, and if thou takest no meat with thee for them, they will tear the=
e to
pieces, and there are the large birds which would pick the eyes out of thy =
head
if thou hadst no bread for them." Then the King made all the butchers =
in
the land kill, and all the bakers bake, that the ships might be filled. When
they were full, the little white horse said to Ferdinand the Faithful,
"Now mount me, and go with me into the ship, and then when the giants
come, say,
"Peace, peace, my dear little
giants, I have had thought of=
ye,
Something I have brought for ye;&qu=
ot;
and
when the birds come, thou shalt again say,
"Peace, peace, my dear little =
birds,
I have had thought of ye,
Something I have brought for ye;&qu=
ot;
then
they will do nothing to thee, and when thou comest to the castle, the giants
will help thee. Then go up to the castle, and take a couple of giants with
thee. There the princess lies
sleeping; thou must, however, not awaken her, but the giants must lift her =
up,
and carry her in her bed to the ship." And now everything took place as
the little white horse had said, and Ferdinand the Faithful gave the giants=
and
the birds what he had brought with him for them, and that made the giants
willing, and they carried the princess in her bed to the King. And when she
came to the King, she said she could not live, she must have her writings, =
they
had been left in her castle. Then by the instigation of Ferdinand the Unfai=
thful,
Ferdinand the Faithful was called, and the King told him he must fetch the
writings from the castle, or he should die. Then he went once more into the
stable, and bemoaned himself and said, "Oh, my dear little white horse,
now I am to go away again, how am I to do it?" Then the little white h=
orse
said he was just to load the ships full again. So it happened again as it h=
ad
happened before, and the giants and the birds were satisfied, and made gent=
le
by the meat. When they came to the castle, the white horse told Ferdinand t=
he
Faithful that he must go in, and that on the table in the princess's bed-ro=
om
lay the writings. And Ferdinand the Faithful went in, and fetched them. When
they were on the lake, he let his pen fall into the water; then said the wh=
ite
horse, "Now I cannot help thee at all." But he remembered his flu=
te,
and began to play on it, and the fish came with the pen in its mouth, and g=
ave
it to him. So he took the writings to the castle, where the wedding was
celebrated.
The
Queen, however, did not love the King because he had no nose, but she would
have much liked to love Ferdinand the Faithful. Once, therefore, when all t=
he
lords of the court were together, the Queen said she could do feats of magi=
c,
that she could cut off any one's head and put it on again, and that one of =
them
ought just to try it. But none of them would be the first, so Ferdinand the
Faithful, again at the instigation of Ferdinand the Unfaithful, undertook it
and she hewed off his head, and put it on again for him, and it healed toge=
ther
directly, so that it looked as if he had a red thread round his throat. Then
the King said to her, "My child, and where hast thou learnt that?"
"Yes," she said, "I understand the art; shall I just try it =
on
thee also?" "Oh, yes," said he. But she cut off his head, and
did not put it on again; but pretended that she could not get it on, and th=
at
it would not keep fixed. Then the King was buried, but she married Ferdinand
the Faithful.
He,
however, always rode on his white horse, and once when he was seated on it,=
it
told him that he was to go on to the heath which he knew, and gallop three
times round it. And when he had done that, the white horse stood up on its =
hind
legs, and was changed into a King's son.
In the
days when wishing was still of some use, a King's son was bewitched by an o=
ld
witch, and shut up in an iron stove in a forest. There he passed many years,
and no one could deliver him. Then a King's daughter came into the forest, =
who
had lost herself, and could not find her father's kingdom again. After she =
had
wandered about for nine days, she at length came to the iron stove. Then a voice came forth from it, a=
nd
asked her, "Whence comest thou, and whither goest, thou?" She
answered, "I have lost my father's kingdom, and cannot get home
again." Then a voice inside the iron stove said, "I will help the=
e to
get home again, and that indeed most swiftly, if thou wilt promise to do wh=
at I
desire of thee. I am the son of a far greater King than thy father, and I w=
ill
marry thee."
Then
was she afraid, and thought, "Good heavens! What can I do with an iron
stove?" But as she much wished to get home to her father, she promised=
to
do as he desired. But he said, "Thou shalt return here, and bring a kn=
ife
with thee, and scrape a hole in the iron." Then he gave her a companion
who walked near her, but did not speak, but in two hours he took her home;
there was great joy in the castle when the King's daughter came home, and t=
he
old King fell on her neck and kissed her. She, however, was sorely troubled,
and said, "Dear father, what I have suffered! I should never have got =
home
again from the great wild forest, if I had not come to an iron stove, but I
have been forced to give my word that I will go back to it, set it free, and
marry it." Then the old King was so terrified that he all but fainted,=
for
he had but this one daughter. They therefore resolved they would send, in h=
er
place, the miller's daughter, who was very beautiful. They took her there, gave her a kn=
ife,
and said she was to scrape at the iron stove. So she scraped at it for
four-and-twenty hours, but could not bring off the least morsel of it. When=
day
dawned, a voice in the stove said, "It seems to me it is day
outside." Then she answered, "It seems so to me too; I fancy I he=
ar
the noise of my father's mill."
"So
thou art a miller's daughter! Then go thy way at once, and let the King's
daughter come here." Then she went away at once, and told the old King
that the man outside there, would have none of her he wanted the King's
daughter. They, however, stil=
l had
a swine-herd's daughter, who was even prettier than the miller's daughter, =
and
they determined to give her a piece of gold to go to the iron stove instead=
of
the King's daughter. So she was taken thither, and she also had to scrape f=
or
four-and-twenty hours. She, however, made nothing of it. When day broke, a
voice inside the stove cried, "It seems to me it is day outside!"
Then answered she, "So it seems to me also; I fancy I hear my father's
horn blowing."
"Then
thou art a swine-herd's daughter! Go away at once, and tell the King's daug=
hter
to come, and tell her all must be done as promised, and if she does not com=
e,
everything in the kingdom shall be ruined and destroyed, and not one stone =
be
left standing on another." When the King's daughter heard that she beg=
an
to weep, but now there was nothing for it but to keep her promise. So she t=
ook
leave of her father, put a knife in her pocket, and went forth to the iron
stove in the forest. When she got there, she began to scrape, and the iron =
gave
way, and when two hours were over, she had already scraped a small hole.
"Little green waiting-maid, Waiting-maid with the limping leg, =
Little dog of the limping leg, Hop hither and thither,
And quickly see who is without:&quo=
t;
and a
small toad came walking by and opened the door to her. When she entered, th=
ey
all bade her welcome, and she was forced to sit down. They asked, "Whe=
re
hast thou come from, and whither art thou going?" Then she related all
that had befallen her, and how because she had transgressed the order which=
had
been given her not to say more than three words, the stove, and the King's =
son
also, had disappeared, and now she was about to seek him over hill and dale
until she found him. Then the old fat one said,
"Little green waiting-maid, Waiting-maid with the limping leg, =
Little dog of the limping leg, Hop hither and thither,
And bring me the great box."
Then
the little one went and brought the box. After this they gave her meat and
drink, and took her to a well-made bed, which felt like silk and velvet, and
she laid herself therein, in God's name, and slept. When morning came she
arose, and the old toad gave her three needles out of the great box which s=
he
was to take with her; they would be needed by her, for she had to cross a h=
igh
glass mountain, and go over three piercing swords and a great lake. If she =
did
all this she would get her lover back again. Then she gave her three things,
which she was to take the greatest care of, namely, three large needles, a
plough-wheel, and three nuts. With these she travelled onwards, and when she
came to the glass mountain which was so slippery, she stuck the three needl=
es
first behind her feet and then before them, and so got over it, and when sh=
e was
over it, she hid them in a place which she marked carefully. After this she
came to the three piercing swords, and then she seated herself on her
plough-wheel, and rolled over them. At last she arrived in front of a great
lake, and when she had crossed it, she came to a large and beautiful castle.
She went and asked for a place; she was a poor girl, she said, and would li=
ke
to be hired. She knew, however, that the King's son whom she had released f=
rom
the iron stove in the great forest was in the castle. Then she was taken as=
a
scullery-maid at low wages. But, already the King's son had another maiden =
by
his side whom he wanted to marry, for he thought that she had long been dea=
d.
In the
evening, when she had washed up and was done, she felt in her pocket and fo=
und
the three nuts which the old toad had given her. She cracked one with her
teeth, and was going to eat the kernel when lo and behold there was a state=
ly
royal garment in it! But when the bride heard of this she came and asked for
the dress, and wanted to buy it, and said, "It is not a dress for a
servant-girl." But she said no, she would not sell it, but if the bride
would grant her one thing she should have it, and that was, leave to sleep =
one
night in her bridegroom's chamber. The bride gave her permission because the
dress was so pretty, and she had never had one like it. When it was evening=
she
said to her bridegroom, "That silly girl will sleep in thy room."
"If thou art willing so am I," said he. She, however, gave him a
glass of wine in which she had poured a sleeping-draught. So the bridegroom and the scullery=
-maid
went to sleep in the room, and he slept so soundly that she could not waken
him.
She
wept the whole night and cried, "I set thee free when thou wert in an =
iron
stove in the wild forest, I sought thee, and walked over a glass mountain, =
and
three sharp swords, and a great lake before I found thee, and yet thou wilt=
not
hear me!"
The
servants sat by the chamber-door, and heard how she thus wept the whole nig=
ht
through, and in the morning they told it to their lord. And the next evening
when she had washed up, she opened the second nut, and a far more beautiful
dress was within it, and when the bride beheld it, she wished to buy that
also. But the girl would not =
take
money, and begged that she might once again sleep in the bridegroom's chamb=
er.
The bride, however, gave him a sleeping-drink, and he slept so soundly that=
he
could hear nothing. But the scullery-maid wept the whole night long, and cr=
ied,
"I set thee free when thou wert in an iron stove in the wild forest, I
sought thee, and walked over a glass mountain, and over three sharp swords =
and
a great lake before I found thee, and yet thou wilt not hear me!" The
servants sat by the chamber-door and heard her weeping the whole night thro=
ugh,
and in the morning informed their lord of it. And on the third evening, when
she had washed up, she opened the third nut, and within it was a still more
beautiful dress which was stiff with pure gold. When the bride saw that she
wanted to have it, but the maiden only gave it up on condition that she mig=
ht
for the third time sleep in the bridegroom's apartment. The King's son was,
however, on his guard, and threw the sleeping-draught away. Now, therefore,
when she began to weep and to cry, "Dearest love, I set thee free when
thou wert in the iron stove in the terrible wild forest," the King's s=
on
leapt up and said, "Thou art the true one, thou art mine, and I am
thine." Thereupon, while it was still night, he got into a carriage wi=
th
her, and they took away the false bride's clothes so that she could not get=
up.
When they came to the great lake, they sailed across it, and when they reac=
hed
the three sharp-cutting swords they seated themselves on the plough-wheel, =
and
when they got to the glass mountain they thrust the three needles in it, an=
d so
at length they got to the little old house; but when they went inside that,=
it
was a great castle, and the toads were all disenchanted, and were King's
children, and full of happiness. Then the wedding was celebrated, and the
King's son and the princess remained in the castle, which was much larger t=
han
the castles of their fathers. As, however, the old King grieved at being le=
ft
alone, they fetched him away, and brought him to live with them, and they h=
ad
two kingdoms, and lived in happy wedlock.
A mouse did run, This story is done.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>128 The Lazy Spinner<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
In a
certain village there once lived a man and his wife, and the wife was so id=
le
that she would never work at anything; whatever her husband gave her to spi=
n,
she did not get done, and what she did spin she did not wind, but let it all
remain entangled in a heap. If the man scolded her, she was always ready wi=
th
her tongue, and said, "Well, how should I wind it, when I have no reel?
Just you go into the forest and get me one." "If that is all,&quo=
t;
said the man, "then I will go into the forest, and get some wood for m=
aking
reels." Then the woman was afraid that if he had the wood he would make
her a reel of it, and she would have to wind her yarn off, and then begin to
spin again. She bethought herself a little, and then a lucky idea occurred =
to
her, and she secretly followed the man into the forest, and when he had cli=
mbed
into a tree to choose and cut the wood, she crept into the thicket below wh=
ere
he could not see her, and cried,
"He who cuts wood for reels sh=
all
die, And he who winds, shall
perish."
The
man listened, laid down his axe for a moment, and began to consider what th=
at
could mean. "Hollo," he said at last, "what can that have be=
en; my
ears must have been singing, I won't alarm myself for nothing." So he
again seized the axe, and began to hew, then again there came a cry from be=
low:
"He who cuts wood for reels sh=
all
die, And he who winds, shall
perish."
He
stopped, and felt afraid and alarmed, and pondered over the circumstance. But when a few moments had passed,=
he
took heart again, and a third time he stretched out his hand for the axe, a=
nd
began to cut. But some one called out a third time, and said loudly,
"He who cuts wood for reels sh=
all
die, And he who winds, shall
perish."
That
was enough for him, and all inclination had departed from him, so he hastily
descended the tree, and set out on his way home. The woman ran as fast as s=
he
could by by-ways so as to get home first. So when he entered the parlour, s=
he
put on an innocent look as if nothing had happened, and said, "Well, h=
ave
you brought a nice piece of wood for reels?" "No," said he,
"I see very well that winding won't do," and told her what had ha=
ppened
to him in the forest, and from that time forth left her in peace about it.
Neverthless after some time, the man again began to complain of the disorde=
r in
the house. "Wife," said he, "it is really a shame that the s=
pun
yarn should lie there all entangled!" "I'll tell you what," =
said
she, "as we still don't come by any reel, go you up into the loft, and=
I
will stand down below, and will throw the yarn up to you, and you will thro=
w it
down to me, and so we shall get a skein after all." "Yes, that wi=
ll
do," said the man. So they did that, and when it was done, he said,
"The yarn is in skeins, now it must be boiled." The woman was aga=
in
distressed; She certainly said, "Yes, we will boil it next morning ear=
ly."
but she was secretly contriving another trick.
Early
in the morning she got up, lighted a fire, and put the kettle on, only inst=
ead
of the yarn, she put in a lump of tow, and let it boil. After that she went=
to
the man who was still lying in bed, and said to him, "I must just go o=
ut,
you must get up and look after the yarn which is in the kettle on the fire,=
but
you must be at hand at once; mind that, for if the cock should happen to cr=
ow,
and you are not attending to the yarn, it will become tow." The man was
willing and took good care not to loiter. He got up as quickly as he could,=
and
went into the kitchen. But when he reached the kettle and peeped in, he saw=
, to
his horror, nothing but a lump of tow. Then the poor man was as still as a
mouse, thinking he had neglected it, and was to blame, and in future said no
more about yarn and spinning. But you yourself must own she was an odious
woman!
There
was once a poor man who had four sons, and when they were grown up, he said=
to
them, "My dear children, you must now go out into the world, for I have
nothing to give you, so set out, and go to some distance and learn a trade,=
and
see how you can make your way." So the four brothers took their sticks,
bade their father farewell, and went through the town-gate together. When t=
hey
had travelled about for some time, they came to a cross-way which branched =
off
in four different directions. Then said the eldest, "Here we must
separate, but on this day four years, we will meet each other again at this
spot, and in the meantime we will seek our fortunes."
Then
each of them went his way, and the eldest met a man who asked him where he =
was
going, and what he was intending to do? "I want to learn a trade,"=
; he
replied. Then the other said, "Come with me, and be a thief."
"No," he answered, "that is no longer regarded as a reputabl=
e trade,
and the end of it is that one has to swing on the gallows."
"Oh," said the man, "you need not be afraid of the gallows; I
will only teach you to get such things as no other man could ever lay hold =
of,
and no one will ever detect you." So he allowed himself to be talked i=
nto
it, and while with the man became an accomplished thief, and so dexterous t=
hat
nothing was safe from him, if he once desired to have it. The second brother
met a man who put the same question to him what he wanted to learn in the
world. "I don't know yet," he replied. "Then come with me, a=
nd
be an astronomer; there is nothing better than that, for nothing is hid from
you." He liked the idea, and became such a skillful astronomer that wh=
en
he had learnt everything, and was about to travel onwards, his master gave =
him
a telescope and said to him, "With that you canst thou see whatsoever
takes place either on earth or in heaven, and nothing can remain concealed =
from
thee." A huntsman took the third brother into training, and gave him s=
uch
excellent instruction in everything which related to huntsmanship, that he
became an experienced hunter. When
he went away, his master gave him a gun and said, "It will never fail =
you;
whatsoever you aim at, you are certain to hit." The youngest brother a=
lso met
a man who spoke to him, and inquired what his intentions were. "Would =
you
not like to be a tailor?" said he. "Not that I know of," said
the youth; "sitting doubled up from morning till night, driving the ne=
edle
and the goose backwards and forwards, is not to my taste." "Oh, b=
ut
you are speaking in ignorance," answered the man; "with me you wo=
uld
learn a very different kind of tailoring, which is respectable and proper, =
and
for the most part very honorable." So he let himself be persuaded, and
went with the man, and learnt his art from the very beginning. When they
parted, the man gave the youth a needle, and said, "With this you can =
sew
together whatever is given you, whether it is as soft as an egg or as hard =
as
steel; and it will all become one piece of stuff, so that no seam will be
visible."
When
the appointed four years were over, the four brothers arrived at the same t=
ime
at the cross-roads, embraced and kissed each other, and returned home to th=
eir
father. "So now," said he, quite delighted, "the wind has bl=
own
you back again to me." They told him of all that had happened to them,=
and
that each had learnt his own trade. Now they were sitting just in front of =
the
house under a large tree, and the father said, "I will put you all to =
the
test, and see what you can do." Then he looked up and said to his seco=
nd
son, "Between two branches up at the top of this tree, there is a
chaffinch's nest, tell me how many eggs there are in it?" The astronom=
er
took his glass, looked up, and said, "There are five." Then the
father said to the eldest, "Fetch the eggs down without disturbing the
bird which is sitting hatching them." The skillful thief climbed up, a=
nd
took the five eggs from beneath the bird, which never observed what he was
doing, and remained quietly sitting where she was, and brought them down to=
his
father. The father took them, and put one of them on each corner of the tab=
le,
and the fifth in the middle, and said to the huntsman, "With one shot =
thou
shalt shoot me the five eggs in two, through the middle." The huntsman
aimed, and shot the eggs, all five as the father had desired, and that at o=
ne
shot. He certainly must have had some of the powder for shooting round corn=
ers.
"Now it's your turn," said the father to the fourth son; "you
shall sew the eggs together again, and the young birds that are inside them=
as
well, and you must do it so that they are not hurt by the shot." The tailor brought his needle, and=
sewed
them as his father wished. When he had done this the thief had to climb up =
the
tree again, and carry them to the nest, and put them back again under the b=
ird
without her being aware of it. The bird sat her full time, and after a few =
days
the young ones crept out, and they had a red line round their necks where t=
hey
had been sewn together by the tailor.
"Well,"
said the old man to his sons, "I begin to think you are worth more than
breen clover; you have used your time well, and learnt something good. I ca=
n't
say which of you deserves the most praise. That will be proved if you have =
but
an early opportunity of using your talents." Not long after this, there
was a great uproar in the country, for the King's daughter was carried off =
by a
dragon. The King was full of trouble about it, both by day and night, and
caused it to be proclaimed that whosoever brought her back should have her =
to
wife. The four brothers said to each other, "This would be a fine
opportunity for us to show what we can do!" and resolved to go forth
together and liberate the King's daughter. "I will soon know where she
is," said the astronomer, and looked through his telescope and said,
"I see her already, she is far away from here on a rock in the sea, and
the dragon is beside her watching her." Then he went to the King, and
asked for a ship for himself and his brothers, and sailed with them over the
sea until they came to the rock. There the King's daughter was sitting, and=
the
dragon was lying asleep on her lap. The huntsman said, "I dare not fir=
e, I
should kill the beautiful maiden at the same time." "Then I will =
try
my art," said the thief, and he crept thither and stole her away from
under the dragon, so quietly and dexterously, that the monster never remark=
ed
it, but went on snoring. Full=
of
joy, they hurried off with her on board ship, and steered out into the open
sea; but the dragon, who when he awoke had found no princess there, followed
them, and came snorting angrily through the air. Just as he was circling ab=
ove
the ship, and about to descend on it, the huntsman shouldered his gun, and =
shot
him to the heart. The monster fell down dead, but was so large and powerful
that his fall shattered the whole ship. Fortunately, however, they laid hol=
d of
a couple of planks, and swam about the wide sea. Then again they were in gr=
eat
peril, but the tailor, who was not idle, took his wondrous needle, and with=
a
few stitches sewed the planks together, and they seated themselves upon the=
m, and
collected together all the fragments of the vessel. Then he sewed these so
skilfully together, that in a very short time the ship was once more seawor=
thy,
and they could go home again in safety.
When
the King once more saw his daughter, there were great rejoicings. He said to
the four brothers, "One of you shall have her to wife, but which of yo=
u it
is to be you must settle among yourselves." Then a warm contest arose
among them, for each of them preferred his own claim. The astronomer said,
"If I had not seen the princess, all your arts would have been useless=
, so
she is mine." The thief said, "What would have been the use of yo=
ur
seeing, if I had not got her away from the dragon? so she is mine." The
huntsman said, "You and the princess, and all of you, would have been =
torn
to pieces by the dragon if my ball had not hit him, so she is mine." T=
he
tailor said, "And if I, by my art, had not sewn the ship together agai=
n,
you would all of you have been miserably drowned, so she is mine." Then
the King uttered this saying, "Each of you has an equal right, and as =
all
of you cannot have the maiden, none of you shall have her, but I will give =
to
each of you, as a reward, half a kingdom." The brothers were pleased w=
ith
this decision, and said, "It is better thus than that we should be at
variance with each other." Then each of them received half a kingdom, =
and
they lived with their father in the greatest happiness as long as it pleased
God.
THERE
was once a woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was called
One-eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of her forehead, and the
second, Two-eyes, because she had two eyes like other folks, and the younge=
st,
Three-eyes, because she had three eyes; and her third eye was also in the
centre of her forehead. However, as Two-eyes saw just as other human beings
did, her sisters and her mother could not endure her. They said to her,
"Thou, with thy two eyes, art no better than the common people; thou d=
ost
not belong to us!" They pushed her about, and threw old clothes to her,
and gave her nothing to eat but what they left, and did everything that they
could to make her unhappy. It came to pass that Two-eyes had to go out into=
the
fields and tend the goat, but she was still quite hungry, because her siste=
rs
had given her so little to eat. So she sat down on a ridge and began to wee=
p,
and so bitterly that two streams ran down from her eyes. And once when she
looked up in her grief, a woman was standing beside her, who said, "Why
art thou weeping, little Two-eyes?" Two-Eyes answered, "Have I not
reason to weep, when I have two eyes like other people, and my sisters and
mother hate me for it, and push me from one corner to another, throw old
clothes at me, and give me nothing to eat but the scraps they leave? To-day
they have given me so little that I am still quite hungry." Then the w=
ise
woman said, "Wipe away thy tears, Two-eyes, and I will tell thee somet=
hing
to stop thee ever suffering from hunger again; just say to thy goat,
"Bleat, my little goat, bleat,=
Cover the table with something to
eat,"
and
then a clean well-spread little table will stand before thee, with the most
delicious food upon it of which thou mayst eat as much as thou art inclined
for, and when thou hast had enough, and hast no more need of the little tab=
le,
just say,
"Bleat, bleat, my little goat,=
I
pray, And take the table quite
away,"
and
then it will vanish again from thy sight." Hereupon the wise woman dep=
arted. But Two-eyes thought, "I must
instantly make a trial, and see if what she said is true, for I am far too
hungry," and she said,
"Bleat, my little goat, bleat,=
Cover the table with something to
eat,"
and
scarcely had she spoken the words than a little table, covered with a white
cloth, was standing there, and on it was a plate with a knife and fork, and=
a
silver spoon; and the most delicious food was there also, warm and smoking =
as
if it had just come out of the kitchen. Then Two-eyes said the shortest pra=
yer
she knew, "Lord God, be with us always, Amen," and helped herself=
to
some food, and enjoyed it. And when she was satisfied, she said, as the wise
woman had taught her,
"Bleat, bleat, my little goat,=
I
pray, And take the table quite
away,"
and
immediately the little table and everything on it was gone again. "Tha=
t is
a delightful way of keeping house!" thought Two-eyes, and was quite gl=
ad
and happy.
In the
evening, when she went home with her goat, she found a small earthenware di=
sh
with some food, which her sisters had set ready for her, but she did not to=
uch
it. Next day she again went out with her goat, and left the few bits of bro=
ken
bread which had been handed to her, lying untouched. The first and second t=
ime
that she did this, her sisters did not remark it at all, but as it happened
every time, they did observe it, and said, "There is something wrong a=
bout
Two-eyes, she always leaves her food untasted, and she used to eat up
everything that was given her; she must have discovered other ways of getti=
ng
food." In order that they might learn the truth, they resolved to send
One-eye with Two-eyes when she went to drive her goat to the pasture, to
observe what Two-eyes did when she was there, and whether any one brought h=
er
anything to eat and drink. So when Two-eyes set out the next time, One-eye =
went
to her and said, "I will go with you to the pasture, and see that the =
goat
is well taken care of, and driven where there is food." But Two-eyes k=
new
what was in One-eye's mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said,
"Come, One-eye, we will sit down, and I will sing something to you.&qu=
ot;
One-eye sat down and was tired with the unaccustomed walk and the heat of t=
he
sun, and Two-eyes sang constantly,
"One eye, wakest thou? One eye, sleepest thou?"
until
One-eye shut her one eye, and fell asleep, and as soon as Two-eyes saw that
One-eye was fast asleep, and could discover nothing, she said,
"Bleat, my little goat, bleat,=
Cover the table with something to
eat,"
and
seated herself at her table, and ate and drank until she was satisfied, and
then she again cried,
"Bleat, bleat, my little goat,=
I
pray, And take the table quite
away,"
and in
an instant all was gone. Two-eyes now awakened One-eye, and said, "One=
-eye,
you want to take care of the goat, and go to sleep while you are doing it, =
and
in the meantime the goat might run all over the world. Come, let us go home
again." So they went home, and again Two-eyes let her little dish stand
untouched, and One-eye could not tell her mother why she would not eat it, =
and
to excuse herself said, "I fell asleep when I was out."
Next
day the mother said to Three-eyes, "This time thou shalt go and observ=
e if
Two-eyes eats anything when she is out, and if any one fetches her food and
drink, for she must eat and drink in secret." So Three-eyes went to
Two-eyes, and said, "I will go with you and see if the goat is taken
proper care of, and driven where there is food." But Two-eyes knew what
was in Three-eyes' mind, and drove the goat into high grass and said, "=
;We
will sit down, and I will sing something to you, Three-eyes." Three-ey=
es
sat down and was tired with the walk and with the heat of the sun, and Two-=
eyes
began the same song as before, and sang,
"Three eyes, are you waking?&q=
uot;
but
then, instead of singing,
"Three eyes, are you sleeping?=
"
as she
ought to have done, she thoughtlessly sang,
"Two eyes, are you sleeping?&q=
uot;
and
sang all the time,
"Three eyes, are you waking? <=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Two eyes, are you sleeping?"
Then
two of the eyes which Three-eyes had, shut and fell asleep, but the third, =
as
it had not been named in the song, did not sleep. It is true that Three-eyes
shut it, but only in her cunning, to pretend it was asleep too, but it blin=
ked,
and could see everything very well. And when Two-eyes thought that Three-ey=
es
was fast asleep, she used her little charm,
"Bleat, my little goat, bleat,=
Cover the table with something to
eat,"
and
ate and drank as much as her heart desired, and then ordered the table to go
away again,
"Bleat, bleat, my little goat,=
I
pray, And take the table quite
away,"
and
Three-eyes had seen everything. Then Two-eyes came to her, waked her and sa=
id,
"Have you been asleep, Three-eyes? You are a good care-taker! Come, we
will go home." And when they got home, Two-eyes again did not eat, and
Three-eyes said to the mother, "Now, I know why that high-minded thing
there does not eat. When she is out, she says to the goat,
"Bleat, my little goat, bleat,=
Cover the table with something to
eat,"
and
then a little table appears before her covered with the best of food, much
better than any we have here, and when she has eaten all she wants, she say=
s,
"Bleat, bleat, my little goat,=
I
pray, And take the table quite
away,"
and
all disappears. I watched everything closely. She put two of my eyes to sle=
ep
by using a certain form of words, but luckily the one in my forehead kept
awake." Then the envious mother cried, "Dost thou want to fare be=
tter
than we do? The desire shall pass away," and she fetched a butcher's
knife, and thrust it into the heart of the goat, which fell down dead.
When
Two-eyes saw that, she went out full of trouble, seated herself on the ridg=
e of
grass at the edge of the field, and wept bitter tears. Suddenly the wise wo=
man
once more stood by her side, and said, "Two-eyes, why art thou
weeping?" "Have I not reason to weep?" she answered. "T=
he
goat which covered the table for me every day when I spoke your charm, has =
been
killed by my mother, and now I shall again have to bear hunger and want.&qu=
ot;
The wise woman said, "Two-eyes, I will give thee a piece of good advic=
e;
ask thy sisters to give thee the entrails of the slaughtered goat, and bury
them in the ground in front of the house, and thy fortune will be made.&quo=
t;
Then she vanished, and Two-eyes went home and said to her sisters, "De=
ar
sisters, do give me some part of my goat; I don't wish for what is good, but
give me the entrails." Then they laughed and said, "If that's all=
you
want, you can have it." So Two-eyes took the entrails and buried them
quietly in the evening, in front of the house-door, as the wise woman had
counselled her to do.
Next
morning, when they all awoke, and went to the house-door, there stood a
strangely magnificent tree with leaves of silver, and fruit of gold hanging
among them, so that in all the wide world there was nothing more beautiful =
or
precious. They did not know h=
ow the
tree could have come there during the night, but Two-eyes saw that it had g=
rown
up out of the entrails of the goat, for it was standing on the exact spot w=
here
she had buried them. Then the mother said to One-eye, "Climb up, my ch=
ild,
and gather some of the fruit of the tree for us." One-eye climbed up, but when she w=
as
about to get hold of one of the golden apples, the branch escaped from her
hands, and that happened each time, so that she could not pluck a single ap=
ple,
let her do what she might. Then said the mother, "Three-eyes, do you c=
limb
up; you with your three eyes can look about you better than One-eye."
One-eye slipped down, and Three-eyes climbed up. Three-eyes was not more
skilful, and might search as she liked, but the golden apples always escaped
her. At length the mother grew impatient, and climbed up herself, but could=
get
hold of the fruit no better than One-eye and Three-eyes, for she always clu=
tched
empty air. Then said Two-eyes, "I will just go up, perhaps I may succe=
ed
better." The sisters cried, "You indeed, with your two eyes, what=
can
you do?" But Two-eyes climbed up, and the golden apples did get out of=
her
way, but came into her hand of their own accord, so that she could pluck th=
em
one after the other, and brought a whole apronful down with her. The mother
took them away from her, and instead of treating poor Two-eyes any better f=
or
this, she and One-eye and Three-eyes were only envious, because Two-eyes al=
one had
been able to get the fruit, and they treated her still more cruelly.
It so
befell that once when they were all standing together by the tree, a young
knight came up. "Quick, Two-eyes," cried the two sisters, "c=
reep
under this, and don't disgrace us!" and with all speed they turned an =
empty
barrel which was standing close by the tree over poor Two-eyes, and they pu=
shed
the golden apples which she had been gathering, under it too. When the knig=
ht
came nearer he was a handsome lord, who stopped and admired the magnificent
gold and silver tree, and said to the two sisters, "To whom does this =
fine
tree belong? Any one who would bestow one branch of it on me might in return
for it ask whatsoever he desired." Then One-eye and Three-eyes replied
that the tree belonged to them, and that they would give him a branch. They
both took great trouble, but they were not able to do it, for the branches =
and
fruit both moved away from them every time. Then said the knight, "It =
is
very strange that the tree should belong to you, and that you should still =
not
be able to break a piece off."
They again asserted that the tree was their property. Whilst they we=
re
saying so, Two-eyes rolled out a couple of golden apples from under the bar=
rel
to the feet of the knight, for she was vexed with One-eye and Three-eyes, f=
or
not speaking the truth. When the knight saw the apples he was astonished, a=
nd
asked where they came from. One-eye and Three-eyes answered that they had
another sister, who was not allowed to show herself, for she had only two e=
yes
like any common person. The knight, however, desired to see her, and cried,=
"Two-eyes,
come forth." Then Two-eyes, quite comforted, came from beneath the bar=
rel,
and the knight was surprised at her great beauty, and said, "Thou,
Two-eyes, canst certainly break off a branch from the tree for me."
"Yes," replied Two-eyes, "that I certainly shall be able to =
do, for
the tree belongs to me." And she climbed up, and with the greatest ease
broke off a branch with beautiful silver leaves and golden fruit, and gave =
it
to the knight. Then said the knight, "Two-eyes, what shall I give thee=
for
it?" "Alas!" answered Two-eyes, "I suffer from hunger a=
nd thirst,
grief and want, from early morning till late night; if you would take me wi=
th
you, and deliver me from these things, I should be happy." So the knig=
ht
lifted Two-eyes on to his horse, and took her home with him to his father's
castle, and there he gave her beautiful clothes, and meat and drink to her
heart's content, and as he loved her so much he married her, and the wedding
was solemnized with great rejoicing. When Two-eyes was thus carried away by=
the
handsome knight, her two sisters grudged her good fortune in downright earn=
est.
"The wonderful tree, however, still remains with us," thought the=
y,
"and even if we can gather no fruit from it, still every one will stand
still and look at it, and come to us and admire it. Who knows what good thi=
ngs
may be in store for us?" But next morning, the tree had vanished, and =
all
their hopes were at an end. And when Two-eyes looked out of the window of h=
er
own little room, to her great delight it was standing in front of it, and s=
o it
had followed her.
Two-eyes
lived a long time in happiness. Once two poor women came to her in her cast=
le,
and begged for alms. She looked in their faces, and recognized her sisters,
One-eye, and Three-eyes, who had fallen into such poverty that they had to
wander about and beg their bread from door to door. Two-eyes, however, made
them welcome, and was kind to them, and took care of them, so that they both
with all their hearts repented the evil that they had done their sister in
their youth.
"Good-day,
Father Hollenthe." "Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie." "May=
I
be allowed to have your daughter?" "Oh, yes, if Mother Malcho
(Milch-cow), Brother High-and-Mighty, Sister Käsetraut, and fair
Katrinelje are willing, you can have her."
"Where
is Mother Malcho, then?" "She is in the cow-house, milking the
cow."
"Good-day,
Mother Malcho." "Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie." "May I =
be allowed
to have your daughter?" "Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Brother Hi=
gh-and-Mighty,
Sister Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her.&q=
uot;
"Where is Brother High-and-Mighty, then?" "He is in the room
chopping some wood." "Good-day, Brother High-and-Mighty."
"Many thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie." "May I be allowed to have yo=
ur
sister?" "Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Sister
Käsetraut, and fair Katrinelje are willing, you can have her."
"Where is Sister Käsetraut, then?" "She is in the garden
cutting cabbages." "Good-day, sister Käsetraut." "=
Many
thanks, Pif-paf-poltrie." "May I be allowed to have your sister?&=
quot;
"Oh, yes, if Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Brother High-and- Mighty,
and fair Katrinelje are willing, you may have her." "Where is fai=
r Katrinelje,
then?" "She is in the room counting out her farthings."
"Good day, fair Katrinelje." "Many thanks,
Pif-paf-poltrie." "Wilt thou be my bride?" "Oh, yes, if
Father Hollenthe, Mother Malcho, Brother High-and-Mighty, and Sister
Käsetraut are willing, I am ready."
"Fair
Katrinelje, how much dowry do hast thou?" "Fourteen farthings in
ready money, three and a half groschen owing to me, half a pound of dried
apples, a handful of fried bread, and a handful of spices.
And many other things are mine,
"Pif-paf-poltrie,
what is thy trade? Art thou a tailor?" "Something better."
"A shoemaker?" "Something better." "A
husbandman?" "Something better." "A joiner?"
"Something better." "A smith?" "Something
better." "A miller?" "Something better." "Per=
haps
a broom-maker?" "Yes, that's what I am, is it not a fine trade?&q=
uot;
A
peasant had a faithful horse which had grown old and could do no more work,=
so
his master would no longer give him anything to eat and said, "I can
certainly make no more use of thee, but still I mean well by thee; if thou
provest thyself still strong enough to bring me a lion here, I will maintain
thee, but now take thyself away out of my stable," and with that he ch=
ased
him into the open country. The horse was sad, and went to the forest to see=
k a
little protection there from the weather. Then the fox met him and said,
"Why dost thou hang thy head so, and go about all alone?" "A=
las,"
replied the horse, "avarice and fidelity do not dwell together in one
house. My master has forgotten what services I have performed for him for so
many years, and because I can no longer plough well, he will give me no more
food, and has driven me out." "Without giving thee a chance?"
asked the fox. "The chance was a bad one. He said, if I were still str=
ong
enough to bring him a lion, he would keep me, but he well knows that I cann=
ot
do that." The fox said, "I will help thee, just lay thyself down,=
stretch
thyself out, as if thou wert dead, and do not stir." The horse did as =
the
fox desired, and the fox went to the lion, who had his den not far off, and
said, "A dead horse is lying outside there, just come with me, thou ca=
nst
have a rich meal." The lion went with him, and when they were both
standing by the horse the fox said, "After all, it is not very comfort=
able
for thee here I tell thee what I will fasten it to thee by the tail, and th=
en
thou canst drag it into thy cave, and devour it in peace."
This
advice pleased the lion: he lay down, and in order that the fox might tie t=
he
horse fast to him, he kept quite quiet. But the fox tied the lion's legs
together with the horse's tail, and twisted and fastened all so well and so
strongly that no strength could break it. When he had finished his work, he
tapped the horse on the shoulder and said, "Pull, white horse, pull.&q=
uot;
Then up sprang the horse at once, and drew the lion away with him. The lion
began to roar so that all the birds in the forest flew out in terror, but t=
he
horse let him roar, and drew him and dragged him over the country to his
master's door. When the master saw the lion, he was of a better mind, and s=
aid
to the horse, "Thou shalt stay with me and fare well," and he gave
him plenty to eat until he died.
THERE
was once upon a time a King who had twelve daughters, each one more beautif=
ul
than the other. They all slept together in one chamber, in which their beds
stood side by side, and every night when they were in them the King locked =
the
door, and bolted it. But in the morning when he unlocked the door, he saw t=
hat
their shoes were worn out with dancing, and no one could find out how that =
had
come to pass. Then the King caused it to be proclaimed that whosoever could
discover where they danced at night, should choose one of them for his wife=
and
be King after his death, but that whosoever came forward and had not discov=
ered
it within three days and nights, should have forfeited his life. It was not=
long
before a King's son presented himself, and offered to undertake the enterpr=
ise.
He was well received, and in the evening was led into a room adjoining the
princesses' sleeping-chamber. His bed was placed there, and he was to obser=
ve
where they went and danced, and in order that they might do nothing secretl=
y or
go away to some other place, the door of their room was left open.
But
the eyelids of the prince grew heavy as lead, and he fell asleep, and when =
he
awoke in the morning, all twelve had been to the dance, for their shoes were
standing there with holes in the soles. On the second and third nights it f=
ell
out just the same, and then his head was struck off without mercy. Many oth=
ers
came after this and undertook the enterprise, but all forfeited their lives.
Now it came to pass that a poor soldier, who had a wound, and could serve no
longer, found himself on the road to the town where the King lived. There he
met an old woman, who asked him where he was going. "I hardly know
myself," answered he, and added in jest, "I had half a mind to
discover where the princesses danced their shoes into holes, and thus become
King." "That is not so difficult," said the old woman, "=
;you
must not drink the wine which will be brought to you at night, and must pre=
tend
to be sound asleep." With that she gave him a little cloak, and said,
"If you put on that, you will be invisible, and then you can steal aft=
er
the twelve." When the soldier had received this good advice, he went i=
nto
the thing in earnest, took heart, went to the King, and announced himself a=
s a
suitor. He was as well received as the others, and royal garments were put =
upon
him. He was conducted that evening at bed-time into the ante-chamber, and a=
s he
was about to go to bed, the eldest came and brought him a cup of wine, but =
he
had tied a sponge under his chin, and let the wine run down into it, without
drinking a drop. Then he lay down and when he had lain a while, he began to
snore, as if in the deepest sleep. The twelve princesses heard that, and
laughed, and the eldest said, "He, too, might as well have saved his
life." With that they got up, opened wardrobes, presses, cupboards, and
brought out pretty dresses; dressed themselves before the mirrors, sprang
about, and rejoiced at the prospect of the dance. Only the youngest said, &=
quot;I
know not how it is; you are very happy, but I feel very strange; some
misfortune is certainly about to befall us." "Thou art a goose, w=
ho
art always frightened," said the eldest. "Hast thou forgotten how=
many
Kings' sons have already come here in vain? I had hardly any need to give t=
he
soldier a sleeping-draught, in any case the clown would not have
awakened." When they were all ready they looked carefully at the soldi=
er,
but he had closed his eyes and did not move or stir, so they felt themselves
quite secure. The eldest then went to her bed and tapped it; it immediately
sank into the earth, and one after the other they descended through the
opening, the eldest going first. The soldier, who had watched everything,
tarried no longer, put on his little cloak, and went down last with the
youngest. Half-way down the steps, he just trod a little on her dress; she =
was
terrified at that, and cried out, "What is that? who is pulling my
dress?" "Don't be so silly!" said the eldest, "you have
caught it on a nail." Then they went all the way down, and when they w=
ere
at the bottom, they were standing in a wonderfully pretty avenue of trees, =
all
the leaves of which were of silver, and shone and glistened. The soldier
thought, "I must carry a token away with me," and broke off a twig
from one of them, on which the tree cracked with a loud report. The youngest
cried out again. "Something is wrong, did you hear the crack?" But
the eldest said, "It is a gun fired for joy, because we have got rid of
our prince so quickly." After that they came into an avenue where all =
the
leaves were of gold, and lastly into a third where they were of bright
diamonds; he broke off a twig from each, which made such a crack each time =
that
the youngest started back in terror, but the eldest still maintained that t=
hey
were salutes. They went on and came to a great lake whereon stood twelve li=
ttle
boats, and in every boat sat a handsome prince, all of whom were waiting fo=
r the
twelve, and each took one of them with him, but the soldier seated himself =
by
the youngest. Then her prince said, "I can't tell why the boat is so m=
uch
heavier to-day; I shall have to row with all my strength, if I am to get it
across." "What should cause that," said the youngest, "=
but
the warm weather? I feel very warm too." On the opposite side of the l=
ake
stood a splendid, brightly-lit castle, from whence resounded the joyous mus=
ic
of trumpets and kettle-drums. They rowed over there, entered, and each prin=
ce
danced with the girl he loved, but the soldier danced with them unseen, and
when one of them had a cup of wine in her hand he drank it up, so that the =
cup
was empty when she carried it to her mouth; the youngest was alarmed at thi=
s,
but the eldest always made her be silent. They danced there till three o'cl=
ock
in the morning when all the shoes were danced into holes, and they were for=
ced
to leave off; the princes rowed them back again over the lake, and this time
the soldier seated himself by the eldest. On the shore they took leave of t=
heir
princes, and promised to return the following night. When they reached the
stairs the soldier ran on in front and lay down in his bed, and when the tw=
elve
had come up slowly and wearily, he was already snoring so loudly that they
could all hear him, and they said, "So far as he is concerned, we are
safe." They took off their beautiful dresses, laid them away, put the
worn-out shoes under the bed, and lay down. Next morning the soldier was
resolved not to speak, but to watch the wonderful goings on, and again went
with them. Then everything was done just as it had been done the first time,
and each time they danced until their shoes were worn to pieces. But the th=
ird
time he took a cup away with him as a token. When the hour had arrived for =
him
to give his answer, he took the three twigs and the cup, and went to the Ki=
ng,
but the twelve stood behind the door, and listened for what he was going to
say. When the King put the question, "Where have my twelve daughters
danced their shoes to pieces in the night?" he answered, "In an u=
nderground
castle with twelve princes," and related how it had come to pass, and
brought out the tokens. The King then summoned his daughters, and asked the=
m if
the soldier had told the truth, and when they saw that they were betrayed, =
and
that falsehood would be of no avail, they were obliged to confess all.
Thereupon the King asked which of them he would have to wife? He answered,
"I am no longer young, so give me the eldest." Then the wedding w=
as
celebrated on the self-same day, and the kingdom was promised him after the
King's death. But the princes were bewitched for as many days as they had
danced nights with the twelve.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>134 The Six Servants<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
IN
former times there lived an aged Queen who was a sorceress, and her daughter
was the most beautiful maiden under the sun. The old woman, however, had no
other thought than how to lure mankind to destruction, and when a wooer
appeared, she said that whosoever wished to have her daughter, must first
perform a task, or die. Many had been dazzled by the daughter's beauty, and=
had
actually risked this, but they never could accomplish what the old woman
enjoined them to do, and then no mercy was shown; they had to kneel down, a=
nd
their heads were struck off. A certain King's son who had also heard of the
maiden's beauty, said to his father, "Let me go there, I want to demand
her in marriage." "Never," answered the King; "if you w=
ere
to go, it would be going to your death." On this the son lay down and =
was
sick unto death, and for seven years he lay there, and no physician could h=
eal
him. When the father perceived that all hope was over, with a heavy heart he
said to him, "Go thither, and try your luck, for I know no other means=
of
curing you." When the son heard that, he rose from his bed and was well
again, and joyfully set out on his way.
And it
came to pass that as he was riding across a heath, he saw from afar somethi=
ng
like a great heap of hay lying on the ground, and when he drew nearer, he c=
ould
see that it was the stomach of a man, who had laid himself down there, but =
the
stomach looked like a small mountain. When the fat man saw the traveller, he
stood up and said, "If you are in need of any one, take me into your
service." The prince answered, "What can I do with such a great b=
ig
man?" "Oh," said the Stout One, "this is nothing, when I
stretch myself out well, I am three thousand times fatter." "If
that's the case," said the prince, "I can make use of thee, come =
with
me." So the Stout One followed the prince, and after a while they found
another man who was lying on the ground with his ear laid to the turf.
"What art thou doing there?" asked the King's son. "I am
listening," replied the man. "What art thou listening to so atten=
tively?"
"I am listening to what is just going on in the world, for nothing esc=
apes
my ears; I even hear the grass growing." "Tell me," said the
prince, "what thou hearest at the court of the old Queen who has the
beautiful daughter." Then he answered, "I hear the whizzing of the
sword that is striking off a wooer's head." The King's son said, "=
;I
can make use of thee, come with me." They went onwards, and then saw a
pair of feet lying and part of a pair of legs, but could not see the rest of
the body. When they had walked on for a great distance, they came to the bo=
dy,
and at last to the head also. "Why," said the prince, "what a
tall rascal thou art!" "Oh," replied the Tall One, "tha=
t is
nothing at all yet; when I really stretch out my limbs, I am three thousand
times as tall, and taller than the highest mountain on earth. I will gladly
enter your service, if you will take me." "Come with me," sa=
id
the prince, "I can make use of thee." They went onwards and found=
a
man sitting by the road who had bound up his eyes. The prince said to him,
"Hast thou weak eyes, that thou canst not look at the light?"
"No," replied the man, "but I must not remove the bandage, f=
or
whatsoever I look at with my eyes, splits to pieces, my glance is so powerf=
ul.
If you can use that, I shall be glad to serve you." "Come with
me," replied the King's son, "I can make use of thee." They
journeyed onwards and found a man who was lying in the hot sunshine, trembl=
ing
and shivering all over his body, so that not a limb was still. "How ca=
nst
thou shiver when the sun is shining so warm?" said the King's son.
"Alack," replied the man, "I am of quite a different nature.=
The
hotter it is, the colder I am, and the frost pierces through all my bones; =
and
the colder it is, the hotter I am. In the midst of ice, I cannot endure the
heat, nor in the midst of fire, the cold." "Thou art a strange
fellow," said the prince, "but if thou wilt enter my service, fol=
low
me." They travelled onwards, and saw a man standing who made a long ne=
ck
and looked about him, and could see over all the mountains. "What art =
thou
looking at so eagerly?" said the King's son. The man replied, "I =
have
such sharp eyes that I can see into every forest and field, and hill and
valley, all over the world." The prince said, "Come with me if th=
ou
wilt, for I am still in want of such an one."
And
now the King's son and his six servants came to the town where the aged Que=
en
dwelt. He did not tell her who he was, but said, "If you will give me =
your
beautiful daughter, I will perform any task you set me." The sorceress=
was
delighted to get such a handsome youth as this into her net, and said, &quo=
t;I
will set thee three tasks, and if thou art able to perform them all, thou s=
halt
be husband and master of my daughter." "What is the first to
be?" "Thou shalt fetch me my ring which I have dropped into the R=
ed
Sea." So the King's son went home to his servants and said, "The =
first
task is not easy. A ring is to be got out of the Red Sea. Come, find some w=
ay
of doing it." Then the man with the sharp sight said, "I will see
where it is lying," and looked down into the water and said, "It =
is
sticking there, on a pointed stone." The Tall One carried them thither=
, and
said, "I would soon get it out, if I could only see it." "Oh=
, is
that all!" cried the Stout One, and lay down and put his mouth to the
water, on which all the waves fell into it just as if it had been a whirlpo=
ol, and
he drank up the whole sea till it was as dry as a meadow. The Tall One stoo=
ped
down a little, and brought out the ring with his hand. Then the King's son
rejoiced when he had the ring, and took it to the old Queen. She was
astonished, and said, "Yes, it is the right ring. Thou hast safely
performed the first task, but now comes the second. Dost thou see the meado=
w in
front of my palace? Three hundred fat oxen are feeding there, and these must
thou eat, skin, hair, bones, horns and all, and down below in my cellar lie
three hundred casks of wine, and these thou must drink up as well, and if o=
ne
hair of the oxen, or one little drop of the wine is left, thy life will be
forfeited to me." "May I invite no guests to this repast?"
inquired the prince, "no dinner is good without some company." The
old woman laughed maliciously, and replied, "Thou mayst invite one for=
the
sake of companionship, but no more."
The
King's son went to his servants and said to the Stout One, "Thou shalt=
be
my guest to-day, and shalt eat thy fill." Hereupon the Stout One stret=
ched
himself out and ate the three hundred oxen without leaving one single hair,=
and
then he asked if he was to have nothing but his breakfast. He drank the win=
e straight
from the casks without feeling any need of a glass, and he licked the last =
drop
from his finger-nails. When the meal was over, the prince went to the old
woman, and told her that the second task also was performed. She wondered at
this and said, "No one has ever done so much before, but one task still
remains," and she thought to herself, "Thou shalt not escape me, =
and
wilt not keep thy head on thy shoulders! This night," said she, "I
will bring my daughter to thee in thy chamber, and thou shalt put thine arms
round her, but when you are sitting there together, beware of falling aslee=
p.
When twelve o'clock is striking, I will come, and if she is then no longer =
in
thine arms, thou art lost." The prince thought, "The task is easy=
, I
will most certainly keep my eyes open." Nevertheless he called his
servants, told them what the old woman had said, and remarked, "Who kn=
ows
what treachery lurks behind this? Foresight is a good thing keep watch, and
take care that the maiden does not go out of my room again." When night
fell, the old woman came with her daughter, and gave her into the princes's
arms, and then the Tall One wound himself round the two in a circle, and th=
e Stout
One placed himself by the door, so that no living creature could enter. The=
re
the two sat, and the maiden spake never a word, but the moon shone through =
the
window on her face, and the prince could behold her wondrous beauty. He did
nothing but gaze at her, and was filled with love and happiness, and his ey=
es
never felt weary. This lasted until eleven o'clock, when the old woman cast
such a spell over all of them that they fell asleep, and at the self-same
moment the maiden was carried away.
Then
they all slept soundly until a quarter to twelve, when the magic lost its
power, and all awoke again. "Oh, misery and misfortune!" cried the
prince, "now I am lost!" The faithful servants also began to lame=
nt, but
the Listener said, "Be quiet, I want to listen." Then he listened=
for
an instant and said, "She is on a rock, three hundred leagues from hen=
ce, bewailing
her fate. Thou alone, Tall One, canst help her; if thou wilt stand up, thou
wilt be there in a couple of steps."
"Yes,"
answered the Tall One, "but the one with the sharp eyes must go with m=
e,
that we may destroy the rock." Then the Tall One took the one with
bandaged eyes on his back, and in the twinkling of an eye they were on the
enchanted rock. The Tall One immediately took the bandage from the other's
eyes, and he did but look round, and the rock shivered into a thousand piec=
es.
Then the Tall One took the maiden in his arms, carried her back in a second,
then fetched his companion with the same rapidity, and before it struck twe=
lve
they were all sitting as they had sat before, quite merrily and happily. Wh=
en
twelve struck, the aged sorceress came stealing in with a malicious face, w=
hich
seemed to say, "Now he is mine!" for she believed that her daught=
er
was on the rock three hundred leagues off. But when she saw her in the prin=
ce's
arms, she was alarmed, and said, "Here is one who knows more than I
do!" She dared not make any opposition, and was forced to give him her
daughter. But she whispered in her ear, "It is a disgrace to thee to h=
ave
to obey common people, and that thou art not allowed to choose a husband to
thine own liking."
On
this the proud heart of the maiden was filled with anger, and she meditated
revenge. Next morning she caused three hundred great bundles of wood to be =
got
together, and said to the prince that though the three tasks were performed,
she would still not be his wife until some one was ready to seat himself in=
the
midst of the wood, and bear the fire. She thought that none of his servants
would let themselves be burnt for him, and that out of love for her, he him=
self
would place himself upon it, and then she would be free. But the servants s=
aid,
"Every one of us has done something except the Frosty One, he must set=
to
work," and they put him in the middle of the pile, and set fire to it.
Then the fire began to burn, and burnt for three days until all the wood was
consumed, and when the flames had burnt out, the Frosty One was standing am=
id
the ashes, trembling like an aspen leaf, and saying, "I never felt suc=
h a frost
during the whole course of my life; if it had lasted much longer, I should =
have
been benumbed!"
As no
other pretext was to be found, the beautiful maiden was now forced to take =
the
unknown youth as a husband. But when they drove away to church, the old wom=
an
said, "I cannot endure the disgrace," and sent her warriors after
them with orders to cut down all who opposed them, and bring back her daugh=
ter.
But the Listener had sharpened his ears, and heard the secret discourse of =
the
old woman. "What shall we do?" said he to the Stout One. But he k=
new
what to do, and spat out once or twice behind the carriage some of the
sea-water which he had drunk, and a great sea arose in which the warriors w=
ere
caught and drowned. When the sorceress perceived that, she sent her mailed
knights; but the Listener heard the rattling of their armour, and undid the
bandage from one eye of Sharp-eyes, who looked for a while rather fixedly at
the enemy's troops, on which they all sprang to pieces like glass. Then the
youth and the maiden went on their way undisturbed, and when the two had be=
en blessed
in church, the six servants took leave, and said to their master, "Your
wishes are now satisfied, you need us no longer, we will go our way and seek
our fortunes."
Half a
league from the palace of the prince's father was a village near which a
swineherd tended his herd, and when they came thither the prince said to his
wife, "Do you know who I really am? I am no prince, but a herder of sw=
ine,
and the man who is there with that herd, is my father. We two shall have to=
set
to work also, and help him." Then he alighted with her at the inn, and
secretly told the innkeepers to take away her royal apparel during the nigh=
t.
So when she awoke in the morning, she had nothing to put on, and the
innkeeper's wife gave her an old gown and a pair of worsted stockings, and =
at
the same time seemed to consider it a great present, and said, "If it =
were
not for the sake of your husband I should have given you nothing at all!&qu=
ot;
Then the princess believed that he really was a swineherd, and tended the h=
erd
with him, and thought to herself, "I have deserved this for my haughti=
ness
and pride." This lasted for a week, and then she could endure it no
longer, for she had sores on her feet. And now came a couple of people who
asked if she knew who her husband was. "Yes," she answered, "=
;he
is a swineherd, and has just gone out with cords and ropes to try to drive a
little bargain." But they said, "Just come with us, and we will t=
ake
you to him," and they took her up to the palace, and when she entered =
the
hall, there stood her husband in kingly raiment. But she did not recognize =
him
until he took her in his arms, kissed her, and said, "I suffered much =
for
thee and now thou, too, hast had to suffer for me." And then the weddi=
ng
was celebrated, and he who has told you all this, wishes that he, too, had =
been
present at it.
A
WOMAN was going about the unenclosed land with her daughter and her
step-daughter cutting fodder, when the Lord came walking towards them in the
form of a poor man, and asked, "Which is the way into the village?&quo=
t;
"If you want to know," said the mother, "seek it for
yourself," and the daughter added, "If you are afraid you will not
find it, take a guide with you." But the step-daughter said, "Poor
man, I will take you there, come with me." Then God was angry with the
mother and daughter, and turned his back on them, and wished that they shou=
ld
become as black as night and as ugly as sin. To the poor step-daughter,
however, God was gracious, and went with her, and when they were near the
village, he said a blessing over her, and spake, "Choose three things =
for
thyself, and I will grant them to thee." Then said the maiden, "I
should like to be as beautiful and fair as the sun," and instantly she=
was
white and fair as day. "Then I should like to have a purse of money wh=
ich
would never grow empty." That the Lord gave her also, but he said,
"Do not forget what is best of all." Said she, "For my third
wish, I desire, after my death, to inhabit the eternal kingdom of Heaven.&q=
uot;
That also was granted unto her, and then the Lord left her. When the
step-mother came home with her daughter, and they saw that they were both as
black as coal and ugly, but that the step-daughter was white and beautiful,=
wickedness
increased still more in their hearts, and they thought of nothing else but =
how
they could do her an injury. The step-daughter, however, had a brother call=
ed
Reginer, whom she loved much, and she told him all that had happened. Once =
on a
time Reginer said to her, "Dear sister, I will take thy likeness, that=
I
may continually see thee before mine eyes, for my love for thee is so great
that I should like always to look at thee." Then she answered, "B=
ut,
I pray thee, let no one see the picture." So he painted his sister and
hung up the picture in his room; he, however, dwelt in the King's palace, f=
or
he was his coachman. Every day he went and stood before the picture, and
thanked God for the happiness of having such a dear sister. Now it happened
that the King whom he served, had just lost his wife, who had been so beaut=
iful
that no one could be found to compare with her, and on this account the King
was in deep grief. The attendants about the court, however, remarked that t=
he
coachman stood daily before this beautiful picture, and they were jealous of
him, so they informed the King. Then the latter ordered the picture to be
brought to him, and when he saw that it was like his lost wife in every
respect, except that it was still more beautiful, he fell mortally in love =
with
it. He caused the coachman to be brought before him, and asked whom the
portrait represented? The coachman said it was his sister, so the King reso=
lved
to take no one but her as his wife, and gave him a carriage and horses and
splendid garments of cloth of gold, and sent him forth to fetch his chosen
bride. When Reginer came on this errand, his sister was glad, but the black
maiden was jealous of her good fortune, and grew angry above all measure, a=
nd
said to her mother, "Of what use are all your arts to us now when you
cannot procure such a piece of luck for me?" "Be quiet," said
the old woman, "I will soon divert it to you," and by her arts of
witchcraft, she so troubled the eyes of the coachman that he was half-blind,
and she stopped the ears of the white maiden so that she was half-deaf. Then
they got into the carriage, first the bride in her noble royal apparel, then
the step-mother with her daughter, and Reginer sat on the box to drive. When
they had been on the way for some time the coachman cried,
"Cover
thee well, my sister dear, That the rain may not wet thee, That the wind may
not load thee with dust, That thou may'st be fair and beautiful When thou
appearest before the King."
The
bride asked, "What is my dear brother saying?" "Ah," sa=
id
the old woman, "he says that you ought to take off your golden dress a=
nd
give it to your sister." Then she took it off, and put it on the black
maiden, who gave her in exchange for it a shabby grey gown. They drove onwa=
rds,
and a short time afterwards, the brother again cried,
"Cover
thee well, my sister dear, That the rain may not wet thee, That the wind may
not load thee with dust, That thou may'st be fair and beautiful When thou
appearest before the King."
The
bride asked, "What is my dear brother saying?" "Ah," sa=
id
the old woman, "he says that you ought to take off your golden hood and
give it to your sister." So she took off the hood and put it on her
sister, and sat with her own head uncovered. And they drove on farther. Aft=
er a
while, the brother once more cried,
"Cover
thee well, my sister dear, That the rain may not wet thee, That the wind may
not load thee with dust, That thou may'st be fair and beautiful When thou
appearest before the King."
The
bride asked, "What is my dear brother saying?" "Ah," sa=
id
the old woman, "he says you must look out of the carriage." They
were, however, just on a bridge, which crossed deep water. When the bride s=
tood
up and leant forward out of the carriage, they both pushed her out, and she=
fell
into the middle of the water. At the same moment that she sank, a snow-white
duck arose out of the mirror-smooth water, and swam down the river. The bro=
ther
had observed nothing of it, and drove the carriage on until they reached the
court. Then he took the black maiden to the King as his sister, and thought=
she
really was so, because his eyes were dim, and he saw the golden garments
glittering. When the King saw the boundless ugliness of his intended bride,=
he
was very angry, and ordered the coachman to be thrown into a pit which was =
full
of adders and nests of snakes. The old witch, however, knew so well how to
flatter the King and deceive his eyes by her arts, that he kept her and her
daughter until she appeared quite endurable to him, and he really married h=
er.
One
evening when the black bride was sitting on the King's knee, a white duck c=
ame
swimming up the gutter to the kitchen, and said to the kitchen-boy, "B=
oy,
light a fire, that I may warm my feathers." The kitchen-boy did it, and
lighted a fire on the hearth. Then came the duck and sat down by it, and sh=
ook
herself and smoothed her feathers to rights with her bill. While she was th=
us
sitting and enjoying herself, she asked, "What is my brother Reginer
doing?" The scullery-boy replied, "He is imprisoned in the pit wi=
th
adders and with snakes." Then she asked, "What is the black witch
doing in the house?" The boy answered, "She is loved by the King =
and
happy."
"May
God have mercy on him," said the duck, and swam forth by the sink.
The
next night she came again and put the same questions, and the third night a=
lso.
Then the kitchen-boy could bear it no longer, and went to the King and
discovered all to him. The King, however, wanted to see it for himself, and
next evening went thither, and when the duck thrust her head in through the
sink, he took his sword and cut through her neck, and suddenly she changed =
into
a most beautiful maiden, exactly like the picture, which her brother had ma=
de
of her. The King was full of joy, and as she stood there quite wet, he caus=
ed
splendid apparel to be brought and had her clothed in it. Then she told how=
she
had been betrayed by cunning and falsehood, and at last thrown down into the
water, and her first request was that her brother should be brought forth f=
rom
the pit of snakes, and when the King had fulfilled this request, he went in=
to
the chamber where the old witch was, and asked, What does she deserve who d=
oes this
and that? and related what had happened. Then was she so blinded that she w=
as
aware of nothing and said, "She deserves to be stripped naked, and put
into a barrel with nails, and that a horse should be harnessed to the barre=
l,
and the horse sent all over the world." All of which was done to her, =
and
to her black daughter. But the King married the white and beautiful bride, =
and
rewarded her faithful brother, and made him a rich and distinguished man.
THERE
was once on a time a King who had a great forest near his palace, full of a=
ll
kinds of wild animals. One day he sent out a huntsman to shoot him a roe, b=
ut
he did not come back. "Perhaps some accident has befallen him," s=
aid
the King, and the next day he sent out two more huntsmen who were to search=
for
him, but they too stayed away. Then on the third day, he sent for all his
huntsmen, and said, "Scour the whole forest through, and do not give up
until ye have found all three." But of these also, none came home agai=
n,
and of the pack of hounds which they had taken with them, none were seen mo=
re.
From that time forth, no one would any longer venture into the forest, and =
it
lay there in deep stillness and solitude, and nothing was seen of it, but
sometimes an eagle or a hawk flying over it. This lasted for many years, wh=
en a
strange huntsman announced himself to the King as seeking a situation, and
offered to go into the dangerous forest. The King, however, would not give =
his
consent, and said, "It is not safe in there; I fear it would fare with
thee no better than with the others, and thou wouldst never come out
again." The huntsman replied, "Lord, I will venture it at my own
risk, of fear I know nothing."
The
huntsman therefore betook himself with his dog to the forest. It was not lo=
ng
before the dog fell in with some game on the way, and wanted to pursue it; =
but
hardly had the dog run two steps when it stood before a deep pool, could go=
no
farther, and a naked arm stretched itself out of the water, seized it, and =
drew
it under, When the huntsman saw that, he went back and fetched three men to
come with buckets and bale out the water. When they could see to the bottom
there lay a wild man whose body was brown like rusty iron, and whose hair h=
ung
over his face down to his knees. They bound him with cords, and led him awa=
y to
the castle. There was great astonishment over the wild man; the King, howev=
er,
had him put in an iron cage in his court-yard, and forbade the door to be o=
pened
on pain of death, and the Queen herself was to take the key into her keepin=
g.
And from this time forth every one could again go into the forest with safe=
ty.
The
King had a son of eight years, who was once playing in the court-yard, and
while he was playing, his golden ball fell into the cage. The boy ran thith=
er
and said, "Give me my ball out." "Not till thou hast opened =
the door
for me," answered the man. "No," said the boy, "I will =
not
do that; the King has forbidden it," and ran away. The next day he aga=
in
went and asked for his ball; the wild man said, "Open my door," b=
ut
the boy would not. On the third day the King had ridden out hunting, and the
boy went once more and said, "I cannot open the door even if I wished,=
for
I have not the key." Then the wild man said, "It lies under thy
mother's pillow, thou canst get it there." The boy, who wanted to have=
his
ball back, cast all thought to the winds, and brought the key. The door ope=
ned
with difficulty, and the boy pinched his fingers. When it was open the wild=
man
stepped out, gave him the golden ball, and hurried away. The boy had become
afraid; he called and cried after him, "Oh, wild man, do not go away, =
or I
shall be beaten!" The wild man turned back, took him up, set him on his
shoulder, and went with hasty steps into the forest. When the King came hom=
e,
he observed the empty cage, and asked the Queen how that had happened? She =
knew
nothing about it, and sought the key, but it was gone. She called the boy, =
but
no one answered. The King sent out people to seek for him in the fields, but
they did not find him. Then he could easily guess what had happened, and mu=
ch
grief reigned in the royal court.
When
the wild man had once more reached the dark forest, he took the boy down fr=
om
his shoulder, and said to him, "Thou wilt never see thy father and mot=
her
again, but I will keep thee with me, for thou hast set me free, and I have
compassion on thee. If thou dost all I bid thee, thou shalt fare well. Of
treasure and gold have I enough, and more than anyone in the world." He
made a bed of moss for the boy on which he slept, and the next morning the =
man
took him to a well, and said, "Behold, the gold well is as bright and
clear as crystal, thou shalt sit beside it, and take care that nothing falls
into it, or it will be polluted. I will come every evening to see if thou h=
ast
obeyed my order." The boy placed himself by the margin of the well, and
often saw a golden fish or a golden snake show itself therein, and took care
that nothing fell in. As he was thus sitting, his finger hurt him so violen=
tly
that he involuntarily put it in the water. He drew it quickly out again, but
saw that it was quite gilded, and whatsoever pains he took to wash the gold=
off
again, all was to no purpose. In the evening Iron John came back, looked at=
the
boy, and said, "What has happened to the well?" "Nothing, no=
thing,"
he answered, and held his finger behind his back, that the man might not see
it. But he said, "Thou hast dipped thy finger into the water, this tim=
e it
may pass, but take care thou dost not again let anything go in." By
daybreak the boy was already sitting by the well and watching it. His finger
hurt him again and he passed it over his head, and then unhappily a hair fe=
ll
down into the well. He took it quickly out, but it was already quite gilded.
Iron John came, and already knew what had happened. "Thou hast let a h=
air
fall into the well," said he. "I will allow thee to watch by it o=
nce
more, but if this happens for the third time then the well is polluted, and
thou canst no longer remain with me."
On the
third day, the boy sat by the well, and did not stir his finger, however mu=
ch
it hurt him. But the time was long to him, and he looked at the reflection =
of
his face on the surface of the water. And as he still bent down more and mo=
re
while he was doing so, and trying to look straight into the eyes, his long =
hair
fell down from his shoulders into the water. He raised himself up quickly, =
but
the whole of the hair of his head was already golden and shone like the sun.
You may imagine how terrified the poor boy was! He took his pocket-handkerc=
hief
and tied it round his head, in order that the man might not see it. When he
came he already knew everything, and said, "Take the handkerchief
off." Then the golden hair streamed forth, and let the boy excuse hims=
elf
as he might, it was of no use. "Thou hast not stood the trial, and can=
st
stay here no longer. Go forth into the world, there thou wilt learn what
poverty is. But as thou hast not a bad heart, and as I mean well by thee, t=
here
is one thing I will grant thee; if thou fallest into any difficulty, come to
the forest and cry, 'Iron John,' and then I will come and help thee. My pow=
er
is great, greater than thou thinkest, and I have gold and silver in
abundance."
Then
the King's son left the forest, and walked by beaten and unbeaten paths ever
onwards until at length he reached a great city. There he looked for work, =
but
could find none, and he had learnt nothing by which he could help himself. =
At
length he went to the palace, and asked if they would take him in. The peop=
le
about court did not at all know what use they could make of him, but they l=
iked
him, and told him to stay. At length the cook took him into his service, and
said he might carry wood and water, and rake the cinders together. Once whe=
n it
so happened that no one else was at hand, the cook ordered him to carry the
food to the royal table, but as he did not like to let his golden hair be s=
een,
he kept his little cap on. Such a thing as that had never yet come under the
King's notice, and he said, "When thou comest to the royal table thou =
must
take thy hat off." He answered, "Ah, Lord, I cannot; I have a bad
sore place on my head." Then the King had the cook called before him a=
nd
scolded him, and asked how he could take such a boy as that into his servic=
e;
and that he was to turn him off at once. The cook, however, had pity on him,
and exchanged him for the gardener's boy.
And
now the boy had to plant and water the garden, hoe and dig, and bear the wi=
nd
and bad weather. Once in summer when he was working alone in the garden, the
day was so warm he took his little cap off that the air might cool him. As =
the
sun shone on his hair it glittered and flashed so that the rays fell into t=
he
bed-room of the King's daughter, and up she sprang to see what that could b=
e.
Then she saw the boy, and cried to him, "Boy, bring me a wreath of
flowers." He put his cap on with all haste, and gathered wild
field-flowers and bound them together. When he was ascending the stairs with
them, the gardener met him, and said, "How canst thou take the King's
daughter a garland of such common flowers? Go quickly, and get another, and
seek out the prettiest and rarest." "Oh, no," replied the bo=
y,
"the wild ones have more scent, and will please her better." When=
he
got into the room, the King's daughter said, "Take thy cap off, it is =
not
seemly to keep it on in my presence." He again said, "I may not, I
have a sore head." She, however, caught at his cap and pulled it off, =
and
then his golden hair rolled down on his shoulders, and it was splendid to
behold. He wanted to run out, but she held him by the arm, and gave him a
handful of ducats. With these he departed, but he cared nothing for the gold
pieces. He took them to the gardener, and said, "I present them to thy
children, they can play with them." The following day the King's daugh=
ter
again called to him that he was to bring her a wreath of field-flowers, and
when he went in with it, she instantly snatched at his cap, and wanted to t=
ake
it away from him, but he held it fast with both hands. She again gave him a
handful of ducats, but he would not keep them, and gave them to the gardener
for playthings for his children. On the third day things went just the same=
; she
could not get his cap away from him, and he would not have her money.
Not
long afterwards, the country was overrun by war. The King gathered together=
his
people, and did not know whether or not he could offer any opposition to the
enemy, who was superior in strength and had a mighty army. Then said the
gardener's boy, "I am grown up, and will go to the wars also, only giv=
e me
a horse." The others laughed, and said, "Seek one for thyself whe=
n we
are gone, we will leave one behind us in the stable for thee." When th=
ey
had gone forth, he went into the stable, and got the horse out; it was lame=
of
one foot, and limped hobblety jig, hobblety jig; nevertheless he mounted it,
and rode away to the dark forest. When he came to the outskirts, he called
"Iron John," three times so loudly that it echoed through the tre=
es.
Thereupon the wild man appeared immediately, and said, "What dost thou
desire?" "I want a strong steed, for I am going to the wars."
"That thou shalt have, and still more than thou askest for." Then=
the
wild man went back into the forest, and it was not long before a stable-boy
came out of it, who led a horse that snorted with its nostrils, and could
hardly be restrained, and behind them followed a great troop of soldiers
entirely equipped in iron, and their swords flashed in the sun. The youth m=
ade
over his three-legged horse to the stable-boy, mounted the other, and rode =
at
the head of the soldiers. When he got near the battle-field a great part of=
the
King's men had already fallen, and little was wanting to make the rest give
way. Then the youth galloped thither with his iron soldiers, broke like a
hurricane over the enemy, and beat down all who opposed him. They began to =
fly,
but the youth pursued, and never stopped, until there was not a single man
left. Instead, however, of returning to the King, he conducted his troop by
bye-ways back to the forest, and called forth Iron John. "What dost th=
ou
desire?" asked the wild man. "Take back thy horse and thy troops,=
and
give me my three-legged horse again." All that he asked was done, and =
soon
he was riding on his three-legged horse. When the King returned to his pala=
ce,
his daughter went to meet him, and wished him joy of his victory. "I am
not the one who carried away the victory," said he, "but a strang=
er
knight who came to my assistance with his soldiers." The daughter want=
ed
to hear who the strange knight was, but the King did not know, and said,
"He followed the enemy, and I did not see him again." She inquire=
d of
the gardener where his boy was, but he smiled, and said, "He has just =
come
home on his three-legged horse, and the others have been mocking him, and
crying, "Here comes our hobblety jig back again!" They asked, too,
"Under what hedge hast thou been lying sleeping all the time?" He,
however, said, "I did the best of all, and it would have gone badly
without me." And then he was still more ridiculed."
The
King said to his daughter, "I will proclaim a great feast that shall l=
ast
for three days, and thou shalt throw a golden apple. Perhaps the unknown wi=
ll
come to it." When the feast was announced, the youth went out to the
forest, and called Iron John. "What dost thou desire?" asked he.
"That I may catch the King's daughter's golden apple." "It i=
s as
safe as if thou hadst it already," said Iron John. "Thou shalt
likewise have a suit of red armour for the occasion, and ride on a spirited=
chestnut-horse."
When the day came, the youth galloped to the spot, took his place amongst t=
he
knights, and was recognized by no one. The King's daughter came forward, and
threw a golden apple to the knights, but none of them caught it but he, onl=
y as
soon as he had it he galloped away.
On the
second day Iron John equipped him as a white knight, and gave him a white
horse. Again he was the only one who caught the apple, and he did not linge=
r an
instant, but galloped off with it. The King grew angry, and said, "Tha=
t is
not allowed; he must appear before me and tell his name." He gave the
order that if the knight who caught the apple, should go away again they sh=
ould
pursue him, and if he would not come back willingly, they were to cut him d=
own
and stab him.
On the
third day, he received from Iron John a suit of black armour and a black ho=
rse,
and again he caught the apple. But when he was riding off with it, the King=
's
attendants pursued him, and one of them got so near him that he wounded the
youth's leg with the point of his sword. The youth nevertheless escaped from
them, but his horse leapt so violently that the helmet fell from the youth's
head, and they could see that he had golden hair. They rode back and announ=
ced
this to the King.
The
following day the King's daughter asked the gardener about his boy. "H=
e is
at work in the garden; the queer creature has been at the festival too, and
only came home yesterday evening; he has likewise shown my children three
golden apples which he has won."
The
King had him summoned into his presence, and he came and again had his litt=
le
cap on his head. But the King's daughter went up to him and took it off, and
then his golden hair fell down over his shoulders, and he was so handsome t=
hat
all were amazed. "Art thou the knight who came every day to the festiv=
al,
always in different colours, and who caught the three golden apples?"
asked the King. "Yes," answered he, "and here the apples
are," and he took them out of his pocket, and returned them to the Kin=
g.
"If you desire further proof, you may see the wound which your people =
gave
me when they followed me. But I am likewise the knight who helped you to yo=
ur
victory over your enemies." "If thou canst perform such deeds as
that, thou art no gardener's boy; tell me, who is thy father?" "My
father is a mighty King, and gold have I in plenty as great as I require.&q=
uot;
"I well see," said the King, "that I owe thanks to thee; can=
I
do anything to please thee?" "Yes," answered he, "that
indeed you can. Give me your daughter to wife." The maiden laughed, and
said, "He does not stand much on ceremony, but I have already seen by =
his
golden hair that he was no gardener's boy," and then she went and kiss=
ed
him. His father and mother came to the wedding, and were in great delight, =
for
they had given up all hope of ever seeing their dear son again. And as they
were sitting at the marriage-feast, the music suddenly stopped, the doors
opened, and a stately King came in with a great retinue. He went up to the
youth, embraced him and said, "I am Iron John, and was by enchantment a
wild man, but thou hast set me free; all the treasures which I possess, sha=
ll
be thy property."
EAST
INDIA was besieged by an enemy who would not retire until he had received s=
ix
hundred dollars. Then the townsfolk caused it to be proclaimed by beat of d=
rum
that whosoever was able to procure the money should be burgomaster. Now the=
re
was a poor fisherman who fished on the lake with his son, and the enemy came
and took the son prisoner, and gave the father six hundred dollars for him.=
So
the father went and gave them to the great men of the town, and the enemy
departed, and the fisherman became burgomaster. Then it was proclaimed that
whosoever did not say, "Mr. Burgomaster," should be put to death =
on
the gallows.
The
son got away again from the enemy, and came to a great forest on a high
mountain. The mountain opened, and he went into a great enchanted castle,
wherein chairs, tables, and benches were all hung with black. Then came thr=
ee
young princesses who were entirely dressed in black, but had a little white=
on
their faces; they told him he was not to be afraid, they would not hurt him,
and that he could deliver them. He said he would gladly do that, if he did =
but
know how. At this, they told him he must for a whole year not speak to them=
and
also not look at them, and what he wanted to have he was just to ask for, a=
nd
if they dared give him an answer they would do so. When he had been there f=
or a
long while he said he should like to go to his father, and they told him he
might go. He was to take with him this purse with money, put on this coat, =
and
in a week he must be back there again.
Then
he was caught up, and was instantly in East India. He could no longer find =
his
father in the fisherman's hut, and asked the people where the poor fisherman
could be, and they told him he must not say that, or he would come to the
gallows. Then he went to his father and said, "Fisherman, how hast thou
got here?" Then the father said, "Thou must not say that, if the
great men of the town knew of that, thou wouldst come to the gallows."=
He,
however, would not stop, and was brought to the gallows. When he was there,=
he
said, "O, my masters, just give me leave to go to the old fisherman's
hut." Then he put on his old smock-frock, and came back to the great m=
en,
and said, "Do ye not now see? Am I not the son of the poor fisherman? =
Did
I not earn bread for my father and mother in this dress?" Hereupon his
father knew him again, and begged his pardon, and took him home with him, a=
nd
then he related all that had happened to him, and how he had got into a for=
est
on a high mountain, and the mountain had opened and he had gone into an
enchanted castle, where all was black, and three young princesses had come =
to
him who were black except a little white on their faces. And they had told =
him not
to fear, and that he could deliver them. Then his mother said that might ve=
ry
likely not be a good thing to do, and that he ought to take a holy-water ve=
ssel
with him, and drop some boiling water on their faces.
He
went back again, and he was in great fear, and he dropped the water on their
faces as they were sleeping, and they all turned half-white. Then all the t=
hree
princesses sprang up, and said, "Thou accursed dog, our blood shall cry
for vengeance on thee! Now there is no man born in the world, nor will any =
ever
be born who can set us free! We have still three brothers who are bound by
seven chains they shall tear thee to pieces." Then there was a loud
shrieking all over the castle, and he sprang out of the window, and broke h=
is
leg, and the castle sank into the earth again, the mountain shut to again, =
and
no one knew where the castle had stood.
Between
Werrel and Soist there lived a man whose name was Knoist, and he had three
sons. One was blind, the other lame, and the third stark-naked. Once on a t=
ime
they went into a field, and there they saw a hare. The blind one shot it, t=
he
lame one caught it, the naked one put it in his pocket. Then they came to a
mighty big lake, on which there were three boats, one sailed, one sank, the
third had no bottom to it. They all three got into the one with no bottom to
it. Then they came to a mighty big forest in which there was a mighty big t=
ree;
in the tree was a mighty big chapel in the chapel was a sexton made of
beech-wood and a box-wood parson, who dealt out holy-water with cudgels.
"How
truly happy is that one Who can from holy water run!"
A girl
from Brakel once went to St. Anne's Chapel at the foot of the Hinnenberg, a=
nd
as she wanted to have a husband, and thought there was no one else in the
chapel, she sang,
"Oh,
holy Saint Anne! Help me soon=
to a
man. Thou know'st him right w=
ell,
By Suttmer gate does he dwell, His hair it is golden, Thou know'st him right
well."
The
clerk, however, was standing behind the altar and heard that, so he cried i=
n a
very gruff voice, "Thou shalt not have him! Thou shalt not have him!&q=
uot;
The maiden thought that the child Mary who stood by her mother Anne had cal=
led
out that to her, and was angry, and cried, "Fiddle de dee, conceited
thing, hold your tongue, and let your mother speak!"
"Whither
goest thou?" "To Walpe." "I to Walpe, thou to Walpe, so,
so, together we'll go."
"Hast
thou a man? What is his name?" "Cham." "My man Cham, thy
man Cham; I to Walpe, thou to Walpe; so, so, together we'll go."
"Hast thou a child; how is he styled?" "Wild." "My
child Wild, thy child Wild; my man Cham, thy man Cham; I to Walpe, thou to
Walpe, so, so, together we'll go." "Hast thou a cradle? How calle=
st
thou thy cradle?" "Hippodadle." "My cradle Hippodadle, =
my
child Wild, thy child Wild, my man Cham, thy man Cham; I to Walpe, thou to
Walpe, so, so, together we'll go."
"Hast
thou also a drudge? what name has thy drudge?" "From-thy-work- do=
-not-budge."
"My drudge, From-thy-work-do-not-budge: my child Wild, thy child Wild;=
my
man Cham, thy man Cham; I to Walpe, thou to Walpe; so, so, together we'll
go."
THERE
were once a little brother and a little sister, who loved each other with a=
ll
their hearts. Their own mother was, however, dead, and they had a step-moth=
er,
who was not kind to them, and secretly did everything she could to hurt the=
m.
It so happened that the two were playing with other children in a meadow be=
fore
the house, and there was a pond in the meadow which came up to one side of =
the
house. The children ran about it, and caught each other, and played at coun=
ting
out.
"Eneke
Beneke, let me live, And I to thee my bird will give. The little bird, it straw shall se=
ek,
The straw I'll give to the cow to eat. The pretty cow shall give me milk, T=
he
milk I'll to the baker take. The baker he shall bake a cake, The cake I'll =
give
unto the cat. The cat shall c=
atch
some mice for that, The mice I'll hang up in the smoke, And then you'll see=
the
snow."
They
stood in a circle while they played this, and the one to whom the word snow
fell, had to run away and all the others ran after him and caught him. As t=
hey
were running about so merrily the step-mother watched them from the window,=
and
grew angry. And as she understood arts of witchcraft she bewitched them bot=
h,
and changed the little brother into a fish, and the little sister into a la=
mb.
Then the fish swam here and there about the pond and was very sad, and the
lambkin walked up and down the meadow, and was miserable, and could not eat=
or
touch one blade of grass. Thus passed a long time, and then strangers came =
as
visitors to the castle. The false step-mother thought, "This is a good
opportunity," and called the cook and said to him, "Go and fetch =
the
lamb from the meadow and kill it, we have nothing else for the visitors.&qu=
ot;
Then the cook went away and got the lamb, and took it into the kitchen and =
tied
its feet, and all this it bore patiently. When he had drawn out his knife a=
nd
was whetting it on the door-step to kill the lamb, he noticed a little fish
swimming backwards and forwards in the water, in front of the kitchen-sink =
and
looking up at him. This, however, was the brother, for when the fish saw the
cook take the lamb away, it followed them and swam along the pond to the ho=
use;
then the lamb cried down to it,
"Ah,
brother, in the pond so deep, How sad is my poor heart! Even now the cook he whets his kni=
fe To
take away my tender life."
The
little fish answered,
"Ah, little sister, up on high=
How sad is my poor heart While in this pond I lie."
When
the cook heard that the lambkin could speak and said such sad words to the =
fish
down below, he was terrified and thought this could be no common lamb, but =
must
be bewitched by the wicked woman in the house. Then said he, "Be easy,=
I
will not kill thee," and took another sheep and made it ready for the
guests, and conveyed the lambkin to a good peasant woman, to whom he related
all that he had seen and heard.
The
peasant was, however, the very woman who had been foster-mother to the litt=
le
sister, and she suspected at once who the lamb was, and went with it to a w=
ise
woman. Then the wise woman pronounced a blessing over the lambkin and the
little fish, by means of which they regained their human forms, and after t=
his
she took them both into a little hut in a great forest, where they lived al=
one,
but were contented and happy.
There
were once two brothers, the one rich, the other poor. The rich one, however,
gave nothing to the poor one, and he gained a scanty living by trading in c=
orn,
and often did so badly that he had no bread for his wife and children. Once
when he was wheeling a barrow through the forest he saw, on one side of him=
, a
great, bare, naked-looking mountain, and as he had never seen it before, he
stood still and stared at it with amazement.
While
he was thus standing he saw a twelve great, wild men coming towards him, an=
d as
he believed they were robbers he pushed his barrow into the thicket, climbe=
d up
a tree, and waited to see what would happen. The twelve men, however, went =
to
the mountain and cried, "Semsi mountain, Semsi mountain, open," a=
nd
immediately the barren mountain opened down the middle, and the twelve went
into it, and as soon as they were within, it shut. After a short time, howe=
ver,
it opened again, and the men came forth carrying heavy sacks on their
shoulders, and when they were all once more in the daylight they said,
"Semsi mountain, Semsi mountain, shut thyself;" then the mountain
closed together, and there was no longer any entrance to be seen to it, and=
the
twelve went away.
When
they were quite out of sight the poor man got down from the tree, and was
curious to know what really was secretly hidden in the mountain. So he went=
up
to it and said, "Semsi mountain, Semsi mountain, open," and the m=
ountain
opened to him also. The he went inside, and the whole mountain was a cavern
full of silver and gold, and behind lay great piles of pearls and sparkling
jewels, heaped up like corn. The poor man hardly knew what to do, and wheth=
er
he might take any of these treasures for himself or not; but at last he fil=
led
his pockets with gold, but he left the pearls and precious stones where they
were. When he came out again he also said, "Semsi mountain, Semsi
mountain, shut thyself;" and the mountain closed itself, and he went h=
ome
with his barrow.
And
now he had no more cause for anxiety, but could buy bread for his wife and
children with his gold, and wine into the bargain. He lived joyously and
uprightly, gave help to the poor, and did good to every one. When, however,=
the
money came to an end he went to his brother, borrowed a measure that held a
bushel, and brought himself some more, but did not touch any of the most
valuable things. When for the third time he wanted to fetch something, he a=
gain
borrowed the measure of his brother. The rich man had, however, long been
envious of his brother's possessions, and of the handsome way of living whi=
ch
he had set on foot, and could not understand from whence the riches came, a=
nd
what his brother wanted with the measure. Then he thought of a cunning tric=
k,
and covered the bottom of the measure with pitch, and when he got the measu=
re
back a piece of money was sticking in it. He at once went to his brother an=
d asked
him, "What hast thou been measuring in the bushel measure?"
"Corn and barley," said the other. Then he showed him the piece of
money, and threatened that if he did not tell the truth he would accuse him
before a court of justice. The poor man then told him everything, just as i=
t happened.
The rich man, however, ordered his carriage to be made ready, and drove awa=
y,
resolved to use the opportunity better than his brother had done, and to br=
ing
back with him quite different treasures.
When
he came to the mountain he cried, "Semsi mountain, Semsi mountain, ope=
n."
The mountain opened, and he went inside it. There lay the treasures all bef=
ore
him, and for a long time he did not know which to clutch at first. At lengt=
h he
loaded himself with as many precious stones as he could carry. He wished to
carry his burden outside, but, as his heart and soul were entirely full of =
the
treasures, he had forgotten the name of the mountain, and cried, "Sime=
li
mountain, Simeli mountain, open." That, however, was not the right nam=
e,
and the mountain never stirred, but remained shut. Then he was alarmed, but=
the
longer he thought about it the more his thoughts confused themselves, and h=
is
treasures were no more of any use to him. In the evening the mountain opene=
d,
and the twelve robbers came in, and when they saw him they laughed, and cri=
ed
out, "Bird, have we caught thee at last! Didst thou think we had never
noticed that thou hadst been in here twice? We could not catch thee then; t=
his third
time thou shalt not get out again!" Then he cried, "It was not I,=
it
was my brother," but let him beg for his life and say what he would, t=
hey
cut his head off.
There
was once a poor woman who had a son, who much wished to travel, but his mot=
her
said, "How canst thou travel? We have no money at all for thee to take
away with thee." Then said the son, "I will manage very well for
myself; I will always say, Not much, not much, not much."
So he
walked for a long time and always said, "Not much, not much, not
much." Then he passed by a company of fishermen and said, "God sp=
eed
you! not much, not much, not much." "What sayst thou churl, 'not =
much?"'
And when the net was drawn out they had not caught much fish. So one of them
fell on the youth with a stick and said, "Hast thou never seen me
threshing?" "What ought I to say, then?" asked the youth.
"Thou must say, 'Get it full, get it full.'" After this he again
walked a long time, and said, "Get it full, get it full," until he
came to the gallows, where they had got a poor sinner whom they were about =
to
hang. Then said he, "Good morning; get it full, get it full."
"What sayst thou, knave, get it full? Dost thou want to make out that
there are still more wicked people in the world is not this enough?" A=
nd
he again got some blows on his back. "What am I to say, then?" sa=
id
he. "Thou must say, may God have pity on the poor soul."
Again
the youth walked on for a long while and said, "May God have pity on t=
he
poor soul!" Then he came to a pit by which stood a knacker who was cut=
ting
up a horse. The youth said, "Good morning; God have pity on the poor
soul!" "What dost thou say, thou ill-tempered knave?" and the
knacker gave him such a box on the ear, that he could not see out of his ey=
es.
"What am I to say, then?" "Thou must say, 'There lies the ca=
rrion
in the pit!'"
So he
walked on, and always said, "There lies the carrion in the pit, there =
lies
the carrion in the pit." And he came to a cart full of people, so he s=
aid,
"Good morning, there lies the carrion in the pit!" Then the cart
pushed him into a hole, and the driver took his whip and cracked it upon the
youth, till he was forced to crawl back to his mother, and as long as he li=
ved
he never went out a-travelling again.
Once
on a time there lived a King and a Queen, who were rich, and had everything
they wanted, but no children. The Queen lamented over this day and night, a=
nd
said, "I am like a field on which nothing grows." At last God gave
her her wish, but when the child came into the world, it did not look like a
human child, but was a little donkey. When the mother saw that, her
lamentations and outcries began in real earnest; she said she would far rat=
her
have had no child at all than have a donkey, and that they were to throw it
into the water that the fishes might devour it. But the King said, "No,
since God has sent him he shall be my son and heir, and after my death sit =
on
the royal throne, and wear the kingly crown." The donkey, therefore, w=
as
brought up and grew bigger, and his ears grew up beautifully high and strai=
ght.
He was, however, of a merry disposition, jumped about, played and had espec=
ial
pleasure in music, so that he went to a celebrated musician and said,
"Teach me thine art, that I may play the lute as well as thou dost.&qu=
ot;
"Ah, dear little master," answered the musician, "that would
come very hard to you, your fingers are certainly not suited to it, and are=
far
too big. I am afraid the strings would not last." No excuses were of a=
ny
use. The donkey was determined to play the lute; he was persevering and
industrious, and at last learnt to do it as well as the master himself. The
young lordling once went out walking full of thought and came to a well, he=
looked
into it and in the mirror-clear water saw his donkey's form. He was so
distressed about it, that he went out into the wide world and only took with
him one faithful companion. They travelled up and down, and at last they ca=
me
into a kingdom where an old King reigned who had an only but wonderfully
beautiful daughter. The donkey said, "Here we will stay," knocked=
at
the gate, and cried, "A guest is without open, that he may enter."
As, however, the gate was not opened, he sat down, took his lute and played=
it
in the most delightful manner with his two fore-feet. Then the door-keeper
opened his eyes most wonderfully wide, and ran to the King and said,
"Outside by the gate sits a young donkey which plays the lute as well =
as
an experienced master!" "Then let the musician come to me," =
said
the King. When, however, a donkey came in, every one began to laugh at the
lute-player. And now the donkey was asked to sit down and eat with the
servants. He, however, was unwilling, and said, "I am no common
stable-ass, I am a noble one." Then they said, "If that is what t=
hou
art, seat thyself with the men of war." "No," said he, "=
;I
will sit by the King." The King smiled, and said good-humouredly, &quo=
t;Yes,
it shall be as thou wilt, little ass, come here to me." Then he asked,
"Little ass, how does my daughter please thee?" The donkey turned=
his
head towards her, looked at her, nodded and said, "I like her above
measure, I have never yet seen anyone so beautiful as she is." "W=
ell,
then, thou shalt sit next her too," said the King. "That is exact=
ly
what I wish," said the donkey, and he placed himself by her side, ate =
and
drank, and knew how to behave himself daintily and cleanly. When the noble
beast had stayed a long time at the King's court, he thought, "What go=
od
does all this do me, I shall still have to go home again?" let his head
hang sadly, and went to the King and asked for his dismissal. But the King =
had
grown fond of him, and said, "Little ass, what ails thee? Thou lookest=
as
sour as a jug of vinegar, I will give thee what thou wantest. Dost thou want
gold?" "No," said the donkey, and shook his head. "Dost
thou want jewels and rich dress?" "No." "Dost thou wish=
for
half my kingdom?" "Indeed, no." Then said the King, "if=
I
did but know what would make thee content. Wilt thou have my pretty daughte=
r to
wife?" "Ah, yes," said the ass, "I should indeed like
her," and all at once he became quite merry and full of happiness, for
that was exactly what he was wishing for. So a great and splendid wedding w=
as
held. In the evening, when the bride and bridegroom were led into their
bed-room, the King wanted to know if the ass would behave well, and ordered=
a
servant to hide himself there. When they were both within, the bridegroom
bolted the door, looked around, and as he believed that they were quite alo=
ne,
he suddenly threw off his ass's skin, and stood there in the form of a hand=
some
royal youth. "Now," said he, "thou seest who I am, and seest
also that I am not unworthy of thee." Then the bride was glad, and kis=
sed
him, and loved him dearly. When morning came, he jumped up, put his animal's
skin on again, and no one could have guessed what kind of a form was hidden
beneath it. Soon came the old King, "Ah," cried he, "is the
little ass merry? But surely thou art sad?" said he to his daughter, &=
quot;that
thou hast not got a proper man for thy husband?" "Oh, no, dear fa=
ther,
I love him as well as if he were the handsomest in the world, and I will ke=
ep
him as long as I live." The King was surprised, but the servant who had
concealed himself came and revealed everything to him. The King said,
"That cannot be true." "Then watch yourself the next night, =
and
you will see it with your own eyes; and hark you, lord King, if you were to
take his skin away and throw it in the fire, he would be forced to show him=
self
in his true shape." "Thy advice is good," said the King, and=
at
night when they were asleep, he stole in, and when he got to the bed he saw=
by
the light of the moon a noble-looking youth lying there, and the skin lay
stretched on the ground. So he took it away, and had a great fire lighted
outside, and threw the skin into it, and remained by it himself until it was
all burnt to ashes. As, however, he was anxious to know how the robbed man
would behave himself, he stayed awake the whole night and watched. When the
youth had slept his sleep out, he got up by the first light of morning, and
wanted to put on the ass's skin, but it was not to be found. On this he was
alarmed, and, full of grief and anxiety, said, "Now I shall have to
contrive to escape." But when he went out, there stood the King, who s=
aid,
"My son, whither away in such haste? what hast thou in mind? Stay here,
thou art such a handsome man, thou shalt not go away from me. I will now gi=
ve
thee half my kingdom, and after my death thou shalt have the whole of it.&q=
uot;
"Then I hope that what begins so well may end well, and I will stay wi=
th
you," said the youth. And the old man gave him half the kingdom, and i=
n a
year's time, when he died, the youth had the whole, and after the death of =
his
father he had another kingdom as well, and lived in all magnificence.
A man
and his wife were once sitting by the door of their house, and they had a
roasted chicken set before them, and were about to eat it together. Then the
man saw that his aged father was coming, and hastily took the chicken and h=
id
it, for he would not permit him to have any of it. The old man came, took a
drink, and went away. Now the son wanted to put the roasted chicken on the
table again, but when he took it up, it had become a great toad, which jump=
ed
into his face and sat there and never went away again, and if any one wante=
d to
take it off, it looked venomously at him as if it would jump in his face, so
that no one would venture to touch it. And the ungrateful son was forced to
feed the toad every day, or else it fed itself on his face; and thus he went
about the world without knowing rest.
THERE
were once two brothers who both served as soldiers; one of them was rich, a=
nd
the other poor. Then the poor one, to escape from his poverty, put off his
soldier's coat, and turned farmer. He dug and hoed his bit of land, and sow=
ed
it with turnip-seed. The seed came up, and one turnip grew there which beca=
me
large and vigorous, and visibly grew bigger and bigger, and seemed as if it
would never stop growing, so that it might have been called the princess of
turnips, for never was such an one seen before, and never will such an one =
be
seen again.
At
length it was so enormous that by itself it filled a whole cart, and two ox=
en
were required to draw it, and the farmer had not the least idea what he was=
to
do with the turnip, or whether it would be a fortune to him or a misfortune=
. At
last he thought, "If thou sellest it, what wilt thou get for it that i=
s of
any importance, and if thou eatest it thyself, why, the small turnips would=
do
thee just as much good; it would be better to take it to the King, and make=
him
a present of it."
So he
placed it on a cart, harnessed two oxen, took it to the palace, and present=
ed
it to the King. "What strange thing is this?" said the King.
"Many wonderful things have come before my eyes, but never such a mons=
ter
as this! From what seed can this have sprung, or are you a luck-child and h=
ave
met with it by chance?" "Ah, no!" said the farmer, "no
luck-child am I. I am a poor soldier, who because he could no longer support
himself hung his soldier's coat on a nail and took to farming land. I have a
brother who is rich and well known to you, Lord King, but I, because I have
nothing, am forgotten by every one."
Then
the King felt compassion for him, and said, "Thou shalt be raised from=
thy
poverty, and shalt have such gifts from me that thou shalt be equal to thy =
rich
brother." Then he bestowed on him much gold, and lands, and meadows, a=
nd
herds, and made him immensely rich, so that the wealth of the other brother
could not be compared with his. When the rich brother heard what the poor o=
ne
had gained for himself with one single turnip, he envied him, and thought in
every way how he also could get hold of a similar piece of luck. He would,
however, set about it in a much wiser way, and took gold and horses and car=
ried
them to the King, and made certain the King would give him a much larger
present in return. If his brother had got so much for one turnip, what woul=
d he
not carry away with him in return for such beautiful things as these? The K=
ing
accepted his present, and said he had nothing to give him in return that was
more rare and excellent than the great turnip. So the rich man was obliged =
to
put his brother's turnip in a cart and have it taken to his home. When ther=
e he
did not know on whom to vent his rage and anger, until bad thoughts came to
him, and he resolved to kill his brother. He hired murderers, who were to l=
ie
in ambush, and then he went to his brother and said, "Dear brother, I =
know
of a hidden treasure, we will dig it up together, and divide it between
us." The other agreed to this, and accompanied him without suspicion.
While they were on their way, however, the murderers fell on him, bound him,
and would have hanged him to a tree. But just as they were doing this, loud
singing and the sound of a horse's feet were heard in the distance. On this=
their
hearts were filled with terror, and they pushed their prisoner head first i=
nto
the sack, hung it on a branch, and took to flight. He, however, worked up t=
here
until he had made a hole in the sack through which he could put his head. T=
he
man who was coming by was no other than a travelling student, a young fello=
w who
rode on his way through the wood joyously singing his song. When he who was
aloft saw that someone was passing below him, he cried, "Good day! You
have come at a lucky time." The student looked round on every side, but
did not know whence the voice came. At last he said, "Who calls me?&qu=
ot;
Then an answer came from the top of the tree, "Raise your eyes; here I=
sit
aloft in the Sack of Wisdom. In a short time have I learnt great things;
compared with this all schools are a jest; in a very short time I shall have
learnt everything, and shall descend wiser than all other men. I understand=
the
stars, and the signs of the Zodiac, and the tracks of the winds, the sand of
the sea, the healing of illness, and the virtues of all herbs, birds, and
stones. If you were once within it you would feel what noble things issue f=
orth
from the Sack of Knowledge."
The
student, when he heard all this, was astonished, and said, "Blessed be=
the
hour in which I have found thee! May not I also enter the sack for a
while?" He who was above replied as if unwillingly, "For a short =
time
I will let you get into it, if you reward me and give me good words; but you
must wait an hour longer, for one thing remains which I must learn before I=
do
it." When the student had waited a while he became impatient, and begg=
ed
to be allowed to get in at once, his thirst for knowledge was so very great=
. So
he who was above pretended at last to yield, and said, "In order that I
may come forth from the house of knowledge you must let it down by the rope,
and then you shall enter it." So the student let the sack down, untied=
it,
and set him free, and then cried, "Now draw me up at once," and w=
as
about to get into the sack. "Halt!" said the other, "that wo=
n't
do," and took him by the head and put him upside down into the sack,
fastened it, and drew the disciple of wisdom up the tree by the rope. Then =
he
swung him in the air and said, "How goes it with thee, my dear fellow?
Behold, already thou feelest wisdom coming, and art gaining valuable
experience. Keep perfectly quiet until thou becomest wiser." Thereupon=
he
mounted the student's horse and rode away, but in an hour's time sent some =
one
to let the student out again.
In the
time when our Lord still walked this earth, he and St. Peter stopped one
evening at a smith's and received free quarters. Then it came to pass that a
poor beggar, hardly pressed by age and infirmity, came to this house and be=
gged
alms of the smith. St. Peter had compassion on him and said, "Lord and
master, if it please thee, cure his torments that he may be able to win his=
own
bread." The Lord said kindly, "Smith, lend me thy forge, and put =
on
some coals for me, and then I will make this ailing old man young again.&qu=
ot;
The smith was quite willing, and St. Peter blew the bellows, and when the c=
oal
fire sparkled up large and high our Lord took the little old man, pushed hi=
m in
the forge in the midst of the red-hot fire, so that he glowed like a rose-b=
ush,
and praised God with a loud voice. After that the Lord went to the quenching
tub, put the glowing little man into it so that the water closed over him, =
and
after he had carefully cooled him, gave him his blessing, when behold the
little man sprang nimbly out, looking fresh, straight, healthy, and as if he
were but twenty. The smith, who had watched everything closely and attentiv=
ely,
invited them all to supper. He, however, had an old half-blind crooked,
mother-in-law who went to the youth, and with great earnestness asked if the
fire had burnt him much. He answered that he had never felt more comfortabl=
e,
and that he had sat in the red heat as if he had been in cool dew. The yout=
h's
words echoed in the ears of the old woman all night long, and early next
morning, when the Lord had gone on his way again and had heartily thanked t=
he
smith, the latter thought he might make his old mother-in-law young again
likewise, as he had watched everything so carefully, and it lay in the prov=
ince
of his trade. So he called to ask her if she, too, would like to go bounding
about like a girl of eighteen. She said, "With all my heart, as the yo=
uth
has come out of it so well." So the smith made a great fire, and thrust
the old woman into it, and she writhed about this way and that, and uttered=
terrible
cries of murder. "Sit still; why art thou screaming and jumping about
so?" cried he, and as he spoke he blew the bellows again until all her
rags were burnt. The old woman cried without ceasing, and the smith thought=
to
himself, "I have not quite the right art," and took her out and t=
hrew
her into the cooling-tub. Then she screamed so loudly that the smith's wife
upstairs and her daughter-in-law heard, and they both ran downstairs, and s=
aw
the old woman lying in a heap in the quenching-tub, howling and screaming, =
with
her face wrinkled and shrivelled and all out of shape. Thereupon the two, w=
ho
were both with child, were so terrified that that very night two boys were =
born
who were not made like men but apes, and they ran into the woods, and from =
them
sprang the race of apes.
The
Lord God had created all animals, and had chosen out the wolf to be his dog,
but he had forgotten the goat. Then the Devil made ready and began to create
also, and created goats with fine long tails. Now when they went to pasture,
they generally remained caught in the hedges by their tails, then the Devil=
had
to go there and disentangle them, with a great deal of trouble. This enraged
him at last, and he went and bit off the tail of every goat, as may be seen=
to
this day by the stump. Then he let them go to pasture alone, but it came to
pass that the Lord God perceived how at one time they gnawed away at a frui=
tful
tree, at another injured the noble vines, or destroyed other tender plants.
This distressed him, so that in his goodness and mercy he summoned his wolv=
es, who
soon tore in pieces the goats that went there. When the devil observed this=
, he
went before the Lord and said, "Thy creatures have destroyed mine.&quo=
t;
The Lord answered, "Why didst thou create things to do harm?" The=
Devil
said, "I was compelled to do it: inasmuch as my thoughts run on evil, =
what
I create can have no other nature, and thou must pay me heavy damages."
"I will pay thee as soon as the oak leaves fall; come then, thy money =
will
then be ready counted out." When the oak-leaves had fallen, the Devil =
came
and demanded what was due to him. But the Lord said, "In the church of
Constantinople stands a tall oak-tree which still has all its leaves."
With raging and curses, the Devil departed, and went to seek the oak, wande=
red
in the wilderness for six months before he found it, and when he returned, =
all
the oaks had in the meantime covered themselves again with green leaves. Th=
en
he had to forfeit his indemnity, and in his rage he put out the eyes of all=
the
remaining goats, and put his own in instead.
This
is why all goats have devil's eyes, and their tails bitten off, and why he
likes to assume their shape.
There
was once an enchanter who was standing in the midst of a great crowd of peo=
ple
performing his wonders. He had a cock brought in, which lifted a heavy beam=
and
carried it as if it were as light as a feather. But a girl was present who =
had
just found a bit of four-leaved clover, and had thus become so wise that no
deception could stand out against her, and she saw that the beam was nothing
but a straw. So she cried, "You people, do you not see that it is a st=
raw
that the cock is carrying, and no beam?" Immediately the enchantment
vanished, and the people saw what it was, and drove the magician away in sh=
ame
and disgrace. He, however, full of inward anger, said, "I will soon
revenge myself?"
After
some time the girl's wedding-day came, and she was decked out, and went in =
a great
procession over the fields to the place where the church was. All at once s=
he
came to a stream which was very much swollen, and there was no bridge and no
plank to cross it. Then the bride nimbly took her clothes up, and wanted to
wade through it. And just as she was thus standing in the water, a man, and=
it
was the enchanter, cried mockingly close beside her, "Aha! Where are t=
hine
eyes that thou takest that for water?" Then her eyes were opened, and =
she
saw that she was standing with her clothes lifted up in the middle of a fie=
ld
that was blue with the flowers of blue flax. Then all the people saw it
likewise, and chased her away with ridicule and laughter.
There
was once an old woman, but thou hast surely seen an old woman go a-begging
before now? This woman begged likewise, and when she got anything she said,
"May God reward you." The beggar-woman came to a door, and there =
by
the fire a friendly rogue of a boy was standing warming himself. The boy sa=
id
kindly to the poor old woman as she was standing shivering thus by the door,
"Come, old mother, and warm yourself." She came in, but stood too
near the fire, so that her old rags began to burn, and she was not aware of=
it.
The boy stood and saw that, but he ought to have put the flames out. Is it =
not
true that he ought to have put them out? And if he had not any water, then
should he have wept all the water in his body out of his eyes, and that wou=
ld
have supplied two pretty streams with which to extinguish them.
A
certain King had three sons who were all equally dear to him, and he did not
know which of them to appoint as his successor after his own death. When the
time came when he was about to die, he summoned them to his bedside and sai=
d,
"Dear children, I have been thinking of something which I will declare
unto you; whichsoever of you is the laziest shall have the kingdom." T=
he
eldest said, "Then, father, the kingdom is mine, for I am so idle that=
if
I lie down to rest, and a drop falls in my eye, I will not open it that I m=
ay
sleep." The second said; "Father, the kingdom belongs to me, for =
I am
so idle that when I am sitting by the fire warming myself, I would rather l=
et
my heel be burnt off than draw back my leg." The third said, "Fat=
her,
the kingdom is mine, for I am so idle that if I were going to be hanged, and
had the rope already round my neck, and any one put a sharp knife into my h=
and
with which I might cut the rope, I would rather let myself be hanged than r=
aise
my hand to the rope." When the father heard that, he said, "Thou =
hast
carried it the farthest, and shalt be King."
Twelve
servants who had done nothing all the day would not exert themselves at nig=
ht
either, but laid themselves on the grass and boasted of their idleness. The
first said, "What is your laziness to me, I have to concern myself abo=
ut
mine own? The care of my body is my principal work, I eat not a little and
drink still more. When I have had four meals, I fast a short time until I f=
eel
hunger again, and that suits me best. To rise betimes is not for me; when i=
t is
getting near mid-day, I already seek out a resting-place for myself. If the
master call, I do exactly as if I had not heard him, and if he call for the
second time, I wait awhile before I get up, and go to him very slowly. In t=
his
way life is endurable."
The
second said, "I have a horse to look after, but I leave the bit in his
mouth, and if I do not want to do it, I give him no food, and I say he has =
had
it already. I, however, lay myself in the oat-chest and sleep for four hour=
s.
After this I stretch out one foot and move it a couple of times over the
horse's body, and then he is combed and cleaned. Who is going to make a gre=
at
business of that? Nevertheless service is too toilsome for me."
The
third said, "Why plague oneself with work? Nothing comes of it! I laid
myself in the sun, and fell asleep. It began to rain a little, but why shou=
ld I
get up? I let it rain on in God's name. At last came a splashing shower, so
heavy indeed, that it pulled the hair out of my head and washed it away, an=
d I
got a hole in the skull; I put a plaster on it, and then it was all right. I
have already had several injuries of that kind."
The
fourth said, "If I am to undertake a piece of work, I first loiter abo=
ut
for an hour that I may save up my strength. After that I begin quite slowly,
and ask if no one is there who could help me. Then I let him do the chief of
the work, and in reality only look on; but that also is still too much for
me."
The
fifth said, "What does that matter? Just think, I am to take away the =
manure
from the horse's stable, and load the cart with it. I let it go on slowly, =
and
if I have taken anything on the fork, I only half-raise it up, and then I r=
est
just a quarter of an hour until I quite throw it in. It is enough and to sp=
are
if I take out a cartful in the day. I have no fancy for killing myself with
work."
The
sixth said, "Shame on ye; I am afraid of no work, but I lie down for t=
hree
weeks, and never once take my clothes off. What is the use of buckling your
shoes on? For aught I care they may fall off my feet, it is no matter. If I=
am
going up some steps, I drag one foot slowly after the other on to the first
step, and then I count the rest of them that I may know where I must
rest."
The
seventh said, "That will not do with me; my master looks after my work,
only he is not at home the whole day. But I neglect nothing, I run as fast =
as
it is possible to do when one crawls. If I am to get on, four sturdy men mu=
st
push me with all their might. I came where six men were lying sleeping on a=
bed
beside each other. I lay down by them and slept too. There was no wakening =
me
again, and when they wanted to have me home, they had to carry me." The
eighth said, "I see plainly that I am the only active fellow; if a sto=
ne
lie before me, I do not give myself the trouble to raise my legs and step o=
ver
it. I lay myself down on the ground, and if I am wet and covered with mud a=
nd
dirt, I stay lying until the sun has dried me again. At the very most, I on=
ly
turn myself so that it can shine on me." The ninth said, "That is=
the
right way! To-day the bread was before me, but I was too idle to take it, a=
nd
nearly died of hunger! Moreover a jug stood by it, but it was so big and he=
avy
that I did not like to lift it up, and preferred bearing thirst. Just to tu=
rn myself
round was too much for me, I remained lying like a log the whole day."=
The
tenth said, "Laziness has brought misfortune on me, a broken leg and
swollen calf. Three of us were lying in the road, and I had my legs stretch=
ed
out. Some one came with a cart, and the wheels went over me. I might indeed
have drawn my legs back, but I did not hear the cart coming, for the midges
were humming about my ears, and creeping in at my nose and out again at my
mouth; who can take the trouble to drive the vermin away?"
The
eleventh said, "I gave up my place yesterday. I had no fancy for carry=
ing
the heavy books to my master any longer or fetching them away again. There =
was
no end of it all day long. But to tell the truth, he gave me my dismissal, =
and
would not keep me any longer, for his clothes, which I had left lying in the
dust, were all moth-eaten, and I am very glad of it."
The
twelfth said, "To-day I had to drive the cart into the country, and ma=
de
myself a bed of straw on it, and had a good sleep. The reins slipped out of=
my
hand, and when I awoke, the horse had nearly torn itself loose, the harness=
was
gone, the strap which fastened the horse to the shafts was gone, and so were
the collar, the bridle and bit. Some one had come by, who had carried all o=
ff.
Besides this, the cart had got into a quagmire and stuck fast. I left it
standing, and stretched myself on the straw again. At last the master came
himself, and pushed the cart out, and if he had not come I should not be ly=
ing
here but there, and sleeping in full tranquillity."
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>152 The Shepherd Boy<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
There
was once on a time a shepherd boy whose fame spread far and wide because of=
the
wise answers which he gave to every question. The King of the country heard=
of
it likewise, but did not believe it, and sent for the boy. Then he said to =
him,
"If thou canst give me an answer to three questions which I will ask t=
hee,
I will look on thee as my own child, and thou shalt dwell with me in my roy=
al
palace." The boy said, "What are the three questions?" The K=
ing
said, "The first is, how many drops of water are there in the ocean?&q=
uot;
The shepherd boy answered, "Lord King, if you will have all the rivers=
on
earth dammed up so that not a single drop runs from them into the sea until=
I
have counted it, I will tell you how many drops there are in the sea."=
The
King said, "The next question is, how many stars are there in the
sky?" The shepherd boy said, "Give me a great sheet of white
paper," and then he made so many fine points on it with a pen that they
could scarcely be seen, and it was all but impossible to count them; any one
who looked at them would have lost his sight. Then he said, "There are=
as
many stars in the sky as there are points on the paper; just count them.&qu=
ot;
But no one was able to do it. The King said, "The third question is, h=
ow
many seconds of time are there in eternity." Then said the shepherd bo=
y, "In
Lower Pomerania is the Diamond Mountain, which is two miles and a half high,
two miles and a half wide, and two miles and a half in depth; every hundred
years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on it, and when the whole
mountain is worn away by this, then the first second of eternity will be
over."
The
King said, "Thou hast answered the three questions like a wise man, and
shalt henceforth dwell with me in my royal palace, and I will regard thee a=
s my
own child."
There
was once on a time a little girl whose father and mother were dead, and she=
was
so poor that she no longer had any little room to live in, or bed to sleep =
in,
and at last she had nothing else but the clothes she was wearing and a litt=
le
bit of bread in her hand which some charitable soul had given her. She was,
however, good and pious. And as she was thus forsaken by all the world, she
went forth into the open country, trusting in the good God. Then a poor man=
met
her, who said, "Ah, give me something to eat, I am so hungry!" She
reached him the whole of her piece of bread, and said, "May God bless =
it
to thy use," and went onwards. Then came a child who moaned and said,
"My head is so cold, give me something to cover it with." So she =
took
off her hood and gave it to him; and when she had walked a little farther, =
she
met another child who had no jacket and was frozen with cold. Then she gave=
it
her own; and a little farther on one begged for a frock, and she gave away =
that
also. At length she got into a forest and it had already become dark, and t=
here
came yet another child, and asked for a little shirt, and the good little g=
irl
thought to herself, "It is a dark night and no one sees thee, thou can=
st
very well give thy little shirt away," and took it off, and gave away =
that
also. And as she so stood, and had not one single thing left, suddenly some
stars from heaven fell down, and they were nothing else but hard smooth pie=
ces
of money, and although she had just given her little shirt away, she had a =
new
one which was of the very finest linen. Then she gathered together the money
into this, and was rich all the days of her life.
A
father was one day sitting at dinner with his wife and his children, and a =
good
friend who had come on a visit was with them. And as they thus sat, and it =
was
striking twelve o'clock, the stranger saw the door open, and a very pale ch=
ild
dressed in snow-white clothes came in. It did not look around, and it did n=
ot
speak; but went straight into the next room. Soon afterwards it came back, =
and
went out at the door again in the same quiet manner. On the second and on t=
he
third day, it came also exactly in the same way. At last the stranger asked=
the
father to whom the beautiful child that went into the next room every day at
noon belonged? "I have never seen it," said he, neither did he kn=
ow
to whom it could belong. The next day when it again came, the stranger poin=
ted
it out to the father, who however did not see it, and the mother and the
children also all saw nothing. On this the stranger got up, went to the room
door, opened it a little, and peeped in. Then he saw the child sitting on t=
he
ground, and digging and seeking about industriously amongst the crevices
between the boards of the floor, but when it saw the stranger, it disappear=
ed.
He now told what he had seen and described the child exactly, and the mothe=
r recognized
it, and said, "Ah, it is my dear child who died a month ago." They
took up the boards and found two farthings which the child had once received
from its mother that it might give them to a poor man; it, however, had
thought, "Thou canst buy thyself a biscuit for that," and had kept
the farthings, and hidden them in the openings between the boards; and
therefore it had had no rest in its grave, and had come every day at noon to
seek for these farthings. The parents gave the money at once to a poor man,=
and
after that the child was never seen again.
There
was once a young shepherd who wished much to marry, and was acquainted with
three sisters who were all equally pretty, so that it was difficult to him =
to
make a choice, and he could not decide to give the preference to any one of
them. Then he asked his mother for advice, and she said, "Invite all
three, and set some cheese before them, and watch how they eat it." The
youth did so; the first, however, swallowed the cheese with the rind on; the
second hastily cut the rind off the cheese, but she cut it so quickly that =
she
left much good cheese with it, and threw that away also; the third peeled t=
he
rind off carefully, and cut neither too much nor too little. The shepherd t=
old
all this to his mother, who said, "Take the third for thy wife." =
This
he did, and lived contentedly and happily with her.
There
was once on a time a maiden who was pretty, but idle and negligent. When she
had to spin she was so out of temper that if there was a little knot in the
flax, she at once pulled out a whole heap of it, and strewed it about on the
ground beside her. Now she had a servant who was industrious, and gathered
together the bits of flax which were thrown away, cleaned them, span them f=
ine,
and had a beautiful gown made out of them for herself. A young man had wooed
the lazy girl, and the wedding was to take place. On the eve of the wedding,
the industrious one was dancing merrily about in her pretty dress, and the =
bride
said,--
"Ah,
how that girl does jump about, dressed in my odds and ends."
The
bridegroom heard that, and asked the bride what she meant by it? Then she t=
old
him that the girl was wearing a dress make of the flax which she had thrown
away. When the bridegroom heard that, and saw how idle she was, and how
industrious the poor girl was, he gave her up and went to the other, and ch=
ose
her as his wife.
A
sparrow had four young ones in a swallow's nest. When they were fledged, so=
me
naughty boys pulled out the nest, but fortunately all the birds got safely =
away
in the high wind. Then the old bird was grieved that as his sons had all go=
ne
out into the world, he had not first warned them of every kind of danger, a=
nd
given them good instruction how to deal with each. In the autumn a great ma=
ny
sparrows assembled together in a wheatfield, and there the old bird met his
four children again, and full of joy took them home with him. "Ah, my =
dear
sons, what pain I have been in about you all through the summer, because you
got away in the wind without my teaching; listen to my words, obey your fat=
her,
and be well on your guard. Little birds have to encounter great dangers!&qu=
ot;
And then he asked the eldest where he had spent the summer, and how he had =
supported
himself? "I stayed in the gardens, and looked for caterpillars and sma=
ll
worms, until the cherries got ripe." "Ah, my son," said the =
father,
"tit-bits are not bad, but there is great risk about them; on that acc=
ount
take great care of thyself henceforth, and particularly when people are goi=
ng
about the gardens who carry long green poles which are hollow inside and ha=
ve a
little hole at the top." "Yes, father, but what if a little green
leaf is stuck over the hole with wax?" said the son. "Where hast =
thou
seen that?" "In a merchant's garden," said the youngster.
"Oh, my son, merchant folks are quick folks," said the father.
"If thou hast been among the children of the world, thou hast learned
worldly shiftiness enough, only see that thou usest it well, and do not be =
too
confident." After this he asked the next, "Where hast thou passed=
thy
time?" "At court," said the son. "Sparrows and silly li=
ttle
birds are of no use in that place---there one finds much gold, velvet, silk,
armour, harnesses, sparrow-hawks, screech-owls and hen-harriers; keep to the
horses' stable where they winnow oats, or thresh, and then fortune may give
thee thy daily grain of corn in peace." "Yes, father," said =
the
son, "but when the stable-boys make traps and fix their gins and snare=
s in
the straw, many a one is caught fast." "Where hast thou seen that=
?"
said the old bird. "At court, among the stable-boys." "Oh, my
son, court boys are bad boys! If thou hast been to court and among the lord=
s, and
hast left no feathers there, thou hast learnt a fair amount, and wilt know =
very
well how to go about the world, but look around thee and above thee, for the
wolves devour the wisest dogs." The father examined the third also:
"Where didst thou seek thy safety?" "I have broken up tubs a=
nd
ropes on the cart-roads and highways, and sometimes met with a grain of cor=
n or
barley." "That is indeed dainty fare," said the father, &quo=
t;but
take care what thou art about and look carefully around, especially when th=
ou
seest any one stooping and about to pick up a stone, there is not much time=
to
stay then." "That is true," said the son, "but what if =
any
one should carry a bit of rock, or ore, ready beforehand in his breast or
pocket?" "Where hast thou seen that?" "Among the
mountaineers, dear father; when they go out, they generally take little bit=
s of
ore with them." "Mountain folks are working folks, and clever fol=
ks.
If thou hast been among mountain lads, thou hast seen and learnt something,=
but
when thou goest thither beware, for many a sparrow has been brought to a ba=
d end
by a mountain boy." At length the father came to the youngest son: &qu=
ot;Thou,
my dear chirping nestling, wert always the silliest and weakest; stay with =
me,
the world has many rough, wicked birds which have crooked beaks and long cl=
aws,
and lie in wait for poor little birds and swallow them. Keep with those of
thine own kind, and pick up little spiders and caterpillars from the trees,=
or
the house, and then thou wilt live long in peace." "My dear fathe=
r,
he who feeds himself without injury to other people fares well, and no
sparrow-hawk, eagle, or kite will hurt him if he specially commits himself =
and
his lawful food, evening and morning, faithfully to God, who is the Creator=
and
Preserver of all forest and village birds, who likewise heareth the cry and
prayer of the young ravens, for no sparrow or wren ever falls to the ground
except by his will." "Where hast thou learnt this?" The son
answered, "When the great blast of wind tore me away from thee I came =
to a
church, and there during the summer I have picked up the flies and spiders =
from
the windows, and heard this discourse preached. The Father of all sparrows =
fed
me all the summer through, and kept me from all mischance and from ferocious
birds."
"In
sooth, my dear son, if thou takest refuge in the churches and helpest to cl=
ear
away spiders and buzzing flies, and criest unto God like the young ravens, =
and
commendest thyself to the eternal Creator, all will be well with thee, and =
that
even if the whole world were full of wild malicious birds."
"He
who to God commits his ways, In silence suffers, waits, and prays, Preserves
his faith and conscience pure, He is of God's protection sure."
In the
time of Schlauraffen I went there, and saw Rome and the Lateran hanging by a
small silken thread, and a man without feet who outran a swift horse, and a
keen sharp sword that cut through a bridge. There I saw a young ass with a
silver nose which pursued two fleet hares, and a lime-tree that was very la=
rge,
on which hot cakes were growing. There I saw a lean old goat which carried
about a hundred cart-loads of fat on his body, and sixty loads of salt. Hav=
e I
not told enough lies? There I saw a plough ploughing without horse or cow, =
and
a child of one year threw four millstones from Ratisbon to Treves, and from
Treves to Strasburg, and a hawk swam over the Rhine, which he had a perfect
right to do. There I heard some fishes begin to make such a disturbance with
each other, that it resounded as far as heaven, and sweet honey flowed like
water from a deep valley at the top of a high mountain, and these were stra=
nge things.
There were two crows which were mowing a meadow, and I saw two gnats buildi=
ng a
bridge, and two doves tore a wolf to pieces; two children brought forth two
kids, and two frogs threshed corn together. There I saw two mice consecrati=
ng a
bishop, and two cats scratching out a bear's tongue. Then a snail came runn=
ing
up and killed two furious lions. There stood a barber and shaved a woman's =
beard
off; and two sucking-children bade their mother hold her tongue. There I saw
two greyhounds which brought a mill out of the water; and a sorry old horse=
was
beside it, and said it was right. And four horses were standing in the yard
threshing corn with all their might, and two goats were heating the stove, =
and a
red cow shot the bread into the oven. Then a cock crowed, Cock-a- doodle-do=
o!
The story is all told,--Cock-a-doodle-doo!
I will
tell you something. I saw two roasted fowls flying; they flew quickly and h=
ad
their breasts turned to heaven and their backs to hell, and an anvil and a
mill-stone swam across the Rhine prettily, slowly, and gently, and a frog s=
at
on the ice at Whitsuntide and ate a ploughshare. Three fellows who wanted to
catch a hare, went on crutches and stilts; one of them was deaf, the second
blind, the third dumb, and the fourth could not stir a step. Do you want to
know how it was done? First, the blind man saw the hare running across the =
field,
the dumb one called to the lame one, and the lame one seized it by the neck=
.
There
were certain men who wished to sail on dry land, and they set their sails in
the wind, and sailed away over great fields. Then they sailed over a high
mountain, and there they were miserably drowned. A crab was chasing a hare
which was running away at full speed, and high up on the roof lay a cow whi=
ch
had climbed up there. In that country the flies are as big as the goats are
here. Open the window, that the lies may fly out.
Three
women were changed into flowers which grew in the field, but one of them was
allowed to be in her own home at night. Then once when day was drawing near,
and she was forced to go back to her companions in the field and become a
flower again, she said to her husband, "If thou wilt come this afterno=
on
and gather me, I shall be set free and henceforth stay with thee." And=
he
did so. Now the question is, how did her husband know her, for the flowers =
were
exactly alike, and without any difference? Answer: as she was at her home
during the night and not in the field, no dew fell on her as it did on the
others, and by this her husband knew her.
There
was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of the cottage
was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which bore white and the
other red roses. She had two children who were like the two rose-trees, and=
one
was called Snow-white, and the other Rose-red. They were as good and happy,=
as
busy and cheerful as ever two children in the world were, only Snow-white w=
as
more quiet and gentle than Rose- red. Rose-red liked better to run about in=
the
meadows and fields seeking flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-white=
sat
at home with her mother, and helped her with her house-work, or read to her
when there was nothing to do.
The
two children were so fond of each another that they always held each other =
by
the hand when they went out together, and when Snow-white said, "We wi=
ll
not leave each other," Rose-red answered, "Never so long as we
live," and their mother would add, "What one has she must share w=
ith the
other."
They
often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries, and no beasts did
them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The little hare would eat=
a
cabbage-leaf out of their hands, the roe grazed by their side, the stag lea=
pt
merrily by them, and the birds sat still upon the boughs, and sang whatever
they knew.
No
mishap overtook them; if they had stayed too late in the forest, and night =
came
on, they laid themselves down near one another upon the moss, and slept unt=
il
morning came, and their mother knew this and had no distress on their accou=
nt.
Once
when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn had roused them, they
saw a beautiful child in a shining white dress sitting near their bed. He g=
ot
up and looked quite kindly at them, but said nothing and went away into the
forest. And when they looked round they found that they had been sleeping q=
uite
close to a precipice, and would certainly have fallen into it in the darkne=
ss
if they had gone only a few paces further. And their mother told them that =
it
must have been the angel who watches over good children.
Snow-white
and Rose-red kept their mother's little cottage so neat that it was a pleas=
ure
to look inside it. In the summer Rose-red took care of the house, and every
morning laid a wreath of flowers by her mother's bed before she awoke, in w=
hich
was a rose from each tree. In the winter Snow-white lit the fire and hung t=
he
kettle on the wrekin. The kettle was of copper and shone like gold, so brig=
htly
was it polished. In the evening, when the snowflakes fell, the mother said,
"Go, Snow-white, and bolt the door," and then they sat round the
hearth, and the mother took her spectacles and read aloud out of a large bo=
ok,
and the two girls listened as they sat and span. And close by them lay a la=
mb
upon the floor, and behind them upon a perch sat a white dove with its head=
hidden
beneath its wings.
One
evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably together, some one knocked at
the door as if he wished to be let in. The mother said, "Quick, Rose-r=
ed,
open the door, it must be a traveller who is seeking shelter." Rose-red
went and pushed back the bolt, thinking that it was a poor man, but it was =
not;
it was a bear that stretched his broad, black head within the door.
Rose-red
screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered, and Snow-wh=
ite
hid herself behind her mother's bed. But the bear began to speak and said,
"Do not be afraid, I will do you no harm! I am half-frozen, and only w=
ant
to warm myself a little beside you."
"Poor
bear," said the mother, "lie down by the fire, only take care tha=
t you
do not burn your coat." Then she cried, "Snow-white, Rose-red, co=
me out,
the bear will do you no harm, he means well." So they both came out, a=
nd
by-and-by the lamb and dove came nearer, and were not afraid of him. The be=
ar
said, "Here, children, knock the snow out of my coat a little;" so
they brought the broom and swept the bear's hide clean; and he stretched
himself by the fire and growled contentedly and comfortably. It was not long
before they grew quite at home, and played tricks with their clumsy guest. =
They
tugged his hair with their hands, put their feet upon his back and rolled h=
im
about, or they took a hazel-switch and beat him, and when he growled they
laughed. But the bear took it all in good part, only when they were too rou=
gh
he called out, "Leave me alive, children,
"Snowy-white, Rosy-red, Will you beat your lover dead?"=
;
When
it was bed-time, and the others went to bed, the mother said to the bear,
"You can lie there by the hearth, and then you will be safe from the c=
old
and the bad weather." As soon as day dawned the two children let him o=
ut,
and he trotted across the snow into the forest.
Henceforth
the bear came every evening at the same time, laid himself down by the hear=
th,
and let the children amuse themselves with him as much as they liked; and t=
hey
got so used to him that the doors were never fastened until their black fri=
end
had arrived.
When
spring had come and all outside was green, the bear said one morning to
Snow-white, "Now I must go away, and cannot come back for the whole su=
mmer."
"Where are you going, then, dear bear?" asked Snow-white. "I=
must
go into the forest and guard my treasures from the wicked dwarfs. In the
winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they are obliged to stay below and
cannot work their way through; but now, when the sun has thawed and warmed =
the
earth, they break through it, and come out to pry and steal; and what once =
gets
into their hands, and in their caves, does not easily see daylight again.&q=
uot;
Snow-white
was quite sorry for his going away, and as she unbolted the door for him, a=
nd
the bear was hurrying out, he caught against the bolt and a piece of his ha=
iry
coat was torn off, and it seemed to Snow-white as if she had seen gold shin=
ing
through it, but she was not sure about it. The bear ran away quickly, and w=
as
soon out of sight behind the trees.
A
short time afterwards the mother sent her children into the forest to get
fire-wood. There they found a big tree which lay felled on the ground, and
close by the trunk something was jumping backwards and forwards in the gras=
s,
but they could not make out what it was. When they came nearer they saw a d=
warf
with an old withered face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The end of the
beard was caught in a crevice of the tree, and the little fellow was jumping
backwards and forwards like a dog tied to a rope, and did not know what to =
do.
He
glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried, "Why do you sta=
nd
there? Can you not come here and help me?" "What are you about th=
ere,
little man?" asked Rose-red. "You stupid, prying goose!"
answered the dwarf; "I was going to split the tree to get a little wood
for cooking. The little bit of food that one of us wants gets burnt up dire=
ctly
with thick logs; we do not swallow so much as you coarse, greedy folk. I had
just driven the wedge safely in, and everything was going as I wished; but =
the
wretched wood was too smooth and suddenly sprang asunder, and the tree clos=
ed
so quickly that I could not pull out my beautiful white beard; so now it is
tight in and I cannot get away, and the silly, sleek, milk-faced things lau=
gh!
Ugh! how odious you are!"
The
children tried very hard, but they could not pull the beard out, it was cau=
ght
too fast. "I will run and fetch some one," said Rose-red. "Y=
ou
senseless goose!" snarled the dwarf; "why should you fetch some o=
ne?
You are already two too many for me; can you not think of something
better?" "Don't be impatient," said Snow-white, "I will=
help
you," and she pulled her scissors out of her pocket, and cut off the e=
nd
of the beard.
As
soon as the dwarf felt himself free he laid hold of a bag which lay amongst=
the
roots of the tree, and which was full of gold, and lifted it up, grumbling =
to
himself, "Uncouth people, to cut off a piece of my fine beard. Bad luc=
k to
you!" and then he swung the bag upon his back, and went off without ev=
en
once looking at the children.
Some
time after that Snow-white and Rose-red went to catch a dish of fish. As th=
ey
came near the brook they saw something like a large grasshopper jumping tow=
ards
the water, as if it were going to leap in. They ran to it and found it was =
the
dwarf. "Where are you going?" said Rose-red; "you surely don=
't
want to go into the water?" "I am not such a fool!" cried the
dwarf; "don't you see that the accursed fish wants to pull me in?"
The little man had been sitting there fishing, and unluckily the wind had
twisted his beard with the fishing-line; just then a big fish bit, and the
feeble creature had not strength to pull it out; the fish kept the upper ha=
nd
and pulled the dwarf towards him. He held on to all the reeds and rushes, b=
ut
it was of little good, he was forced to follow the movements of the fish, a=
nd
was in urgent danger of being dragged into the water.
The
girls came just in time; they held him fast and tried to free his beard from
the line, but all in vain, beard and line were entangled fast together. Not=
hing
was left but to bring out the scissors and cut the beard, whereby a small p=
art
of it was lost. When the dwarf saw that he screamed out, "Is that civi=
l,
you toad-stool, to disfigure one's face? Was it not enough to clip off the =
end
of my beard? Now you have cut off the best part of it. I cannot let myself =
be
seen by my people. I wish you had been made to run the soles off your
shoes!" Then he took out a sack of pearls which lay in the rushes, and
without saying a word more he dragged it away and disappeared behind a ston=
e.
It
happened that soon afterwards the mother sent the two children to the town =
to
buy needles and thread, and laces and ribbons. The road led them across a h=
eath
upon which huge pieces of rock lay strewn here and there. Now they noticed a
large bird hovering in the air, flying slowly round and round above them; it
sank lower and lower, and at last settled near a rock not far off. Directly
afterwards they heard a loud, piteous cry. They ran up and saw with horror =
that
the eagle had seized their old acquaintance the dwarf, and was going to car=
ry
him off.
The
children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the little man, and pull=
ed
against the eagle so long that at last he let his booty go. As soon as the
dwarf had recovered from his first fright he cried with his shrill voice,
"Could you not have done it more carefully! You dragged at my brown co=
at
so that it is all torn and full of holes, you helpless clumsy creatures!&qu=
ot;
Then he took up a sack full of precious stones, and slipped away again under
the rock into his hole. The girls, who by this time were used to his
thanklessness, went on their way and did their business in the town.
As
they crossed the heath again on their way home they surprised the dwarf, who
had emptied out his bag of precious stones in a clean spot, and had not tho=
ught
that anyone would come there so late. The evening sun shone upon the brilli=
ant
stones; they glittered and sparkled with all colors so beautifully that the=
children
stood still and looked at them. "Why do you stand gaping there?"
cried the dwarf, and his ashen-gray face became copper-red with rage. He was
going on with his bad words when a loud growling was heard, and a black bear
came trotting towards them out of the forest. The dwarf sprang up in a frig=
ht,
but he could not get to his cave, for the bear was already close. Then in t=
he dread
of his heart he cried, "Dear Mr. Bear, spare me, I will give you all my
treasures; look, the beautiful jewels lying there! Grant me my life; what do
you want with such a slender little fellow as I? you would not feel me betw=
een
your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls, they are tender morsels for =
you,
fat as young quails; for mercy's sake eat them!" The bear took no heed=
of
his words, but gave the wicked creature a single blow with his paw, and he =
did
not move again.
The
girls had run away, but the bear called to them, "Snow-white and Rose-=
red,
do not be afraid; wait, I will come with you." Then they knew his voice
and waited, and when he came up to them suddenly his bearskin fell off, and=
he
stood there, a handsome man, clothed all in gold. "I am a King's
son," he said, "and I was bewitched by that wicked dwarf, who had
stolen my treasures; I have had to run about the forest as a savage bear un=
til
I was freed by his death. Now he has got his well-deserved punishment."=
;
Snow-white
was married to him, and Rose-red to his brother, and they divided between t=
hem
the great treasure which the dwarf had gathered together in his cave. The o=
ld
mother lived peacefully and happily with her children for many years. She t=
ook
the two rose-trees with her, and they stood before her window, and every ye=
ar
bore the most beautiful roses, white and red.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>162 The Wise Servant<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
How
fortunate is the master, and how well all goes in his house, when he has a =
wise
servant who listens to his orders and does not obey them, but prefers follo=
wing
his own wisdom. A clever John of this kind was once sent out by his master =
to
seek a lost cow. He stayed away a long time, and the master thought,
"Faithful John does not spare any pains over his work!" As, howev=
er,
he did not come back at all, the master was afraid lest some misfortune had
befallen him, and set out himself to look for him. He had to search a long
time, but at last he perceived the boy who was running up and down a large
field. "Now, dear John," said the master when he had got up to hi=
m,
"hast thou found the cow which I sent thee to seek?" "No,
master," he answered, "I have not found the cow, but then I have =
not
looked for it." "Then what hast thou looked for, John?"
"Something better, and that luckily I have found." "What is
that, John?" "Three blackbirds," answered the boy. "And
where are they?" asked the master. "I see one of them, I hear the=
other,
and I am running after the third," answered the wise boy.
Take
example by this, do not trouble yourselves about your masters or their orde=
rs,
but rather do what comes into your head and pleases you, and then you will =
act
just as wisely as prudent John.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>163 The Glass Coffin<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
Let no
one ever say that a poor tailor cannot do great things and win high honors;=
all
that is needed is that he should go to the right smithy, and what is of most
consequence, that he should have good luck. A civil, adroit tailor's appren=
tice
once went out travelling, and came into a great forest, and, as he did not =
know
the way, he lost himself. Night fell, and nothing was left for him to do, b=
ut
to seek a bed in this painful solitude. He might certainly have found a good
bed on the soft moss, but the fear of wild beasts let him have no rest ther=
e,
and at last he was forced to make up his mind to spend the night in a tree.=
He
sought out a high oak, climbed up to the top of it, and thanked God that he=
had
his goose with him, for otherwise the wind which blew over the top of the t=
ree
would have carried him away.
After he had spent some hours in the darkness, not without fear and trembling, he= saw at a very short distance the glimmer of a light, and as he thought that a h= uman habitation might be there, where he would be better off than on the branche= s of a tree, he got carefully down and went towards the light. It guided him to a small hut that was woven together of reeds and rushes. He knocked boldly, t= he door opened, and by the light which came forth he saw a little hoary old man who wore a coat made of bits of colored stuff sewn together. "Who are = you, and what do you want?" asked the man in a grumbling voice. "I am a poor tailor," he answered, "whom night has surprised here in the wilderness, and I earnestly beg you to take me into your hut until morning." "Go your way," replied the old man in a surly voic= e, "I will have nothing to do with runagates; seek for yourself a shelter elsewhere." After these words he was about to slip into his hut again,= but the tailor held him so tightly by the corner of his coat, and pleaded so piteously, that the old man, who was not so ill-natured as he wished to app= ear, was at last softened, and took him into the hut with him where he gave him something to eat, and then pointed out to him a very good bed in a corner.<= o:p>
The
weary tailor needed no rocking; but slept sweetly till morning, but even th=
en
would not have thought of getting up, if he had not been aroused by a great
noise. A violent sound of screaming and roaring forced its way through the =
thin
walls of the hut. The tailor, full of unwonted courage, jumped up, put his
clothes on in haste, and hurried out. Then close by the hut, he saw a great
black bull and a beautiful stag, which were just preparing for a violent
struggle. They rushed at each other with such extreme rage that the ground
shook with their trampling, and the air resounded with their cries. For a l=
ong
time it was uncertain which of the two would gain the victory; at length the
stag thrust his horns into his adversary's body, whereupon the bull fell to=
the
earth with a terrific roar, and was thoroughly despatched by a few strokes =
from
the stag.
The
tailor, who had watched the fight with astonishment, was still standing the=
re
motionless, when the stag in full career bounded up to him, and before he c=
ould
escape, caught him up on his great horns. He had not much time to collect h=
is
thoughts, for it went in a swift race over stock and stone, mountain and
valley, wood and meadow. He held with both hands to the tops of the horns, =
and
resigned himself to his fate. It seemed, however, to him just as if he were
flying away. At length the stag stopped in front of a wall of rock, and gen=
tly
let the tailor down. The tailor, more dead than alive, required a longer ti=
me than
that to come to himself. When he had in some degree recovered, the stag, wh=
ich
had remained standing by him, pushed its horns with such force against a do=
or
which was in the rock, that it sprang open. Flames of fire shot forth, after
which followed a great smoke, which hid the stag from his sight. The tailor=
did
not know what to do, or whither to turn, in order to get out of this desert=
and
back to human beings again. Whilst he was standing thus undecided, a voice
sounded out of the rock, which cried to him, "Enter without fear, no e=
vil
shall befall you thee." He hesitated, but driven by a mysterious force=
, he
obeyed the voice and went through the iron-door into a large spacious hall,
whose ceiling, walls and floor were made of shining polished square stones,=
on
each of which were cut letters which were unknown to him. He looked at ever=
ything
full of admiration, and was on the point of going out again, when he once m=
ore
heard the voice which said to him, "Step on the stone which lies in the
middle of the hall, and great good fortune awaits thee."
His
courage had already grown so great that he obeyed the order. The stone bega=
n to
give way under his feet, and sank slowly down into the depths. When it was =
once
more firm, and the tailor looked round, he found himself in a hall which in
size resembled the former. Here, however, there was more to look at and to
admire. Hollow places were cut in the walls, in which stood vases of
transparent glass which were filled with colored spirit or with a bluish
vapour. On the floor of the hall two great glass chests stood opposite to e=
ach
other, which at once excited his curiosity. When he went to one of them he =
saw
inside it a handsome structure like a castle surrounded by farm-buildings,
stables and barns, and a quantity of other good things. Everything was smal=
l, but
exceedingly carefully and delicately made, and seemed to be cut out by a
dexterous hand with the greatest exactitude.
He
might not have turned away his eyes from the consideration of this rarity f=
or
some time, if the voice had not once more made itself heard. It ordered him=
to
turn round and look at the glass chest which was standing opposite. How his
admiration increased when he saw therein a maiden of the greatest beauty! S=
he
lay as if asleep, and was wrapped in her long fair hair as in a precious
mantle. Her eyes were closely shut, but the brightness of her complexion an=
d a
ribbon which her breathing moved to and fro, left no doubt that she was ali=
ve.
The tailor was looking at the beauty with beating heart, when she suddenly
opened her eyes, and started up at the sight of him in joyful terror.
"Just Heaven!" cried she, "my deliverance is at hand! Quick,
quick, help me out of my prison; if thou pushest back the bolt of this glass
coffin, then I shall be free." The tailor obeyed without delay, and she
immediately raised up the glass lid, came out and hastened into the corner =
of
the hall, where she covered herself with a large cloak. Then she seated her=
self
on a stone, ordered the young man to come to her, and after she had imprint=
ed a
friendly kiss on his lips, she said, "My long-desired deliverer, kind =
Heaven
has guided thee to me, and put an end to my sorrows. On the self- same day =
when
they end, shall thy happiness begin. Thou art the husband chosen for me by
Heaven, and shalt pass thy life in unbroken joy, loved by me, and rich to
overflowing in every earthly possession. Seat thyself, and listen to the st=
ory
of my life:
"I
am the daughter of a rich count. My parents died when I was still in my ten=
der
youth, and recommended me in their last will to my elder brother, by whom I=
was
brought up. We loved each other so tenderly, and were so alike in our way of
thinking and our inclinations, that we both embraced the resolution never to
marry, but to stay together to the end of our lives. In our house there was=
no
lack of company; neighbors and friends visited us often, and we showed the
greatest hospitality to every one. So it came to pass one evening that a
stranger came riding to our castle, and, under pretext of not being able to=
get
on to the next place, begged for shelter for the night. We granted his requ=
est
with ready courtesy, and he entertained us in the most agreeable manner dur=
ing
supper by conversation intermingled with stories. My brother liked the stra=
nger
so much that he begged him to spend a couple of days with us, to which, aft=
er
some hesitation, he consented. We did not rise from table until late in the
night, the stranger was shown to room, and I hastened, as I was tired, to l=
ay
my limbs in my soft bed. Hardly had I slept for a short time, when the soun=
d of
faint and delightful music awoke me. As I could not conceive from whence it
came, I wanted to summon my waiting-maid who slept in the next room, but to=
my
astonishment I found that speech was taken away from me by an unknown force=
. I
felt as if a mountain were weighing down my breast, and was unable to make =
the very
slightest sound. In the meantime, by the light of my night-lamp, I saw the
stranger enter my room through two doors which were fast bolted. He came to=
me
and said, that by magic arts which were at his command, he had caused the
lovely music to sound in order to awaken me, and that he now forced his way
through all fastenings with the intention of offering me his hand and heart=
. My
repugnance to his magic arts was, however, so great, that I vouchsafed him =
no
answer. He remained for a time standing without moving, apparently with the
idea of waiting for a favorable decision, but as I continued to keep silenc=
e,
he angrily declared he would revenge himself and find means to punish my pr=
ide,
and left the room. I passed the night in the greatest disquietude, and only
fell asleep towards morning. When I awoke, I hurried to my brother, but did=
not
find him in his room, and the attendants told me that he had ridden forth w=
ith
the stranger to the chase by daybreak.
"I
at once suspected nothing good. I dressed myself quickly, ordered my palfre=
y to
be saddled, and accompanied only by one servant, rode full gallop to the fo=
rest.
The servant fell with his horse, and could not follow me, for the horse had
broken its foot. I pursued my way without halting, and in a few minutes I s=
aw
the stranger coming towards me with a beautiful stag which he led by a cord=
. I
asked him where he had left my brother, and how he had come by this stag, o=
ut
of whose great eyes I saw tears flowing. Instead of answering me, he began =
to
laugh loudly. I fell into a great rage at this, pulled out a pistol and
discharged it at the monster; but the ball rebounded from his breast and we=
nt
into my horse's head. I fell to the ground, and the stranger muttered some =
words
which deprived me of consciousness.
"When
I came to my senses again I found myself in this underground cave in a glass
coffin. The magician appeared once again, and said he had changed my brother
into a stag, my castle with all that belonged to it, diminished in size by =
his
arts, he had shut up in the other glass chest, and my people, who were all
turned into smoke, he had confined in glass bottles. He told me that if I w=
ould
now comply with his wish, it was an easy thing for him to put everything ba=
ck
in its former state, as he had nothing to do but open the vessels, and
everything would return once more to its natural form. I answered him as li=
ttle
as I had done the first time. He vanished and left me in my prison, in whic=
h a
deep sleep came on me. Amongst the visions which passed before my eyes, that
was the most comforting in which a young man came and set me free, and when=
I
opened my eyes to-day I saw thee, and beheld my dream fulfilled. Help me to
accomplish the other things which happened in those visions. The first is t=
hat
we lift the glass chest in which my castle is enclosed, on to that broad
stone."
As
soon as the stone was laden, it began to rise up on high with the maiden and
the young man, and mounted through the opening of the ceiling into the upper
hall, from whence they then could easily reach the open air. Here the maiden
opened the lid, and it was marvellous to behold how the castle, the houses,=
and
the farm buildings which were enclosed, stretched themselves out and grew to
their natural size with the greatest rapidity. After this, the maiden and t=
he
tailor returned to the cave beneath the earth, and had the vessels which we=
re
filled with smoke carried up by the stone. The maiden had scarcely opened t=
he
bottles when the blue smoke rushed out and changed itself into living men, =
in whom
she recognized her servants and her people. Her joy was still more increased
when her brother, who had killed the magician in the form of the bull, came=
out
of the forest towards them in his human form, and on the self-same day the
maiden, in accordance with her promise, gave her hand at the altar to the l=
ucky
tailor.
Harry
was lazy, and although he had nothing else to do but drive his goat daily to
pasture, he nevertheless groaned when he went home after his day's work was
done. "It is indeed a heavy burden," said he, "and a weariso=
me
employment to drive a goat into the field this way year after year, till la=
te
into the autumn! If one could but lie down and sleep, but no, one must have
one's eyes open lest it hurts the young trees, or squeezes itself through t=
he
hedge into a garden, or runs away altogether. How can one have any rest, or
peace of one's life?" He seated himself, collected his thoughts, and
considered how he could set his shoulders free from this burden. For a long
time all thinking was to no purpose, but suddenly it was as if scales fell =
from
his eyes. "I know what I will do," he cried, "I will marry f=
at
Trina who has also a goat, and can take mine out with hers, and then I shall
have no more need to trouble myself."
So
Harry got up, set his weary legs in motion, and went right across the stree=
t,
for it was no farther, to where the parents of fat Trina lived, and asked f=
or
their industrious and virtuous daughter in marriage. The parents did not
reflect long. "Birds of a feather, flock together," they thought,=
and
consented.
So fat
Trina became Harry's wife, and led out both the goats. Harry had a good tim=
e of
it, and had no work that he required to rest from but his own idleness. He =
only
went out with her now and then, and said, "I merely do it that I may
afterwards enjoy rest more, otherwise one loses all feeling for it."
But
fat Trina was no less idle. "Dear Harry," said she one day, "=
;why
should we make our lives so toilsome when there is no need for it, and thus
ruin the best days of our youth? Would it not be better for us to give the =
two
goats which disturb us every morning in our sweetest sleep with their bleat=
ing,
to our neighbor, and he will give us a beehive for them. We will put the
beehive in a sunny place behind the house, and trouble ourselves no more ab=
out
it. Bees do not require to be taken care of, or driven into the field; they=
fly
out and find the way home again for themselves, and collect honey without
giving the very least trouble." "Thou hast spoken like a sensible
woman," replied Harry. "We will carry out thy proposal without de=
lay,
and besides all that, honey tastes better and nourishes one better than goa=
t's
milk, and it can be kept longer too."
The
neighbor willingly gave a beehive for the two goats. The bees flew in and o=
ut
from early morning till late evening without ever tiring, and filled the hi=
ve
with the most beautiful honey, so that in autumn Harry was able to take a w=
hole
pitcherful out of it.
They placed the jug on a board which was fixed to the wall of their bed-room, an= d as they were afraid that it might be stolen from them, or that the mice might = find it, Trina brought in a stout hazel-stick and put it beside her bed, so that without unnecessary getting up she might reach it with her hand, and drive = away the uninvited guests. Lazy Harry did not like to leave his bed before noon. "He who rises early," said he, "wastes his substance."<= o:p>
One
morning when he was still lying amongst the feathers in broad daylight, res=
ting
after his long sleep, he said to his wife, "Women are fond of sweet
things, and thou art always tasting the honey in private; it will be better=
for
us to exchange it for a goose with a young gosling, before thou eatest up t=
he
whole of it." "But," answered Trina, "not before we hav=
e a
child to take care of them! Am I to worry myself with the little geese, and
spend all my strength on them to no purpose." "Dost thou think,&q=
uot;
said Harry, "that the youngster will look after geese? Now-a-days chil=
dren
no longer obey, they do according to their own fancy, because they consider
themselves cleverer than their parents, just like that lad who was sent to =
seek
the cow and chased three blackbirds." "Oh," replied Trina,
"this one shall fare badly if he does not do what I say! I will take a
stick and belabour his skin for him with more blows than I can count. Look,
Harry," cried she in her zeal, and seized the stick which she had to d=
rive
the mice away with, "Look, this is the way I will fall on him!" S=
he
reached her arm out to strike, but unhappily hit the honey-pitcher above the
bed. The pitcher struck against the wall and fell down in fragments, and the
fine honey streamed down on the ground. "There lie the goose and the y=
oung
gosling," said Harry, "and want no looking after. But it is lucky
that the pitcher did not fall on my head. We have all reason to be satisfied
with our lot." And then as he saw that there was still some honey in o=
ne
of the fragments he stretched out his hand for it, and said quite gaily, &q=
uot;The
remains, my wife, we will still eat with a relish, and we will rest a little
after the fright we have had. What matters if we do get up a little later t=
he
day is always long enough." "Yes," answered Trina, "we =
shall
always get to the end of it at the proper time. Dost thou know that the sna=
il
was once asked to a wedding and set out to go, but arrived at the christeni=
ng.
In front of the house it fell over the fence, and said, 'Speed does no
good.'"
There
was once upon a time a King, but where he reigned and what he was called, I=
do
not know. He had no son, but an only daughter who had always been ill, and =
no
doctor had been able to cure her. Then it was foretold to the King that his
daughter should eat herself well with an apple. So he ordered it to be
proclaimed throughout the whole of his kingdom, that whosoever brought his
daughter an apple with which she could eat herself well, should have her to
wife, and be King. This became known to a peasant who had three sons, and he
said to the eldest, "Go out into the garden and take a basketful of th=
ose
beautiful apples with the red cheeks and carry them to the court; perhaps t=
he
King's daughter will be able to eat herself well with them, and then thou w=
ilt
marry her and be King." The lad did so, and set out.
When
he had gone a short way he met a little iron man who asked him what he had
there in the basket, to which replied Uele, for so was he named, "Frog=
s'
legs." On this the little man said, "Well, so shall it be, and
remain," and went away. At length Uele arrived at the palace, and made=
it
known that he had brought apples which would cure the King's daughter if she
ate them. This delighted the King hugely, and he caused Uele to be brought
before him; but, alas! when he opened the basket, instead of having apples =
in
it he had frogs' legs which were still kicking about. On this the King grew
angry, and had him driven out of the house. When he got home he told his fa=
ther
how it had fared with him. Then the father sent the next son, who was called
Seame, but all went with him just as it had gone with Uele. He also met the
little iron man, who asked what he had there in the basket. Seame said,
"Hogs' bristles," and the iron man said, "well, so shall it =
be,
and remain." When Seame got to the King's palace and said he brought
apples with which the King's daughter might eat herself well, they did not =
want
to let him go in, and said that one fellow had already been there, and had
treated them as if they were fools. Seame, however, maintained that he
certainly had the apples, and that they ought to let him go in. At length t=
hey believed
him, and led him to the King. But when he uncovered the basket, he had but
hogs' bristles. This enraged the King most terribly, so he caused Seame to =
be
whipped out of the house. When he got home he related all that had befallen
him, then the youngest boy, whose name was Hans, but who was always called =
Stupid
Hans, came and asked his father if he might go with some apples.
"Oh!" said the father, "thou wouldst be just the right fellow
for such a thing! If the clever ones can't manage it, what canst thou do?&q=
uot;
The boy, however, did not believe him, and said, "Indeed, father, I wi=
sh
to go." "Just get away, thou stupid fellow, thou must wait till t=
hou
art wiser," said the father to that, and turned his back. Hans, howeve=
r,
pulled at the back of his smock-frock and said, "Indeed, father, I wis=
h to
go." "Well, then, so far as I am concerned thou mayst go, but thou
wilt soon come home again!" replied the old man in a spiteful voice. T=
he
boy, however, was tremendously delighted and jumped for joy. "Well, act
like a fool! thou growest more stupid every day!" said the father agai=
n.
Hans, however, did not care about that, and did not let it spoil his pleasu=
re,
but as it was then night, he thought he might as well wait until the morrow,
for he could not get to court that day. All night long he could not sleep in
his bed, and if he did doze for a moment, he dreamt of beautiful maidens, of
palaces, of gold, and of silver, and all kinds of things of that sort. Earl=
y in
the morning, he went forth on his way, and directly afterwards the little
shabby-looking man in his iron clothes, came to him and asked what he was
carrying in the basket. Hans gave him the answer that he was carrying apples
with which the King's daughter was to eat herself well. "Then," s=
aid
the little man, "so shall they be, and remain." But at the court =
they
would none of them let Hans go in, for they said two had already been there=
who
had told them that they were bringing apples, and one of them had frogs' le=
gs,
and the other hogs' bristles. Hans, however, resolutely maintained that he =
most
certainly had no frogs' legs, but some of the most beautiful apples in the
whole kingdom. As he spoke so pleasantly, the door-keeper thought he could =
not
be telling a lie, and asked him to go in, and he was right, for when Hans
uncovered his basket in the King's presence, golden-yellow apples came tumb=
ling
out. The King was delighted, and caused some of them to be taken to his dau=
ghter,
and then waited in anxious expectation until news should be brought to him =
of
the effect they had. But before much time had passed by, news was brought to
him: but who do you think it was who came? it was his daughter herself! As =
soon
as she had eaten of those apples, she was cured, and sprang out of her bed.=
The
joy the King felt cannot be described! but now he did not want to give his
daughter in marriage to Hans, and said he must first make him a boat which
would go quicker on dry land than on water. Hans agreed to the conditions, =
and
went home, and related how it had fared with him. Then the father sent Uele
into the forest to make a boat of that kind. He worked diligently, and whis=
tled
all the time. At mid-day, when the sun was at the highest, came the little =
iron
man and asked what he was making? Uele gave him for answer, "Wooden bo=
wls
for the kitchen." The iron man said, "So it shall be, and
remain." By evening Uele thought he had now made the boat, but when he
wanted to get into it, he had nothing but wooden bowls. The next day Seame =
went
into the forest, but everything went with him just as it had done with Uele=
. On
the third day Stupid Hans went. He worked away most industriously, so that =
the
whole forest resounded with the heavy strokes, and all the while he sang and
whistled right merrily. At mid-day, when it was the hottest, the little man
came again, and asked what he was making? "A boat which will go quicke=
r on
dry land than on the water," replied Hans, "and when I have finis=
hed
it, I am to have the King's daughter for my wife." "Well," s=
aid
the little man, "such an one shall it be, and remain." In the
evening, when the sun had turned into gold, Hans finished his boat, and all
that was wanted for it. He got into it and rowed to the palace. The boat we=
nt
as swiftly as the wind. The King saw it from afar, but would not give his
daughter to Hans yet, and said he must first take a hundred hares out to
pasture from early morning until late evening, and if one of them got away,=
he
should not have his daughter. Hans was contented with this, and the next day
went with his flock to the pasture, and took great care that none of them r=
an
away.
Before
many hours had passed came a servant from the palace, and told Hans that he
must give her a hare instantly, for some visitors had come unexpectedly. Ha=
ns,
however, was very well aware what that meant, and said he would not give her
one; the King might set some hare soup before his guest next day. The maid,
however, would not believe in his refusal, and at last she began to get ang=
ry
with him. Then Hans said that if the King's daughter came herself, he would
give her a hare. The maid told this in the palace, and the daughter did go
herself. In the meantime, however, the little man came again to Hans, and a=
sked
him what he was doing there? He said he had to watch over a hundred hares a=
nd
see that none of them ran away, and then he might marry the King's daughter=
and
be King. "Good," said the little man, "there is a whistle for
thee, and if one of them runs away, just whistle with it, and then it will =
come
back again." When the King's daughter came, Hans gave her a hare into =
her
apron; but when she had gone about a hundred steps with it, he whistled, and
the hare jumped out of the apron, and before she could turn round was back =
to
the flock again. When the evening came the hare-herd whistled once more, and
looked to see if all were there, and then drove them to the palace. The King
wondered how Hans had been able to take a hundred hares to graze without lo=
sing
any of them; he would, however, not give him his daughter yet, and said he =
must
now bring him a feather from the Griffin's tail. Hans set out at once, and
walked straight forwards. In the evening he came to a castle, and there he
asked for a night's lodging, for at that time there were no inns. The lord =
of
the castle promised him that with much pleasure, and asked where he was goi=
ng?
Hans answered, "To the Griffin." "Oh! to the Griffin! They t=
ell
me he knows everything, and I have lost the key of an iron money-chest; so =
you
might be so good as to ask him where it is." "Yes, indeed," =
said
Hans, "I will do that." Early the next morning he went onwards, a=
nd on
his way arrived at another castle in which he again stayed the night. When =
the
people who lived there learnt that he was going to the Griffin, they said t=
hey
had in the house a daughter who was ill, and that they had already tried ev=
ery
means to cure her, but none of them had done her any good, and he might be =
so
kind as to ask the Griffin what would make their daughter healthy again? Ha=
ns
said he would willingly do that, and went onwards. Then he came to a lake, =
and
instead of a ferry-boat, a tall, tall man was there who had to carry everyb=
ody
across. The man asked Hans whither he was journeying? "To the
Griffin," said Hans. "Then when you get to him," said the ma=
n, "just
ask him why I am forced to carry everybody over the lake." "Yes, =
indeed,
most certainly I'll do that," said Hans. Then the man took him up on h=
is
shoulders, and carried him across. At length Hans arrived at the Griffin's
house, but the wife only was at home, and not the Griffin himself. Then the
woman asked him what he wanted? Thereupon he told her everything;--that he =
had
to get a feather out of the Griffin's tail, and that there was a castle whe=
re
they had lost the key of their money-chest, and he was to ask the Griffin w=
here
it was?--that in another castle the daughter was ill, and he was to learn w=
hat
would cure her?--and then not far from thence there was a lake and a man be=
side
it, who was forced to carry people across it, and he was very anxious to le=
arn
why the man was obliged to do it. Then said the woman, "But look here,=
my
good friend, no Christian can speak to the Griffin; he devours them all; bu=
t if
you like, you can lie down under his bed, and in the night, when he is quite
fast asleep, you can reach out and pull a feather out of his tail, and as f=
or
those things which you are to learn, I will ask about them myself." Ha=
ns
was quite satisfied with this, and got under the bed. In the evening, the
Griffin came home, and as soon as he entered the room, said, "Wife, I
smell a Christian." "Yes," said the woman, "one was her=
e to-day,
but he went away again;" and on that the Griffin said no more.
In the
middle of the night when the Griffin was snoring loudly, Hans reached out a=
nd
plucked a feather from his tail. The Griffin woke up instantly, and said,
"Wife, I smell a Christian, and it seems to me that somebody was pulli=
ng
at my tail." His wife said, "Thou hast certainly been dreaming, a=
nd I
told thee before that a Christian was here to-day, but that he went away ag=
ain.
He told me all kinds of things that in one castle they had lost the key of
their money-chest, and could find it nowhere." "Oh! the fools!&qu=
ot;
said the Griffin; "the key lies in the wood- house under a log of wood
behind the door." "And then he said that in another castle the
daughter was ill, and they knew no remedy that would cure her." "=
Oh!
the fools!" said the Griffin; "under the cellar-steps a toad has =
made
its nest of her hair, and if she got her hair back she would be well."
"And then he also said that there was a place where there was a lake a=
nd a
man beside it who was forced to carry everybody across." "Oh, the
fool!" said the Griffin; "if he only put one man down in the midd=
le, he
would never have to carry another across." Early the next morning the =
Griffin
got up and went out. Then Hans came forth from under the bed, and he had a
beautiful feather, and had heard what the Griffin had said about the key, a=
nd
the daughter, and the ferry-man. The Griffin's wife repeated it all once mo=
re
to him that he might not forget it, and then he went home again. First he c=
ame
to the man by the lake, who asked him what the Griffin had said, but Hans
replied that he must first carry him across, and then he would tell him. So=
the
man carried him across, and when he was over Hans told him that all he had =
to
do was to set one person down in the middle of the lake, and then he would
never have to carry over any more. The man was hugely delighted, and told H=
ans
that out of gratitude he would take him once more across, and back again. B=
ut
Hans said no, he would save him the trouble, he was quite satisfied already,
and pursued his way. Then he came to the castle where the daughter was ill;=
he
took her on his shoulders, for she could not walk, and carried her down the=
cellar-steps
and pulled out the toad's nest from beneath the lowest step and gave it into
her hand, and she sprang off his shoulder and up the steps before him, and =
was
quite cured. Then were the father and mother beyond measure rejoiced, and t=
hey
gave Hans gifts of gold and of silver, and whatsoever else he wished for, t=
hat
they gave him. And when he got to the other castle he went at once into the
wood-house, and found the key under the log of wood behind the door, and to=
ok
it to the lord of the castle. He also was not a little pleased, and gave Ha=
ns
as a reward much of the gold that was in the chest, and all kinds of things
besides, such as cows, and sheep, and goats. When Hans arrived before the K=
ing,
with all these things--with the money, and the gold, and the silver and the
cows, sheep and goats, the King asked him how he had come by them. Then Hans
told him that the Griffin gave every one whatsoever he wanted. So the King
thought he himself could make such things useful, and set out on his way to=
the
Griffin; but when he got to the lake, it happened that he was the very firs=
t who
arrived there after Hans, and the man put him down in the middle of it and =
went
away, and the King was drowned. Hans, however, married the daughter, and be=
came
King.
There
were once a man and a woman who had an only child, and lived quite alone in=
a
solitary valley. It came to pass that the mother once went into the wood to
gather branches of fir, and took with her little Hans, who was just two yea=
rs
old. As it was spring-time, and the child took pleasure in the many-coloured
flowers, she went still further onwards with him into the forest. Suddenly =
two
robbers sprang out of the thicket, seized the mother and child, and carried
them far away into the black forest, where no one ever came from one year's=
end
to another. The poor woman urgently begged the robbers to set her and her c=
hild
free, but their hearts were made of stone, they would not listen to her pra=
yers
and entreaties, and drove her on farther by force. After they had worked th=
eir
way through bushes and briars for about two miles, they came to a rock where
there was a door, at which the robbers knocked and it opened at once. They =
had
to go through a long dark passage, and at last came into a great cavern, wh=
ich
was lighted by a fire which burnt on the hearth. On the wall hung swords,
sabres, and other deadly weapons which gleamed in the light, and in the mid=
st
stood a black table at which four other robbers were sitting gambling, and =
the
captain sat at the head of it. As soon as he saw the woman he came and spok=
e to
her, and told her to be at ease and have no fear, they would do nothing to =
hurt
her, but she must look after the house-keeping, and if she kept everything =
in
order, she should not fare ill with them. Thereupon they gave her something=
to eat,
and showed her a bed where she might sleep with her child.
The
woman stayed many years with the robbers, and Hans grew tall and strong. His
mother told him stories, and taught him to read an old book of tales about
knights which she found in the cave. When Hans was nine years old, he made
himself a strong club out of a branch of fir, hid it behind the bed, and th=
en
went to his mother and said, "Dear mother, pray tell me who is my fath=
er;
I must and will know." His mother was silent and would not tell him, t=
hat
he might not become home-sick; moreover she knew that the godless robbers w=
ould
not let him go away, but it almost broke her heart that Hans should not go =
to
his father. In the night, when the robbers came home from their robbing
expedition, Hans brought out his club, stood before the captain, and said,
"I now wish to know who is my father, and if thou dost not at once tel=
l me
I will strike thee down." Then the captain laughed, and gave Hans such=
a box
on the ear that he rolled under the table. Hans got up again, held his tong=
ue,
and thought, "I will wait another year and then try again, perhaps I s=
hall
do better then." When the year was over, he brought out his club again,
rubbed the dust off it, looked at it well, and said, "It is a stout st=
rong
club." At night the robbers came home, drank one jug of wine after
another, and their heads began to be heavy. Then Hans brought out his club,
placed himself before the captain, and asked him who was his father? But the
captain again gave him such a vigorous box on the ear that Hans rolled under
the table, but it was not long before he was up again, and beat the captain=
and
the robbers so with his club, that they could no longer move either their a=
rms
or their legs. His mother stood in a corner full of admiration of his brave=
ry
and strength. When Hans had done his work, he went to his mother, and said,=
"Now
I have shown myself to be in earnest, but now I must also know who is my
father." "Dear Hans," answered the mother, "come, we wi=
ll
go and seek him until we find him." She took from the captain the key =
to
the entrance-door, and Hans fetched a great meal-sack and packed into it go=
ld
and silver, and whatsoever else he could find that was beautiful, until it =
was
full, and then he took it on his back. They left the cave, but how Hans did
open his eyes when he came out of the darkness into daylight, and saw the g=
reen
forest, and the flowers, and the birds, and the morning sun in the sky. He
stood there and wondered at everything just as if he had not been very wise.
His mother looked for the way home, and when they had walked for a couple of
hours, they got safely into their lonely valley and to their little house. =
The
father was sitting in the doorway. He wept for joy when he recognized his w=
ife
and heard that Hans was his son, for he had long regarded them both as dead.
But Hans, although he was not twelve years old, was a head taller than his =
father.
They went into the little room together, but Hans had scarcely put his sack=
on
the bench by the stove, than the whole house began to crack the bench broke
down and then the floor, and the heavy sack fell through into the cellar.
"God save us!" cried the father, "what's that? Now thou hast
broken our little house to pieces!" "Don't grow any grey hairs ab=
out that,
dear father," answered Hans; "there, in that sack, is more than i=
s wanting
for a new house." The father and Hans at once began to build a new hou=
se;
to buy cattle and land, and to keep a farm. Hans ploughed the fields, and w=
hen
he followed the plough and pushed it into the ground, the bullocks had scar=
cely
any need to draw. The next spring, Hans said, "Keep all the money and =
get
a walking-stick that weighs a hundred-weight made for me that I may go
a-travelling." When the wished-for stick was ready, he left his father=
's
house, went forth, and came to a deep, dark forest. There he heard something
crunching and cracking, looked round, and saw a fir-tree which was wound ro=
und
like a rope from the bottom to the top, and when he looked upwards he saw a
great fellow who had laid hold of the tree and was twisting it like a
willow-wand. "Hollo!" cried Hans, "what art thou doing up
there?" the fellow replied, "I got some faggots together yesterday
and am twisting a rope for them." "That is what I like," tho=
ught
Hans, "he has some strength," and he called to him, "Leave t=
hat
alone, and come with me." The fellow came down, and he was taller by a
whole head than Hans, and Hans was not little. "Thy name is now
Fir-twister," said Hans to him. Thereupon they went further and heard
something knocking and hammering with such force that the ground shook at e=
very
stroke. Shortly afterwards they came to a mighty rock, before which a giant=
was
standing and striking great pieces of it away with his fist. When Hans asked
what he was about, he answered, "At night, when I want to sleep, bears,
wolves, and other vermin of that kind come, which sniff and snuffle about me
and won't let me rest; so I want to build myself a house and lay myself ins=
ide
it, so that I may have some peace." "Oh, indeed," thought Ha=
ns,
"I can make use of this one also;" and said to him, "Leave t=
hy
house-building alone, and go with me; thou shalt be called Rock-splitter.&q=
uot;
The man consented, and they all three roamed through the forest, and wherev=
er
they went the wild beasts were terrified, and ran away from them. In the
evening they came to an old deserted castle, went up into it, and laid
themselves down in the hall to sleep. The next morning Hans went into the
garden. It had run quite wild, and was full of thorns and bushes. And as he=
was
thus walking round about, a wild boar rushed at him; he, however, gave it s=
uch
a blow with his club that it fell directly. He took it on his shoulders and
carried it in, and they put it on a spit, roasted it, and enjoyed themselve=
s.
Then they arranged that each day, in turn, two should go out hunting, and o=
ne
should stay at home, and cook nine pounds of meat for each of them. Fir-twi=
ster
stayed at home the first, and Hans and Rock-splitter went out hunting. When
Fir-twister was busy cooking, a little shrivelled-up old mannikin came to h=
im
in the castle, and asked for some meat. "Be off, sly hypocrite," =
he
answered, "thou needest no meat." But how astonished Fir-twister =
was
when the little insignificant dwarf sprang up at him, and belaboured him so
with his fists that he could not defend himself, but fell on the ground and=
gasped
for breath! The dwarf did not go away until he had thoroughly vented his an=
ger
on him. When the two others came home from hunting, Fir-twister said nothin=
g to
them of the old mannikin and of the blows which he himself had received, and
thought, "When they stay at home, they may just try their chance with =
the
little scrubbing-brush;" and the mere thought of that gave him pleasure
already.
The
next day Rock-splitter stayed at home, and he fared just as Fir-twister had
done, he was very ill-treated by the dwarf because he was not willing to gi=
ve
him any meat. When the others came home in the evening, Fir-twister easily =
saw
what he had suffered, but both kept silence, and thought, "Hans also m=
ust
taste some of that soup."
Hans,
who had to stay at home the next day, did his work in the kitchen as it had=
to
be done, and as he was standing skimming the pan, the dwarf came and without
more ado demanded a bit of meat. Then Hans thought, "He is a poor wret=
ch,
I will give him some of my share, that the others may not run short," =
and
handed him a bit. When the dwarf had devoured it, he again asked for some m=
eat,
and good-natured Hans gave it to him, and told him it was a handsome piece,=
and
that he was to be content with it. But the dwarf begged again for the third
time. "Thou art shameless!" said Hans, and gave him none. Then the
malicious dwarf wanted to spring on him and treat him as he had treated
Fir-twister and Rock-splitter, but he had got to the wrong man. Hans, witho=
ut
exerting himself much, gave him a couple of blows which made him jump down =
the castle
steps. Hans was about to run after him, but fell right over him, for he was=
so
tall. When he rose up again, the dwarf had got the start of him. Hans hurri=
ed
after him as far as the forest, and saw him slip into a hole in the rock. H=
ans
now went home, but he had marked the spot. When the two others came back, t=
hey
were surprised that Hans was so well. He told them what had happened, and t=
hen
they no longer concealed how it had fared with them. Hans laughed and said,
"It served you quite right; why were you so greedy with your meat? It =
is a
disgrace that you who are so big should have let yourselves be beaten by the
dwarf." Thereupon they took a basket and a rope, and all three went to=
the
hole in the rock into which the dwarf had slipped, and let Hans and his club
down in the basket. When Hans had reached the bottom, he found a door, and =
when
he opened it a maiden was sitting there who was lovely as any picture, nay,=
so
beautiful that no words can express it, and by her side sat the dwarf and
grinned at Hans like a sea-cat! She, however, was bound with chains, and lo=
oked
so mournfully at him that Hans felt great pity for her, and thought to hims=
elf,
"Thou must deliver her out of the power of the wicked dwarf," and
gave him such a blow with his club that he fell down dead. Immediately the
chains fell from the maiden, and Hans was enraptured with her beauty. She t=
old
him she was a King's daughter whom a savage count had stolen away from her
home, and imprisoned there among the rocks, because she would have nothing =
to
say to him. The count had, however, set the dwarf as a watchman, and he had
made her bear misery and vexation enough. And now Hans placed the maiden in=
the
basket and had her drawn up; the basket came down again, but Hans did not t=
rust
his two companions, and thought, "They have already shown themselves t=
o be
false, and told me nothing about the dwarf; who knows what design they may =
have
against me?" So he put his club in the basket, and it was lucky he did=
; for
when the basket was half-way up, they let it fall again, and if Hans had re=
ally
been sitting in it he would have been killed. But now he did not know how he
was to work his way out of the depths, and when he turned it over and over =
in
his mind he found no counsel. "It is indeed sad," said he to hims=
elf,
"that I have to waste away down here," and as he was thus walking
backwards and forwards, he once more came to the little chamber where the m=
aiden
had been sitting, and saw that the dwarf had a ring on his finger which sho=
ne
and sparkled. Then he drew it off and put it on, and when he turned it roun=
d on
his finger, he suddenly heard something rustle over his head. He looked up =
and
saw spirits of the air hovering above, who told him he was their master, and
asked what his desire might be? Hans was at first struck dumb, but afterwar=
ds
he said that they were to carry him above again. They obeyed instantly, and=
it was
just as if he had flown up himself. When, however, he was above again, he f=
ound
no one in sight. Fir-twister and Rock-splitter had hurried away, and had ta=
ken
the beautiful maiden with them. But Hans turned the ring, and the spirits of
the air came and told him that the two were on the sea. Hans ran and ran
without stopping, until he came to the sea-shore, and there far, far out on=
the
water, he perceived a little boat in which his faithless comrades were sitt=
ing;
and in fierce anger he leapt, without thinking what he was doing, club in h=
and
into the water, and began to swim, but the club, which weighed a hundredwei=
ght,
dragged him deep down until he was all but drowned. Then in the very nick of
time he turned his ring, and immediately the spirits of the air came and bo=
re
him as swift as lightning into the boat. He swung his club and gave his wic=
ked comrades
the reward they merited and threw them into the water, and then he sailed w=
ith
the beautiful maiden, who had been in the greatest alarm, and whom he deliv=
ered
for the second time, home to her father and mother, and married her, and all
rejoiced exceedingly.
Once
on a time a poor pious peasant died, and arrived before the gate of heaven.=
At
the same time a very rich, rich lord came there who also wanted to get into
heaven. Then Saint Peter came with the key, and opened the door, and let the
great man in, but apparently did not see the peasant, and shut the door aga=
in.
And now the peasant outside, heard how the great man was received in heaven
with all kinds of rejoicing, and how they were making music, and singing
within. At length all became quiet again, and Saint Peter came and opened t=
he
gate of heaven, and let the peasant in. The peasant, however, expected that
they would make music and sing when he went in also, but all remained quite
quiet; he was received with great affection, it is true, and the angels cam=
e to
meet him, but no one sang. Then the peasant asked Saint Peter how it was th=
at
they did not sing for him as they had done when the rich man went in, and s=
aid
that it seemed to him that there in heaven things were done with just as mu=
ch partiality
as on earth. Then said Saint Peter, "By no means, thou art just as dea=
r to
us as any one else, and wilt enjoy every heavenly delight that the rich man
enjoys, but poor fellows like thee come to heaven every day, but a rich man
like this does not come more than once in a hundred years!"
Lean
Lisa was of a very different way of thinking from lazy Harry and fat Trina,=
who
never let anything disturb their peace. She scoured everything with ashes, =
from
morning till evening, and burdened her husband, Long Laurence, with so much
work that he had heavier weights to carry than an ass with three sacks. It =
was,
however, all to no purpose, they had nothing and came to nothing. One night=
as
she lay in bed, and could hardly move one limb for weariness, she still did=
not
allow her thoughts to go to sleep. She thrust her elbows into her husband's=
side,
and said, "Listen, Lenz, to what I have been thinking: if I were to fi=
nd
one florin and one was given to me, I would borrow another to put to them, =
and
thou too shouldst give me another, and then as soon as I had got the four
florins together, I would buy a young cow." This pleased the husband r=
ight
well. "It is true," said he, "that I do not know where I am =
to
get the florin which thou wantest as a gift from me; but, if thou canst get=
the
money together, and canst buy a cow with it, thou wilt do well to carry out=
thy
project. I shall be glad," he added, "if the cow has a calf, and =
then
I shall often get a drink of milk to refresh me." "The milk is not
for thee," said the woman, "we must let the calf suck that it may
become big and fat, and we may be able to sell it well."
"Certainly," replied the man, "but still we will take a litt=
le
milk; that will do no harm." "Who has taught thee to manage cows?=
"
said the woman; "Whether it does harm or not, I will not allow it, and
even if thou wert to stand on thy head for it, thou shouldst not have a dro=
p of
the milk! Dost thou think, because there is no satisfying thee, Long Lauren=
ce,
that thou art to eat up what I earn with so much difficulty?"
"Wife," said the man, "be quiet, or I will give thee a blow =
on
thy mouth!" "What!" cried she, "thou threatenest me, th=
ou
glutton, thou rascal, thou lazy Harry!" She was just laying hold of his
hair, but long Laurence got up, seized both Lean Lisa's withered arms in one
hand, and with the other he pressed down her head into the pillow, let her =
scold,
and held her until she fell asleep for very weariness. Whether she continue=
d to
wrangle when she awoke next morning, or whether she went out to look for the
florin which she wanted to find, that I know not.
A poor
wood-cutter lived with his wife and three daughters in a little hut on the =
edge
of a lonely forest. One morning as he was about to go to his work, he said =
to
his wife, "Let my dinner be brought into the forest to me by my eldest
daughter, or I shall never get my work done, and in order that she may not =
miss
her way," he added, "I will take a bag of millet with me and strew
the seeds on the path." When, therefore, the sun was just above the ce=
nter
of the forest, the girl set out on her way with a bowl of soup, but the
field-sparrows, and wood-sparrows, larks and finches, blackbirds and siskins
had picked up the millet long before, and the girl could not find the track.
Then trusting to chance, she went on and on, until the sun sank and night b=
egan
to fall. The trees rustled in the darkness, the owls hooted, and she began =
to
be afraid. Then in the distance she perceived a light which glimmered betwe=
en
the trees. "There ought to be some people living there, who can take m=
e in
for the night," thought she, and went up to the light. It was not long
before she came to a house the windows of which were all lighted up. She
knocked, and a rough voice from inside cried, "Come in." The girl
stepped into the dark entrance, and knocked at the door of the room. "=
Just
come in," cried the voice, and when she opened the door, an old
gray-haired man was sitting at the table, supporting his face with both han=
ds,
and his white beard fell down over the table almost as far as the ground. By
the stove lay three animals, a hen, a cock, and a brindled cow. The girl to=
ld
her story to the old man, and begged for shelter for the night. The man sai=
d,
"Pretty
little hen, Pretty little cock, And pretty brindled cow, What say ye to
that?"
"Duks,"
answered the animals, and that must have meant, "We are willing,"=
for
the old man said, "Here you shall have shelter and food, go to the fir=
e,
and cook us our supper." The girl found in the kitchen abundance of
everything, and cooked a good supper, but had no thought of the animals. She
carried the full dishes to the table, seated herself by the gray-haired man,
ate and satisfied her hunger. When she had had enough, she said, "But =
now
I am tired, where is there a bed in which I can lie down, and sleep?" =
The
animals replied,
"Thou
hast eaten with him, Thou hast drunk with him, Thou hast had no thought for=
us,
So find out for thyself where thou canst pass the night."
Then
said the old man, "Just go upstairs, and thou wilt find a room with two
beds, shake them up, and put white linen on them, and then I, too, will come
and lie down to sleep." The girl went up, and when she had shaken the =
beds
and put clean sheets on, she lay down in one of them without waiting any lo=
nger
for the old man. After some time, however, the gray-haired man came, took h=
is
candle, looked at the girl and shook his head. When he saw that she had fal=
len
into a sound sleep, he opened a trap-door, and let her down into the cellar=
.
Late
at night the wood-cutter came home, and reproached his wife for leaving him=
to
hunger all day. "It is not my fault," she replied, "the girl
went out with your dinner, and must have lost herself, but she is sure to c=
ome
back to-morrow." The wood-cutter, however, arose before dawn to go into
the forest, and requested that the second daughter should take him his dinn=
er
that day. "I will take a bag with lentils," said he; "the se=
eds
are larger than millet, the girl will see them better, and can't lose her
way." At dinner-time, therefore, the girl took out the food, but the
lentils had disappeared. The birds of the forest had picked them up as they=
had
done the day before, and had left none. The girl wandered about in the fore=
st
until night, and then she too reached the house of the old man, was told to=
go
in, and begged for food and a bed. The man with the white beard again asked=
the
animals,
"Pretty
little hen, Pretty little cock, And pretty brindled cow, What say ye to
that?"
The
animals again replied "Duks," and everything happened just as it =
had
happened the day before. The girl cooked a good meal, ate and drank with the
old man, and did not concern herself about the animals, and when she inquir=
ed
about her bed they answered,
"Thou
hast eaten with him, Thou hast drunk with him, Thou hast had no thought for=
us,
To find out for thyself where thou canst pass the night."
When
she was asleep the old man came, looked at her, shook his head, and let her
down into the cellar.
On the
third morning the wood-cutter said to his wife, "Send our youngest chi=
ld
out with my dinner to-day, she has always been good and obedient, and will =
stay
in the right path, and not run about after every wild humble-bee, as her
sisters did." The mother did not want to do it, and said, "Am I to
lose my dearest child, as well?"
"Have
no fear," he replied, "the girl will not go astray; she is too
prudent and sensible; besides I will take some peas with me, and strew them
about. They are still larger than lentils, and will show her the way."=
But
when the girl went out with her basket on her arm, the wood-pigeons had alr=
eady
got all the peas in their crops, and she did not know which way she was to
turn. She was full of sorrow and never ceased to think how hungry her father
would be, and how her good mother would grieve, if she did not go home. At
length when it grew dark, she saw the light and came to the house in the
forest. She begged quite prettily to be allowed to spend the night there, a=
nd
the man with the white beard once more asked his animals,
"Pretty
little hen, Pretty little cock, And beautiful brindled cow, What say ye to
that?"
"Duks,"
said they. Then the girl went to the stove where the animals were lying, and
petted the cock and hen, and stroked their smooth feathers with her hand, a=
nd
caressed the brindled cow between her horns, and when, in obedience to the =
old
man's orders, she had made ready some good soup, and the bowl was placed up=
on
the table, she said, "Am I to eat as much as I want, and the good anim=
als
to have nothing? Outside is food in plenty, I will look after them first.&q=
uot;
So she went and brought some barley and stewed it for the cock and hen, and=
a
whole armful of sweet-smelling hay for the cow. "I hope you will like =
it,
dear animals," said she, "and you shall have a refreshing draught=
in
case you are thirsty." Then she fetched in a bucketful of water, and t=
he
cock and hen jumped on to the edge of it and dipped their beaks in, and then
held up their heads as the birds do when they drink, and the brindled cow a=
lso
took a hearty draught. When the animals were fed, the girl seated herself at
the table by the old man, and ate what he had left. It was not long before =
the
cock and the hen began to thrust their heads beneath their wings, and the e=
yes
of the cow likewise began to blink. Then said the girl, "Ought we not =
to
go to bed?"
"Pretty
little hen, Pretty little cock, And pretty brindled cow, What say ye to
that?"
The animals
answered "Duks,"
"Thou
hast eaten with us, Thou hast drunk with us, Thou hast had kind thought for=
all
of us, We wish thee good-night."
Then
the maiden went upstairs, shook the feather-beds, and laid clean sheets on
them, and when she had done it the old man came and lay down on one of the
beds, and his white beard reached down to his feet. The girl lay down on the
other, said her prayers, and fell asleep.
She
slept quietly till midnight, and then there was such a noise in the house t=
hat
she awoke. There was a sound of cracking and splitting in every corner, and=
the
doors sprang open, and beat against the walls. The beams groaned as if they
were being torn out of their joints, it seemed as if the staircase were fal=
ling
down, and at length there was a crash as if the entire roof had fallen in. =
As,
however, all grew quiet once more, and the girl was not hurt, she stayed
quietly lying where she was, and fell asleep again. But when she woke up in=
the
morning with the brilliancy of the sunshine, what did her eyes behold? She =
was
lying in a vast hall, and everything around her shone with royal splendor; =
on
the walls, golden flowers grew up on a ground of green silk, the bed was of
ivory, and the canopy of red velvet, and on a chair close by, was a pair of=
shoes
embroidered with pearls. The girl believed that she was in a dream, but thr=
ee
richly clad attendants came in, and asked what orders she would like to giv=
e?
"If you will go," she replied, "I will get up at once and ma=
ke
ready some soup for the old man, and then I will feed the pretty little hen,
and the cock, and the beautiful brindled cow." She thought the old man=
was
up already, and looked round at his bed; he, however, was not lying in it, =
but
a stranger. And while she was looking at him, and becoming aware that he was
young and handsome, he awoke, sat up in bed, and said, "I am a King's =
son,
and was bewitched by a wicked witch, and made to live in this forest, as an=
old
gray-haired man; no one was allowed to be with me but my three attendants i=
n the
form of a cock, a hen, and a brindled cow. The spell was not to be broken u=
ntil
a girl came to us whose heart was so good that she showed herself full of l=
ove,
not only towards mankind, but towards animals -- and that thou hast done, a=
nd
by thee at midnight we were set free, and the old hut in the forest was cha=
nged
back again into my royal palace." And when they had arisen, the King's=
son
ordered the three attendants to set out and fetch the father and mother of =
the
girl to the marriage feast. "But where are my two sisters?" inqui=
red
the maiden. "I have locked them in the cellar, and to-morrow they shal=
l be
led into the forest, and shall live as servants to a charcoal-burner, until
they have grown kinder, and do not leave poor animals to suffer hunger.&quo=
t;
There
was once a tailor, who was a quarrelsome fellow, and his wife, who was good,
industrious, and pious, never could please him. Whatever she did, he was not
satisfied, but grumbled and scolded, and knocked her about and beat her. As=
the
authorities at last heard of it, they had him summoned, and put in prison in
order to make him better. He was kept for a while on bread and water, and t=
hen
set free again. He was forced, however, to promise not to beat his wife any
more, but to live with her in peace, and share joy and sorrow with her, as
married people ought to do. All went on well for a time, but then he fell i=
nto
his old ways, and was surly and quarrelsome. And because he dared not beat =
her,
he would seize her by the hair and tear it out. The woman escaped from him,=
and
sprang out into the yard, but he ran after her with his yard-measure and sc=
issors,
and chased her about, and threw the yard-measure and scissors at her, and
whatever else came his way. When he hit her he laughed, and when he missed =
her,
he stormed and swore. This went on so long that the neighbors came to the
wife's assistance. The tailor was again summoned before the magistrates, and
reminded of his promise. "Dear gentlemen," said he, "I have =
kept
my word, I have not beaten her, but have shared joy and sorrow with her.&qu=
ot;
"How can that be," said the judge, "when she continually bri=
ngs
such heavy complaints against you?" "I have not beaten her, but j=
ust
because she looked so strange I wanted to comb her hair with my hand; she,
however, got away from me, and left me quite spitefully. Then I hurried aft=
er
her, and in order to bring her back to her duty, I threw at her as a well-m=
eant
admonition whatever came readily to hand. I have shared joy and sorrow with=
her
also, for whenever I hit her I was full of joy, and she of sorrow, and if I
missed her, then she was joyful, and I sorry." The judges were not
satisfied with this answer, but gave him the reward he deserved.
In
former days every sound still had its meaning and application. When the smi=
th's
hammer resounded, it cried, "Strike away! strike away." When the
carpenter's plane grated, it said, "Here goes! here goes." If the=
mill
wheel began to clack, it said, "Help, Lord God! help, Lord God!" =
And if
the miller was a cheat and happened to leave the mill, it spoke high German,
and first asked slowly, "Who is there? Who is there?" and then an=
swered
quickly, "The miller! the miller!" and at last quite in a hurry, =
"He
steals bravely! he steals bravely! three pecks in a bushel."
At
this time the birds also had their own language which every one understood;=
now
it only sounds like chirping, screeching, and whistling, and to some like m=
usic
without words. It came into the bird's mind, however, that they would no lo=
nger
be without a ruler, and would choose one of themselves to be their King. One
alone amongst them, the green plover, was opposed to this. He had lived fre=
e,
and would die free, and anxiously flying hither and thither, he cried,
"Where shall I go? where shall I go?" He retired into a solitary =
and
unfrequented marsh, and showed himself no more among his fellows.
The
birds now wished to discuss the matter, and on a fine May morning they all
gathered together from the woods and fields: eagles and chaffinches, owls a=
nd
crows, larks and sparrows, how can I name them all? Even the cuckoo came, a=
nd
the hoopoe, his clerk, who is so called because he is always heard a few da=
ys
before him, and a very small bird which as yet had no name, mingled with the
band. The hen, which by some accident had heard nothing of the whole matter,
was astonished at the great assemblage. "What, what, what is going to =
be
done?" she cackled; but the cock calmed his beloved hen, and said,
"Only rich people," and told her what they had on hand. It was
decided, however, that the one who could fly the highest should be King. A
tree-frog which was sitting among the bushes, when he heard that, cried a
warning, "No, no, no! no!" because he thought that many tears wou=
ld
be shed because of this; but the crow said, "Caw, caw," and that =
all
would pass off peaceably. It was now determined that on this fine morning t=
hey
should at once begin to ascend, so that hereafter no one should be able to =
say,
"I could easily have flown much higher, but the evening came on, and I
could do no more." On a given signal, therefore, the whole troop rose =
up
in the air. The dust ascended from the land, and there was tremendous
fluttering and whirring and beating of wings, and it looked as if a black c=
loud
was rising up. The little birds were, however, soon left behind. They could=
go
no farther, and fell back to the ground. The larger birds held out longer, =
but
none could equal the eagle, who mounted so high that he could have picked t=
he eyes
out of the sun. And when he saw that the others could not get up to him, he
thought, "Why shouldst thou fly still higher, thou art the King?"=
and
began to let himself down again. The birds beneath him at once cried to him.
"Thou must be our King, no one has flown so high as thou."
"Except me," screamed the little fellow without a name, who had c=
rept
into the breast-feathers of the eagle. And as he was not at all tired, he r=
ose
up and mounted so high that he reached heaven itself. When, however, he had
gone as far as this, he folded his wings together, and called down with cle=
ar
and penetrating voice, "I am King! I am King."
"Thou,
our King?" cried the birds angrily. "Thou hast compassed it by tr=
ick
and cunning!" So they made another condition. He should be King who co=
uld
go down lowest in the ground. How the goose did flap about with its broad
breast when it was once more on the land! How quickly the cock scratched a
hole! The duck came off the worst of all, for she leapt into a ditch, but
sprained her legs, and waddled away to a neighboring pond, crying,
"Cheating, cheating!" The little bird without a name, however, so=
ught
out a mouse-hole, slipped down into it, and cried out of it with his small
voice, "I am King! I am King!"
"Thou
our King!" cried the birds still more angrily. "Dost thou think t=
hy
cunning shall prevail?" They determined to keep him a prisoner in the =
hole
and starve him out. The owl was placed as sentinel in front of it, and was =
not
to let the rascal out if she had any value for her life. When evening was c=
ome
all the birds were feeling very tired after exerting their wings so much, so
they went to bed with their wives and children. The owl alone remained stan=
ding
by the mouse-hole, gazing steadfastly into it with her great eyes. In the
meantime she, too, had grown tired and thought to herself, "You might
certainly shut one eye, you will still watch with the other, and the little
miscreant shall not come out of his hole." So she shut one eye, and wi=
th
the other looked straight at the mouse-hole. The little fellow put his head=
out
and peeped, and wanted to slip away, but the owl came forward immediately, =
and
he drew his head back again. Then the owl opened the one eye again, and shut
the other, intending to shut them in turn all through the night.
But
when she next shut the one eye, she forgot to open the other, and as soon as
both her eyes were shut she fell asleep. The little fellow soon observed th=
at,
and slipped away.
From
that day forth, the owl has never dared to show herself by daylight, for if=
she
does the other birds chase her and pluck her feathers out. She only flies o=
ut
by night, but hates and pursues mice because they make such ugly holes. The
little bird, too, is very unwilling to let himself be seen, because he is
afraid it will cost him his life if he is caught. He steals about in the
hedges, and when he is quite safe, he sometimes cries, "I am King,&quo=
t;
and for this reason, the other birds call him in mockery, 'King of the hedg=
es'
(Zaunkönig). No one, however, was so happy as the lark at not having to
obey the little King. As soon as the sun appears, she ascends high in the a=
ir
and cries, "Ah, how beautiful that is! beautiful that is! beautiful,
beautiful! ah, how beautiful that is!"
The
fishes had for a long time been discontented because no order prevailed in
their kingdom. None of them turned aside for the others, but all swam to the
right or the left as they fancied, or darted between those who wanted to st=
ay
together, or got into their way; and a strong one gave a weak one a blow wi=
th
its tail, which drove it away, or else swallowed it up without more ado.
"How delightful it would be," said they, "if we had a king w=
ho
enforced law and justice among us!" and they met together to choose for
their ruler, the one who could cleave through the water most quickly, and g=
ive
help to the weak ones.
They
placed themselves in rank and file by the shore, and the pike gave the sign=
al
with his tail, on which they all started. Like an arrow, the pike darted aw=
ay,
and with him the herring, the gudgeon, the perch, the carp, and all the res=
t of
them. Even the sole swam with them, and hoped to reach the winning-place. A=
ll
at once, the cry was heard, "The herring is first!" "Who is
first?" screamed angrily the flat envious sole, who had been left far =
behind,
"who is first?" "The herring! The herring," was the ans=
wer.
"The naked herring?" cried the jealous creature, "the naked
herring?" Since that time the sole's mouth has been at one side for a
punishment.
"Where
do you like best to feed your flocks?" said a man to an old cow-herd.
"Here, sir, where the grass is neither too rich nor too poor, or else =
it
is no use." "Why not?" asked the man. "Do you hear that
melancholy cry from the meadow there?" answered the shepherd, "th=
at
is the bittern; he was once a shepherd, and so was the hoopoe also,--I will
tell you the story. The bittern pastured his flocks on rich green meadows w=
here
flowers grew in abundance, so his cows became wild and unmanageable. The ho=
opoe
drove his cattle on to high barren hills, where the wind plays with the san=
d,
and his cows became thin, and got no strength. When it was evening, and the
shepherds wanted to drive their cows homewards, the bittern could not get h=
is
together again; they were too high- spirited, and ran away from him. He cal=
led,
"Come, cows, come," but it was of no use; they took no notice of =
his
calling. The hoopoe, however, could not even get his cows up on their legs,=
so
faint and weak had they become. "Up, up, up," screamed he, but it=
was
in vain, they remained lying on the sand. That is the way when one has no
moderation. And to this day, though they have no flocks now to watch, the
bittern cries, "Come, cows, come," and the hoopoe, "Up, up,
up."
Two or
three hundred years ago, when people were far from being so crafty and cunn=
ing
as they are now-a-day, an extraordinary event took place in a little town. =
By
some mischance one of the great owls, called horned owls, had come from the
neighboring woods into the barn of one of the townsfolk in the night-time, =
and
when day broke did not dare to venture forth again from her retreat, for fe=
ar
of the other birds, which raised a terrible outcry whenever she appeared. In
the morning when the man-servant went into the barn to fetch some straw, he=
was
so mightily alarmed at the sight of the owl sitting there in a corner, that=
he
ran away and announced to his master that a monster, the like of which he h=
ad
never set eyes on in his life, and which could devour a man without the
slightest difficulty, was sitting in the barn, rolling its eyes about in its
head. "I know you already," said the master, "you have coura=
ge
enough to chase a blackbird about the fields, but when you see a dead hen
lying, you have to get a stick before you go near it. I must go and see for
myself what kind of a monster it is," added the master, and went quite
boldly into the granary and looked round him. When, however, he saw the str=
ange
grim creature with his own eyes, he was no less terrified than the servant =
had
been. With two bounds he sprang out, ran to his neighbours, and begged them
imploringly to lend him assistance against an unknown and dangerous beast, =
or
else the whole town might be in danger if it were to break loose out of the
barn, where it was shut up. A great noise and clamour arose in all the stre=
ets,
the townsmen came armed with spears, hay-forks, scythes, and axes, as if th=
ey were
going out against an enemy; finally, the senators appeared with the burgoma=
ster
at their head. When they had drawn up in the market-place, they marched to =
the
barn, and surrounded it on all sides. Thereupon one of the most courageous =
of
them stepped forth and entered with his spear lowered, but came running out
immediately afterwards with a shriek and as pale as death, and could not ut=
ter
a single word. Yet two others ventured in, but they fared no better. At last
one stepped forth; a great strong man who was famous for his warlike deeds,=
and
said, "You will not drive away the monster by merely looking at him; we
must be in earnest here, but I see that you have all tuned into women, and =
not
one of you dares to encounter the animal." He ordered them to give him
some armour, had a sword and spear brought, and armed himself. All praised =
his
courage, though many feared for his life. The two barn-doors were opened, a=
nd
they saw the owl, which in the meantime had perched herself on the middle o=
f a great
cross-beam. He had a ladder brought, and when he raised it, and made ready =
to
climb up, they all cried out to him that he was to bear himself bravely, and
commended him to St. George, who slew the dragon. When he had just got to t=
he
top, and the owl perceived that he had designs on her, and was also bewilde=
red
by the crowd and the shouting, and knew not how to escape, she rolled her e=
yes,
ruffled her feathers, flapped her wings, snapped her beak, and cried,
"Tuwhit, tuwhoo," in a harsh voice. "Strike home! strike
home!" screamed the crowd outside to the valiant hero. "Any one w=
ho
was standing where I am standing," answered he, "would not cry, s=
trike
home!" He certainly did plant his foot one rung higher on the ladder, =
but
then he began to tremble, and half-fainting, went back again.
And
now there was no one left who dared to put himself in such danger. "The
monster," said they, "has poisoned and mortally wounded the very
strongest man among us, by snapping at him and just breathing on him! Are w=
e,
too, to risk our lives?" They took counsel as to what they ought to do=
to
prevent the whole town being destroyed. For a long time everything seemed t=
o be
of no use, but at length the burgomaster found an expedient. "My
opinion," said he, "is that we ought, out of the common purse, to=
pay
for this barn, and whatsoever corn, straw, or hay it contains, and thus
indemnify the owner, and then burn down the whole building, and the terrible
beast with it. Thus no one will have to endanger his life. This is no time =
for
thinking of expense, and niggardliness would be ill applied." All agre=
ed
with him. So they set fire to the barn at all four corners, and with it the=
owl
was miserably burnt. Let any one who will not believe it, go thither and
inquire for himself.
In
days gone by there was a land where the nights were always dark, and the sky
spread over it like a black cloth, for there the moon never rose, and no st=
ar
shone in the obscurity. At the creation of the world, the light at night had
been sufficient. Three young fellows once went out of this country on a
travelling expedition, and arrived in another kingdom, where, in the evening
when the sun had disappeared behind the mountains, a shining globe was plac=
ed
on an oak-tree, which shed a soft light far and wide. By means of this,
everything could very well be seen and distinguished, even though it was no=
t so
brilliant as the sun. The travellers stopped and asked a countryman who was
driving past with his cart, what kind of a light that was. "That is the
moon," answered he; "our mayor bought it for three thalers, and
fastened it to the oak-tree. He has to pour oil into it daily, and to keep =
it
clean, so that it may always burn clearly. He receives a thaler a week from=
us
for doing it."
When
the countryman had driven away, one of them said, "We could make some =
use
of this lamp, we have an oak-tree at home, which is just as big as this, an=
d we
could hang it on that. What a pleasure it would be not to have to feel abou=
t at
night in the darkness!" "I'll tell you what we'll do," said =
the
second; "we will fetch a cart and horses and carry away the moon. The
people here may buy themselves another." "I'm a good climber,&quo=
t;
said the third, "I will bring it down." The fourth brought a cart=
and
horses, and the third climbed the tree, bored a hole in the moon, passed a =
rope
through it, and let it down. When the shining ball lay in the cart, they
covered it over with a cloth, that no one might observe the theft. They
conveyed it safely into their own country, and placed it on a high oak. Old=
and
young rejoiced, when the new lamp let its light shine over the whole land, =
and
bed-rooms and sitting-rooms were filled with it. The dwarfs came forth from
their caves in the rocks, and the tiny elves in their little red coats danc=
ed
in rings on the meadows.
The
four took care that the moon was provided with oil, cleaned the wick, and
received their weekly thaler, but they became old men, and when one of them
grew ill, and saw that he was about to die, he appointed that one quarter of
the moon, should, as his property, be laid in the grave with him. When he d=
ied,
the mayor climbed up the tree, and cut off a quarter with the hedge-shears,=
and
this was placed in his coffin. The light of the moon decreased, but still n=
ot
visibly. When the second died, the second quarter was buried with him, and =
the
light diminished. It grew weaker still after the death of the third, who li=
kewise
took his part of it away with him; and when the fourth was borne to his gra=
ve, the
old state of darkness recommenced, and whenever the people went out at night
without their lanterns they knocked their heads together.
When,
however, the pieces of the moon had united themselves together again in the
world below, where darkness had always prevailed, it came to pass that the =
dead
became restless and awoke from their sleep. They were astonished when they =
were
able to see again; the moonlight was quite sufficient for them, for their e=
yes
had become so weak that they could not have borne the brilliance of the sun.
They rose up and were merry, and fell into their former ways of living. Som=
e of
them went to the play and to dance, others hastened to the public-houses, w=
here
they asked for wine, got drunk, brawled, quarreled, and at last took up
cudgels, and belabored each other. The noise became greater and greater, an=
d at
last reached even to heaven.
Saint
Peter who guards the gate of heaven thought the lower world had broken out =
in
revolt and gathered together the heavenly troops, which are to drive back t=
he
Evil One when he and his associates storm the abode of the blessed. As thes=
e,
however, did not come, he got on his horse and rode through the gate of hea=
ven,
down into the world below. There he reduced the dead to subjection, bade th=
em
lie down in their graves again, took the moon away with him, and hung it up=
in
heaven.
When
God had created the world and was about to fix the length of each creature's
life, the ass came and asked, "Lord, how long shall I live?"
"Thirty years," replied God; "does that content thee?"
"Ah, Lord," answered the ass, "that is a long time. Think of=
my
painful existence! To carry heavy burdens from morning to night, to drag sa=
cks
of corn to the mill, that others may eat bread, to be cheered and refreshed=
with
nothing but blows and kicks. Relieve me of a portion of this long time.&quo=
t;
Then God had pity on him and relieved him of eighteen years. The ass went a=
way
comforted, and the dog appeared. "How long wouldst thou like to
live?" said God to him. "Thirty years are too many for the ass, b=
ut
thou wilt be satisfied with that." "Lord," answered the dog,
"is that thy will? Consider how I shall have to run, my feet will never
hold out so long, and when I have once lost my voice for barking, and my te=
eth
for biting, what will be left for me to do but run from one corner to anoth=
er and
growl?" God saw that he was right, and released him from twelve years =
of
life. Then came the monkey. "Thou wilt certainly live thirty years wil=
lingly?"
said the Lord to him. "Thou hast no need to work as the ass and the dog
have to do, and wilt always enjoy thyself." "Ah! Lord," he
answered, "it may seem as if that were the case, but it is quite diffe=
rent.
When it rains porridge I have no spoon. I am always to play merry pranks, a=
nd
make faces which force people to laugh, and if they give me an apple, and I
bite into it, why it is sour! How often sadness hides itself behind mirth! I
shall never be able to hold out for thirty years." God was gracious and
took off ten.
At
last man appeared, joyous, healthy and vigorous, and begged God to appoint =
his
time for him. "Thirty years shalt thou live," said the Lord. &quo=
t;Is
that enough for thee?" "What a short time," cried man, "=
;when
I have built my house and my fire burns on my own hearth; when I have plant=
ed
trees which blossom and bear fruit, and am just intending to enjoy my life,=
I
am to die! O Lord, lengthen my time." "I will add to it the ass's
eighteen years," said God. "That is not enough," replied the
man. "Thou shalt also have the dog's twelve years." "Still t=
oo
little!" "Well, then," said God, "I will give thee the
monkey's ten years also, but more thou shalt not have." The man went a=
way,
but was not satisfied.
So man
lives seventy years. The first thirty are his human years, which are soon g=
one;
then is he healthy, merry, works with pleasure, and is glad of his life. Th=
en
follow the ass's eighteen years, when one burden after another is laid on h=
im,
he has to carry the corn which feeds others, and blows and kicks are the re=
ward
of his faithful services. Then come the dog's twelve years, when he lies in=
the
corner, and growls and has no longer any teeth to bite with, and when this =
time
is over the monkey's ten years form the end. Then man is weak-headed and
foolish, does silly things, and becomes the jest of the children.
In
ancient times a giant was once travelling on a great highway, when suddenly=
an
unknown man sprang up before him, and said, "Halt, not one step
farther!" "What!" cried the giant, "a creature whom I c=
an
crush between my fingers, wants to block my way? Who art thou that thou dar=
est to
speak so boldly?" "I am Death," answered the other. "No=
one
resists me, and thou also must obey my commands." But the giant refuse=
d,
and began to struggle with Death. It was a long, violent battle, at last the
giant got the upper hand, and struck Death down with his fist, so that he
dropped by a stone. The giant went his way, and Death lay there conquered, =
and so
weak that he could not get up again. "What will be done now," sai=
d he,
"if I stay lying here in a corner? No one will die in the world, and it
will get so full of people that they won't have room to stand beside each
other." In the meantime a young man came along the road, who was strong
and healthy, singing a song, and glancing around on every side. When he saw=
the
half-fainting one, he went compassionately to him, raised him up, poured a
strengthening draught out of his flask for him, and waited till he came rou=
nd.
"Dost thou know," said the stranger, whilst he was getting up,
"who I am, and who it is whom thou hast helped on his legs again?"
"No," answered the youth, "I do not know thee." "I=
am Death,"
said he. "I spare no one, and can make no exception with thee, but that
thou mayst see that I am grateful, I promise thee that I will not fall on t=
hee
unexpectedly, but will send my messengers to thee before I come and take th=
ee
away." "Well," said the youth, "it is something gained =
that
I shall know when thou comest, and at any rate be safe from thee for so
long." Then he went on his way, and was light-hearted, and enjoyed
himself, and lived without thought. But youth and health did not last long,
soon came sicknesses and sorrows, which tormented him by day, and took away=
his
rest by night. "Die, I shall not," said he to himself, "for
Death will send his messengers before that, but I do wish these wretched da=
ys
of sickness were over." As soon as he felt himself well again he began
once more to live merrily. Then one day some one tapped him on the shoulder=
. He
looked round, and Death stood behind him, and said, "Follow me, the ho=
ur
of thy departure from this world has come." "What," replied =
the
man, "wilt thou break thy word? Didst thou not promise me that thou
wouldst send thy messengers to me before coming thyself? I have seen
none!" "Silence!" answered Death. "Have I not sent one
messenger to thee after another? Did not fever come and smite thee, and sha=
ke
thee, and cast thee down? Has dizziness not bewildered thy head? Has not go=
ut
twitched thee in all thy limbs? Did not thine ears sing? Did not tooth-ache
bite into thy cheeks? Was it not dark before thine eyes? And besides all th=
at,
has not my own brother Sleep reminded thee every night of me? Didst thou not
lie by night as if thou wert already dead? The man could make no answer; he
yielded to his fate, and went away with Death.
Master
Pfriem was a short, thin, but lively man, who never rested a moment. His fa=
ce,
of which his turned-up nose was the only prominent feature, was marked with
small-pox and pale as death, his hair was gray and shaggy, his eyes small, =
but
they glanced perpetually about on all sides. He saw everything, criticised
everything, knew everything best, and was always in the right. When he went
into the streets, he moved his arms about as if he were rowing; and once he
struck the pail of a girl, who was carrying water, so high in the air that =
he
himself was wetted all over by it. "Stupid thing," cried he to he=
r,
while he was shaking himself, "couldst thou not see that I was coming
behind thee?" By trade he was a shoemaker, and when he worked he pulled
his thread out with such force that he drove his fist into every one who did
not keep far enough off. No apprentice stayed more than a month with him, f=
or
he had always some fault to find with the very best work. At one time it was
that the stitches were not even, at another that one shoe was too long, or =
one heel
higher than the other, or the leather not cut large enough. "Wait,&quo=
t;
said he to his apprentice, "I will soon show thee how we make skins
soft," and he brought a strap and gave him a couple of strokes across =
the
back. He called them all sluggards. He himself did not turn much work out of
his hands, for he never sat still for a quarter of an hour. If his wife got=
up
very early in the morning and lighted the fire, he jumped out of bed, and r=
an
bare-footed into the kitchen, crying, "Wilt thou burn my house down for
me? That is a fire one could roast an ox by! Does wood cost nothing?" =
If
the servants were standing by their wash-tubs and laughing, and telling each
other all they knew, he scolded them, and said, "There stand the geese
cackling, and forgetting their work, to gossip! And why fresh soap? Disgrac=
eful
extravagance and shameful idleness into the bargain! They want to save their
hands, and not rub the things properly!" And out he would run and knoc=
k a
pail full of soap and water over, so that the whole kitchen was flooded.
Someone was building a new house, so he hurried to the window to look on.
"There, they are using that red sand-stone again that never dries!&quo=
t;
cried he. "No one will ever be healthy in that house! and just look how
badly the fellows are laying the stones! Besides, the mortar is good for
nothing! It ought to have gravel in it, not sand. I shall live to see that
house tumble down on the people who are in it." He sat down, put a cou=
ple
of stitches in, and then jumped up again, unfastened his leather-apron, and
cried, "I will just go out, and appeal to those men's consciences.&quo=
t;
He stumbled on the carpenters. "What's this?" cried he, "you=
are
not working by the line! Do you expect the beams to be straight?--one wrong
will put all wrong." He snatched an axe out of a carpenter's hand and
wanted to show him how he ought to cut; but as a cart loaded with clay came=
by,
he threw the axe away, and hastened to the peasant who was walking by the s=
ide
of it: "You are not in your right mind," said he, "who yokes=
young
horses to a heavily-laden cart? The poor beasts will die on the spot."=
The
peasant did not give him an answer, and Pfriem in a rage ran back into his
workshop. When he was setting himself to work again, the apprentice reached=
him
a shoe. "Well, what's that again?" screamed he, "Haven't I t=
old
you you ought not to cut shoes so broad? Who would buy a shoe like this, wh=
ich
is hardly anything else but a sole? I insist on my orders being followed
exactly." "Master," answered the apprentice, "you may
easily be quite right about the shoe being a bad one, but it is the one whi=
ch
you yourself cut out, and yourself set to work at. When you jumped up a whi=
le
since, you knocked it off the table, and I have only just picked it up. An
angel from heaven, however, would never make you believe that."
One
night Master Pfriem dreamed he was dead, and on his way to heaven. When he =
got
there, he knocked loudly at the door. "I wonder," said he to hims=
elf,
"that they have no knocker on the door,---one knocks one's knuckles
sore." The apostle Peter opened the door, and wanted to see who demand=
ed
admission so noisily. "Ah, it's you, Master Pfriem;" said he, &qu=
ot;well,
I'll let you in, but I warn you that you must give up that habit of yours, =
and
find fault with nothing you see in heaven, or you may fare ill." "=
;You
might have spared your warning," answered Pfriem. "I know already
what is seemly, and here, God be thanked, everything is perfect, and there =
is
nothing to blame as there is on earth." So he went in, and walked up a=
nd
down the wide expanses of heaven. He looked around him, to the left and to =
the
right, but sometimes shook his head, or muttered something to himself. Then=
he
saw two angels who were carrying away a beam. It was the beam which some one
had had in his own eye whilst he was looking for the splinter in the eye of
another. They did not, however, carry the beam lengthways, but obliquely.
"Did any one ever see such a piece of stupidity?" thought Master
Pfriem; but he said nothing, and seemed satisfied with it. "It comes to
the same thing after all, whichever way they carry the beam, straight or
crooked, if they only get along with it, and truly I do not see them knock
against anything." Soon after this he saw two angels who were drawing
water out of a well into a bucket, but at the same time he observed that the
bucket was full of holes, and that the water was running out of it on every
side. They were watering the earth with rain. "Hang it," he
exclaimed; but happily recollected himself, and thought, "Perhaps it is
only a pastime. If it is an amusement, then it seems they can do useless th=
ings
of this kind even here in heaven, where people, as I have already noticed, =
do
nothing but idle about." He went farther and saw a cart which had stuck
fast in a deep hole. "It's no wonder," said he to the man who sto=
od
by it; "who would load so unreasonably? what have you there?"
"Good wishes," replied the man, "I could not go along the ri=
ght
way with it, but still I have pushed it safely up here, and they won't leav=
e me
sticking here." In fact an angel did come and harnessed two horses to =
it.
"That's quite right," thought Pfriem, "but two horses won't =
get
that cart out, it must at least have four to it." Another angel came a=
nd
brought two more horses; she did not, however, harness them in front of it,=
but
behind. That was too much for Master Pfriem, "Clumsy creature," he
burst out with, "what are you doing there? Has any one ever since the
world began seen a cart drawn in that way? But you, in your conceited
arrogance, think that you know everything best." He was going to say m=
ore,
but one of the inhabitants of heaven seized him by the throat and pushed him
forth with irresistible strength. Beneath the gateway Master Pfriem turned =
his
head round to take one more look at the cart, and saw that it was being rai=
sed
into the air by four winged horses.
At
this moment Master Pfriem awoke. "Things are certainly arranged in hea=
ven
otherwise than they are on earth," said he to himself, "and that =
excuses
much; but who can see horses harnessed both behind and before with patience=
; to
be sure they had wings, but who could know that? It is, besides, great foll=
y to
fix a pair of wings to a horse that has four legs to run with already! But I
must get up, or else they will make nothing but mistakes for me in my house=
. It
is a lucky thing for me though, that I am not really dead."
There
was once upon a time a very old woman, who lived with he flock of geese in a
waste place among the mountains, and there had a little house. The waste was
surrounded by a large forest, and every morning the old woman took her crut=
ch
and hobbled into it. There, however, the dame was quite active, more so than
any one would have thought, considering her age, and collected grass for her
geese, picked all the wild fruit she could reach, and carried everything ho=
me
on her back. Any one would have thought that the heavy load would have weig=
hed
her to the ground, but she always brought it safely home. If any one met he=
r, she
greeted him quite courteously. "Good day, dear countryman, it is a fine
day. Ah! you wonder that I should drag grass about, but every one must take=
his
burthen on his back." Nevertheless, people did not like to meet her if
they could help it, and took by preference a round-about way, and when a fa=
ther
with his boys passed her, he whispered to them, "Beware of the old wom=
an.
She has claws beneath her gloves; she is a witch." One morning, a hand=
some
young man was going through the forest. The sun shone bright, the birds san=
g, a
cool breeze crept through the leaves, and he was full of joy and gladness. =
He
had as yet met no one, when he suddenly perceived the old witch kneeling on=
the
ground cutting grass with a sickle. She had already thrust a whole load into
her cloth, and near it stood two baskets, which were filled with wild apples
and pears. "But, good little mother," said he, "how canst th=
ou
carry all that away?" "I must carry it, dear sir," answered =
she,
"rich folk's children have no need to do such things, but with the pea=
sant
folk the saying goes, don't look behind you, you will only see how crooked =
your
back is!"
"Will
you help me?" she said, as he remained standing by her. "You have
still a straight back and young legs, it would be a trifle to you. Besides,=
my
house is not so very far from here, it stands there on the heath behind the
hill. How soon you would bound up thither." The young man took compass=
ion
on the old woman. "My father is certainly no peasant," replied he,
"but a rich count; nevertheless, that you may see that it is not only
peasants who can carry things, I will take your bundle." "If you =
will
try it," said she, "I shall be very glad. You will certainly have=
to
walk for an hour, but what will that signify to you; only you must carry the
apples and pears as well?" It now seemed to the young man just a little
serious, when he heard of an hour's walk, but the old woman would not let h=
im
off, packed the bundle on his back, and hung the two baskets on his arm.
"See, it is quite light," said she. "No, it is not light,&qu=
ot;
answered the count, and pulled a rueful face. "Verily, the bundle weig=
hs
as heavily as if it were full of cobble stones, and the apples and pears ar=
e as
heavy as lead! I can scarcely breathe." He had a mind to put everything
down again, but the old woman would not allow it. "Just look," sa=
id
she mockingly, "the young gentleman will not carry what I, an old woma=
n,
have so often dragged along. You are ready with fine words, but when it com=
es
to be earnest, you want to take to your heels. Why are you standing loiteri=
ng
there?" she continued. "Step out. No one will take the bundle off
again." As long as he walked on level ground, it was still bearable, b=
ut
when they came to the hill and had to climb, and the stones rolled down und=
er
his feet as if they were alive, it was beyond his strength. The drops of
perspiration stood on his forehead, and ran, hot and cold, down his back.
"Dame," said he, "I can go no farther. I want to rest a
little." "Not here," answered the old woman, "when we h=
ave
arrived at our journey's end, you can rest; but now you must go forward. Who
knows what good it may do you?" "Old woman, thou art becoming
shameless!" said the count, and tried to throw off the bundle, but he
laboured in vain; it stuck as fast to his back as if it grew there. He turn=
ed
and twisted, but he could not get rid of it. The old woman laughed at this,=
and
sprang about quite delighted on her crutch. "Don't get angry, dear
sir," said she, "you are growing as red in the face as a turkey-c=
ock!
Carry your bundle patiently. I will give you a good present when we get
home."
What
could he do? He was obliged to submit to his fate, and crawl along patiently
behind the old woman. She seemed to grow more and more nimble, and his burd=
en
still heavier. All at once she made a spring, jumped on to the bundle and
seated herself on the top of it; and however withered she might be, she was=
yet
heavier than the stoutest country lass. The youth's knees trembled, but whe=
n he
did not go on, the old woman hit him about the legs with a switch and with
stinging-nettles. Groaning continually, he climbed the mountain, and at len=
gth
reached the old woman's house, when he was just about to drop. When the gee=
se
perceived the old woman, they flapped their wings, stretched out their neck=
s,
ran to meet her, cackling all the while. Behind the flock walked, stick in
hand, an old wench, strong and big, but ugly as night. "Good mother,&q=
uot;
said she to the old woman, "has anything happened to you, you have sta=
yed
away so long?" "By no means, my dear daughter," answered she,
"I have met with nothing bad, but, on the contrary, with this kind
gentleman, who has carried my burthen for me; only think, he even took me on
his back when I was tired. The way, too, has not seemed long to us; we have
been merry, and have been cracking jokes with each other all the time."=
; At
last the old woman slid down, took the bundle off the young man's back, and=
the
baskets from his arm, looked at him quite kindly, and said, "Now seat =
yourself
on the bench before the door, and rest. You have fairly earned your wages, =
and
they shall not be wanting." Then she said to the goose- girl, "Go
into the house, my dear daughter, it is not becoming for thee to be alone w=
ith
a young gentleman; one must not pour oil on to the fire, he might fall in l=
ove
with thee." The count knew not whether to laugh or to cry. "Such a
sweetheart as that," thought he, "could not touch my heart, even =
if
she were thirty years younger." In the meantime the old woman stroked =
and
fondled her geese as if they were children, and then went into the house wi=
th
her daughter. The youth lay down on the bench, under a wild apple-tree. The=
air
was warm and mild; on all sides stretched a green meadow, which was set with
cowslips, wild thyme, and a thousand other flowers; through the midst of it
rippled a clear brook on which the sun sparkled, and the white geese went
walking backwards and forwards, or paddled in the water. "It is quite
delightful here," said he, "but I am so tired that I cannot keep =
my
eyes open; I will sleep a little. If only a gust of wind does not come and =
blow
my legs off my body, for they are as rotten as tinder."
When
he had slept a little while, the old woman came and shook him till he awoke.
"Sit up," said she, "thou canst not stay here; I have certai=
nly treated
thee hardly, still it has not cost thee thy life. Of money and land thou ha=
st
no need, here is something else for thee." Thereupon she thrust a litt=
le
book into his hand, which was cut out of a single emerald. "Take great
care of it," said she, "it will bring thee good fortune." The
count sprang up, and as he felt that he was quite fresh, and had recovered =
his
vigor, he thanked the old woman for her present, and set off without even o=
nce
looking back at the beautiful daughter. When he was already some way off, he
still heard in the distance the noisy cry of the geese.
For
three days the count had to wander in the wilderness before he could find h=
is
way out. He then reached a large town, and as no one knew him, he was led i=
nto
the royal palace, where the King and Queen were sitting on their throne. The
count fell on one knee, drew the emerald book out of his pocket, and laid i=
t at
the Queen's feet. She bade him rise and hand her the little book. Hardly,
however, had she opened it, and looked therein, than she fell as if dead to=
the
ground. The count was seized by the King's servants, and was being led to
prison, when the Queen opened her eyes, and ordered them to release him, and
every one was to go out, as she wished to speak with him in private.
When
the Queen was alone, she began to weep bitterly, and said, "Of what us=
e to
me are the splendours and honours with which I am surrounded; every morning=
I
awake in pain and sorrow. I had three daughters, the youngest of whom was so
beautiful that the whole world looked on her as a wonder. She was as white =
as
snow, as rosy as apple-blossom, and her hair as radiant as sun-beams. When =
she
cried, not tears fell from her eyes, but pearls and jewels only. When she w=
as
fifteen years old, the King summoned all three sisters to come before his
throne. You should have seen how all the people gazed when the youngest
entered, it was just as if the sun were rising! Then the King spoke, "=
My
daughters, I know not when my last day may arrive; I will to-day decide what
each shall receive at my death. You all love me, but the one of you who lov=
es
me best, shall fare the best." Each of them said she loved him best.
"Can you not express to me," said the King, "how much you do
love me, and thus I shall see what you mean?" The eldest spoke. "I
love my father as dearly as the sweetest sugar." The second, "I l=
ove
my father as dearly as my prettiest dress." But the youngest was silen=
t.
Then the father said, "And thou, my dearest child, how much dost thou =
love
me?" "I do not know, and can compare my love with nothing." =
But
her father insisted that she should name something. So she said at last,
"The best food does not please me without salt, therefore I love my fa=
ther
like salt." When the King heard that, he fell into a passion, and said,
"If thou lovest me like salt, thy love shall also be repaid thee with
salt." Then he divided the kingdom between the two elder, but caused a
sack of salt to be bound on the back of the youngest, and two servants had =
to
lead her forth into the wild forest. We all begged and prayed for her, said=
the
Queen, "but the King's anger was not to be appeased. How she cried when
she had to leave us! The whole road was strewn with the pearls which flowed=
from
her eyes. The King soon afterwards repented of his great severity, and had =
the
whole forest searched for the poor child, but no one could find her. When I
think that the wild beasts have devoured her, I know not how to contain mys=
elf
for sorrow; many a time I console myself with the hope that she is still al=
ive,
and may have hidden herself in a cave, or has found shelter with compassion=
ate
people. But picture to yourself, when I opened your little emerald book, a
pearl lay therein, of exactly the same kind as those which used to fall fro=
m my
daughter's eyes; and then you can also imagine how the sight of it stirred =
my
heart. You must tell me how you came by that pearl." The count told her
that he had received it from the old woman in the forest, who had appeared =
very
strange to him, and must be a witch, but he had neither seen nor hear anyth=
ing
of the Queen's child. The King and the Queen resolved to seek out the old
woman. They thought that there where the pearl had been, they would obtain =
news
of their daughter.
The
old woman was sitting in that lonely place at her spinning-wheel, spinning.=
It
was already dusk, and a log which was burning on the hearth gave a scanty
light. All at once there was a noise outside, the geese were coming home fr=
om
the pasture, and uttering their hoarse cries. Soon afterwards the daughter =
also
entered. But the old woman scarcely thanked her, and only shook her head a
little. The daughter sat down beside her, took her spinning-wheel, and twis=
ted
the threads as nimbly as a young girl. Thus they both sat for two hours, and
exchanged never a word. At last something rustled at the window, and two fi=
ery
eyes peered in. It was an old night-owl, which cried, "Uhu!" three
times. The old woman looked up just a little, then she said, "Now, my
little daughter, it is time for thee to go out and do thy work." She r=
ose
and went out, and where did she go? Over the meadows ever onward into the
valley. At last she came to a well, with three old oak-trees standing beside
it; meanwhile the moon had risen large and round over the mountain, and it =
was
so light that one could have found a needle. She removed a skin which cover=
ed
her face, then bent down to the well, and began to wash herself. When she h=
ad
finished, she dipped the skin also in the water, and then laid it on the
meadow, so that it should bleach in the moonlight, and dry again. But how t=
he maiden
was changed! Such a change as that was never seen before! When the gray mask
fell off, her golden hair broke forth like sunbeams, and spread about like a
mantle over her whole form. Her eyes shone out as brightly as the stars in
heaven, and her cheeks bloomed a soft red like apple-blossom.
But
the fair maiden was sad. She sat down and wept bitterly. One tear after ano=
ther
forced itself out of her eyes, and rolled through her long hair to the grou=
nd.
There she sat, and would have remained sitting a long time, if there had not
been a rustling and cracking in the boughs of the neighbouring tree. She sp=
rang
up like a roe which has been overtaken by the shot of the hunter. Just then=
the
moon was obscured by a dark cloud, and in an instant the maiden had put on =
the
old skin and vanished, like a light blown out by the wind.
She
ran back home, trembling like an aspen-leaf. The old woman was standing on =
the
threshold, and the girl was about to relate what had befallen her, but the =
old
woman laughed kindly, and said, "I already know all." She led her
into the room and lighted a new log. She did not, however, sit down to her
spinning again, but fetched a broom and began to sweep and scour, "All
must be clean and sweet," she said to the girl. "But, mother,&quo=
t;
said the maiden, "why do you begin work at so late an hour? What do you
expect?" "Dost thou know then what time it is?" asked the old
woman. "Not yet midnight," answered the maiden, "but already=
past
eleven o'clock." "Dost thou not remember," continued the old
woman, "that it is three years to-day since thou camest to me? Thy tim=
e is
up, we can no longer remain together." The girl was terrified, and sai=
d, "Alas!
dear mother, will you cast me off? Where shall I go? I have no friends, and=
no
home to which I can go. I have always done as you bade me, and you have alw=
ays
been satisfied with me; do not send me away." The old woman would not =
tell
the maiden what lay before her. "My stay here is over," she said =
to
her, "but when I depart, house and parlour must be clean: therefore do=
not
hinder me in my work. Have no care for thyself, thou shalt find a roof to
shelter thee, and the wages which I will give thee shall also content
thee." "But tell me what is about to happen," the maiden
continued to entreat. "I tell thee again, do not hinder me in my work.=
Do
not say a word more, go to thy chamber, take the skin off thy face, and put=
on
the silken gown which thou hadst on when thou camest to me, and then wait in
thy chamber until I call thee."
But I
must once more tell of the King and Queen, who had journeyed forth with the
count in order to seek out the old woman in the wilderness. The count had
strayed away from them in the wood by night, and had to walk onwards alone.
Next day it seemed to him that he was on the right track. He still went
forward, until darkness came on, then he climbed a tree, intending to pass =
the
night there, for he feared that he might lose his way. When the moon illumi=
ned
the surrounding country he perceived a figure coming down the mountain. She=
had
no stick in her hand, but yet he could see that it was the goose-girl, whom=
he
had seen before in the house of the old woman. "Oho," cried he,
"there she comes, and if I once get hold of one of the witches, the ot=
her
shall not escape me!" But how astonished he was, when she went to the
well, took off the skin and washed herself, when her golden hair fell down =
all
about her, and she was more beautiful than any one whom he had ever seen in=
the
whole world. He hardly dared to breathe, but stretched his head as far forw=
ard
through the leaves as he dared, and stared at her. Either he bent over too =
far,
or whatever the cause might be, the bough suddenly cracked, and that very
moment the maiden slipped into the skin, sprang away like a roe, and as the
moon was suddenly covered, disappeared from his eyes. Hardly had she
disappeared, before the count descended from the tree, and hastened after h=
er
with nimble steps. He had not been gone long before he saw, in the twilight,
two figures coming over the meadow. It was the King and Queen, who had
perceived from a distance the light shining in the old woman's little house,
and were going to it. The count told them what wonderful things he had seen=
by
the well, and they did not doubt that it had been their lost daughter. They
walked onwards full of joy, and soon came to the little house. The geese we=
re
sitting all round it, and had thrust their heads under their wings and were
sleeping, and not one of them moved. The King and Queen looked in at the
window, the old woman was sitting there quite quietly spinning, nodding her
head and never looking round. The room was perfectly clean, as if the littl=
e mist
men, who carry no dust on their feet, lived there. Their daughter, however,=
they
did not see. They gazed at all this for a long time, at last they took hear=
t,
and knocked softly at the window. The old woman appeared to have been expec=
ting
them; she rose, and called out quite kindly, "Come in,--I know you
already." When they had entered the room, the old woman said, "You
might have spared yourself the long walk, if you had not three years ago
unjustly driven away your child, who is so good and lovable. No harm has co=
me
to her; for three years she has had to tend the geese; with them she has le=
arnt
no evil, but has preserved her purity of heart. You, however, have been
sufficiently punished by the misery in which you have lived." Then she
went to the chamber and called, "Come out, my little daughter."
Thereupon the door opened, and the princess stepped out in her silken garme=
nts,
with her golden hair and her shining eyes, and it was as if an angel from
heaven had entered.
She
went up to her father and mother, fell on their necks and kissed them; there
was no help for it, they all had to weep for joy. The young count stood near
them, and when she perceived him she became as red in the face as a moss-ro=
se,
she herself did not know why. The King said, "My dear child, I have gi=
ven
away my kingdom, what shall I give thee?" "She needs nothing,&quo=
t;
said the old woman. "I give her the tears that she has wept on your
account; they are precious pearls, finer than those that are found in the s=
ea,
and worth more than your whole kingdom, and I give her my little house as
payment for her services." When the old woman had said that, she
disappeared from their sight. The walls rattled a little, and when the King=
and
Queen looked round, the little house had changed into a splendid palace, a
royal table had been spread, and the servants were running hither and thith=
er.
The
story goes still further, but my grandmother, who related it to me, had par=
tly
lost her memory, and had forgotten the rest. I shall always believe that the
beautiful princess married the count, and that they remained together in the
palace, and lived there in all happiness so long as God willed it. Whether =
the
snow-white geese, which were kept near the little hut, were verily young
maidens (no one need take offence,) whom the old woman had taken under her
protection, and whether they now received their human form again, and staye=
d as
handmaids to the young Queen, I do not exactly know, but I suspect it. This
much is certain, that the old woman was no witch, as people thought, but a =
wise
woman, who meant well. Very likely it was she who, at the princess's birth,=
gave
her the gift of weeping pearls instead of tears. That does not happen
now-a-days, or else the poor would soon become rich.
When
Adam and Eve were driven out of Paradise, they were compelled to build a ho=
use
for themselves on unfruitful ground, and eat their bread in the sweat of th=
eir
brow. Adam dug up the land, and Eve span. Every year Eve brought a child in=
to
the world; but the children were unlike each other, some pretty, and some u=
gly.
After a considerable time had gone by, God sent an angel to them, to announ=
ce
that he was coming to inspect their household. Eve, delighted that the Lord
should be so gracious, cleaned her house diligently, decked it with flowers,
and strewed reeds on the floor. Then she brought in her children, but only =
the
beautiful ones. She washed and bathed them, combed their hair, put clean
raiment on them, and cautioned them to conduct themselves decorously and
modestly in the presence of the Lord. They were to bow down before him civi=
lly,
hold out their hands, and to answer his questions modestly and sensibly. The
ugly children were, however, not to let themselves be seen. One hid himself
beneath the hay, another under the roof, a third in the straw, the fourth in
the stove, the fifth in the cellar, the sixth under a tub, the seventh bene=
ath
the wine-cask, the eighth under an old fur cloak, the ninth and tenth benea=
th
the cloth out of which she always made their clothes, and the eleventh and
twelfth under the leather out of which she cut their shoes. She had scarcely
got ready, before there was a knock at the house-door. Adam looked through a
chink, and saw that it was the Lord. Adam opened the door respectfully, and=
the
Heavenly Father entered. There, in a row, stood the pretty children, and bo=
wed
before him, held out their hands, and knelt down. The Lord, however, began =
to
bless them, laid his hands on the first, and said, "Thou shalt be a
powerful king;" and to the second, "Thou a prince," to the
third, "Thou a count," to the fourth, "Thou a knight," =
to
the fifth, "Thou a nobleman," to the sixth, "Thou a
burgher," to the seventh, "Thou a merchant," to the eighth,
"Thou a learned man." He bestowed upon them also all his richest
blessings. When Eve saw that the Lord was so mild and gracious, she thought,
"I will bring hither my ill-favoured children also, it may be that he =
will
bestow his blessing on them likewise." So she ran and brought them out=
of
the hay, the straw, the stove, and wherever else she had concealed them. Th=
en
came the whole coarse, dirty, shabby, sooty band. The Lord smiled, looked at
them all, and said, "I will bless these also." He laid his hands =
on
the first, and said to him, "Thou shalt be a peasant," to the sec=
ond,
"Thou a fisherman," to the third, "Thou a smith," to the
fourth, "Thou a tanner," to the fifth, "Thou a weaver,"=
to
the sixth, "Thou a shoemaker," to the seventh, "Thou a
tailor," to the eighth, "Thou a potter," to the ninth,
"Thou a waggoner," to the tenth, "Thou a sailor," to the
eleventh, "Thou an errand-boy," to the twelfth, "Thou a scul=
lion
all the days of thy life."
When
Eve had heard all this she said, "Lord, how unequally thou dividest thy
gifts! After all they are all of them my children, whom I have brought into=
the
world, thy favours should be given to all alike." But God answered,
"Eve, thou dost not understand. It is right and necessary that the ent=
ire
world should be supplied from thy children; if they were all princes and lo=
rds,
who would grow corn, thresh it, grind and bake it? Who would be blacksmiths,
weavers, carpenters, masons, labourers, tailors and seamstresses? Each shall
have his own place, so that one shall support the other, and all shall be f=
ed
like the limbs of one body." Then Eve answered, "Ah, Lord, forgive
me, I was too quick in speaking to thee. Have thy divine will with my
children."
There
was once upon a time a miller who lived with his wife in great contentment.
They had money and land, and their prosperity increased year by year more a=
nd
more. But ill-luck comes like a thief in the night, as their wealth had
increased so did it again decrease, year by year, and at last the miller co=
uld
hardly call the mill in which he lived, his own. He was in great distress, =
and
when he lay down after his day's work, found no rest, but tossed about in h=
is
bed, full of care. One morning he rose before daybreak and went out into the
open air, thinking that perhaps there his heart might become lighter. As he=
was
stepping over the mill- dam the first sunbeam was just breaking forth, and =
he
heard a rippling sound in the pond. He turned round and perceived a beautif=
ul
woman, rising slowly out of the water. Her long hair, which she was holding=
off
her shoulders with her soft hands, fell down on both sides, and covered her
white body. He soon saw that she was the Nix of the Mill-pond, and in his
fright did not know whether he should run away or stay where he was. But the
nix made her sweet voice heard, called him by his name, and asked him why he
was so sad? The miller was at first struck dumb, but when he heard her spea=
k so
kindly, he took heart, and told her how he had formerly lived in wealth and
happiness, but that now he was so poor that he did not know what to do.
"Be easy," answered the nix, "I will make thee richer and
happier than thou hast ever been before, only thou must promise to give me =
the
young thing which has just been born in thy house." "What else can
that be," thought the miller, "but a young puppy or kitten?"=
and
he promised her what she desired. The nix descended into the water again, a=
nd
he hurried back to his mill, consoled and in good spirits. He had not yet
reached it, when the maid-servant came out of the house, and cried to him to
rejoice, for his wife had given birth to a little boy. The miller stood as =
if
struck by lightning; he saw very well that the cunning nix had been aware of
it, and had cheated him. Hanging his head, he went up to his wife's bedside=
and
when she said, "Why dost thou not rejoice over the fine boy?" he =
told
her what had befallen him, and what kind of a promise he had given to the n=
ix.
"Of what use to me are riches and prosperity?" he added, "if=
I
am to lose my child; but what can I do?" Even the relations, who had c=
ome
thither to wish them joy, did not know what to say. In the meantime prosper=
ity
again returned to the miller's house. All that he undertook succeeded, it w=
as
as if presses and coffers filled themselves of their own accord, and as if
money multiplied nightly in the cupboards. It was not long before his wealt=
h was
greater than it had ever been before. But he could not rejoice over it
untroubled, for the bargain which he had made with the nix tormented his so=
ul.
Whenever he passed the mill-pond, he feared she might ascend and remind him=
of
his debt. He never let the boy himself go near the water. "Beware,&quo=
t;
he said to him, "if thou dost but touch the water, a hand will rise, s=
eize
thee, and draw thee down." But as year after year went by and the nix =
did
not show herself again, the miller began to feel at ease. The boy grew up t=
o be
a youth and was apprenticed to a huntsman. When he had learnt everything, a=
nd had
become an excellent huntsman, the lord of the village took him into his
service. In the village lived a beautiful and true-hearted maiden, who plea=
sed
the huntsman, and when his master perceived that, he gave him a little hous=
e,
the two were married, lived peacefully and happily, and loved each other wi=
th
all their hearts.
One
day the huntsman was chasing a roe; and when the animal turned aside from t=
he
forest into the open country, he pursued it and at last shot it. He did not
notice that he was now in the neighbourhood of the dangerous mill-pond, and
went, after he had disembowelled the stag, to the water, in order to wash h=
is
blood-stained hands. Scarcely, however, had he dipped them in than the nix
ascended, smilingly wound her dripping arms around him, and drew him quickly
down under the waves, which closed over him. When it was evening, and the
huntsman did not return home, his wife became alarmed. She went out to seek
him, and as he had often told her that he had to be on his guard against the
snares of the nix, and dared not venture into the neighbourhood of the
mill-pond, she already suspected what had happened. She hastened to the wat=
er,
and when she found his hunting-pouch lying on the shore, she could no longer
have any doubt of the misfortune. Lamenting her sorrow, and wringing her ha=
nds,
she called on her beloved by name, but in vain. She hurried across to the o=
ther
side of the pond, and called him anew; she reviled the nix with harsh words,
but no answer followed. The surface of the water remained calm, only the
crescent moon stared steadily back at her. The poor woman did not leave the
pond. With hasty steps, she paced round and round it, without resting a mom=
ent,
sometimes in silence, sometimes uttering a loud cry, sometimes softly sobbi=
ng.
At last her strength came to an end, she sank down to the ground and fell i=
nto
a heavy sleep. Presently a dream took possession of her. She was anxiously
climbing upwards between great masses of rock; thorns and briars caught her
feet, the rain beat in her face, and the wind tossed her long hair about. W=
hen
she had reached the summit, quite a different sight presented itself to her;
the sky was blue, the air soft, the ground sloped gently downwards, and on a
green meadow, gay with flowers of every colour, stood a pretty cottage. She
went up to it and opened the door; there sat an old woman with white hair, =
who
beckoned to her kindly. At that very moment, the poor woman awoke, day had
already dawned, and she at once resolved to act in accordance with her drea=
m.
She laboriously climbed the mountain; everything was exactly as she had see=
n it
in the night. The old woman received her kindly, and pointed out a chair on=
which
she might sit. "Thou must have met with a misfortune," she said,
"since thou hast sought out my lonely cottage." With tears, the w=
oman
related what had befallen her. "Be comforted," said the old woman,
"I will help thee. Here is a golden comb for thee. Tarry till the full
moon has risen, then go to the mill-pond, seat thyself on the shore, and co=
mb
thy long black hair with this comb. When thou hast done, lay it down on the
bank, and thou wilt see what will happen." The woman returned home, but
the time till the full moon came, passed slowly. At last the shining disc
appeared in the heavens, then she went out to the mill-pond, sat down and
combed her long black hair with the golden comb, and when she had finished,=
she
laid it down at the water's edge. It was not long before there was a moveme=
nt
in the depths, a wave rose, rolled to the shore, and bore the comb away with
it. In not more than the time necessary for the comb to sink to the bottom,=
the
surface of the water parted, and the head of the huntsman arose. He did not
speak, but looked at his wife with sorrowful glances. At the same instant, a
second wave came rushing up, and covered the man's head. All had vanished, =
the
mill-pond lay peaceful as before, and nothing but the face of the full moon
shone on it. Full of sorrow, the woman went back, but again the dream showed
her the cottage of the old woman. Next morning she again set out and compla=
ined
of her woes to the wise woman. The old woman gave her a golden flute, and s=
aid,
"Tarry till the full moon comes again, then take this flute; play a
beautiful air on it, and when thou hast finished, lay it on the sand; then =
thou
wilt see what will happen." The wife did as the old woman told her. No=
sooner
was the flute lying on the sand than there was a stirring in the depths, an=
d a
wave rushed up and bore the flute away with it. Immediately afterwards the
water parted, and not only the head of the man, but half of his body also
arose. He stretched out his arms longingly towards her, but a second wave c=
ame
up, covered him, and drew him down again. "Alas, what does it profit
me?" said the unhappy woman, "that I should see my beloved, only =
to
lose him again!" Despair filled her heart anew, but the dream led her a
third time to the house of the old woman. She set out, and the wise woman g=
ave
her a golden spinning-wheel, consoled her and said, "All is not yet
fulfilled, tarry until the time of the full moon, then take the spinning-wh=
eel,
seat thyself on the shore, and spin the spool full, and when thou hast done=
that,
place the spinning-wheel near the water, and thou wilt see what will
happen." The woman obeyed all she said exactly; as soon as the full mo=
on
showed itself, she carried the golden spinning-wheel to the shore, and span
industriously until the flax came to an end, and the spool was quite filled
with the threads. No sooner was the wheel standing on the shore than there =
was
a more violent movement than before in the depths of the pond, and a mighty
wave rushed up, and bore the wheel away with it. Immediately the head and t=
he
whole body of the man rose into the air, in a water-spout. He quickly spran=
g to
the shore, caught his wife by the hand and fled. But they had scarcely gone=
a
very little distance, when the whole pond rose with a frightful roar, and
streamed out over the open country. The fugitives already saw death before
their eyes, when the woman in her terror implored the help of the old woman,
and in an instant they were transformed, she into a toad, he into a frog. T=
he
flood which had overtaken them could not destroy them, but it tore them apa=
rt
and carried them far away. When the water had dispersed and they both touch=
ed
dry land again, they regained their human form, but neither knew where the
other was; they found themselves among strange people, who did not know the=
ir
native land. High mountains and deep valleys lay between them. In order to =
keep
themselves alive, they were both obliged to tend sheep. For many long years
they drove their flocks through field and forest and were full of sorrow an=
d longing.
When spring had once more broken forth on the earth, they both went out one=
day
with their flocks, and as chance would have it, they drew near each other. =
They
met in a valley, but did not recognize each other; yet they rejoiced that t=
hey
were no longer so lonely. Henceforth they each day drove their flocks to the
same place; they did not speak much, but they felt comforted. One evening w=
hen
the full moon was shining in the sky, and the sheep were already at rest, t=
he
shepherd pulled the flute out of his pocket, and played on it a beautiful b=
ut
sorrowful air. When he had finished he saw that the shepherdess was weeping
bitterly. "Why art thou weeping?" he asked. "Alas,"
answered she, "thus shone the full moon when I played this air on the
flute for the last time, and the head of my beloved rose out of the
water." He looked at her, and it seemed as if a veil fell from his eye=
s,
and he recognized his dear wife, and when she looked at him, and the moon s=
hone
in his face she knew him also. They embraced and kissed each other, and no =
one
need ask if they were happy.
A
tailor and a goldsmith were travelling together, and one evening when the s=
un
had sunk behind the mountains, they heard the sound of distant music, which
became more and more distinct. It sounded strange, but so pleasant that they
forgot all their weariness and stepped quickly onwards. The moon had already
arisen when they reached a hill on which they saw a crowd of little men and
women, who had taken each other's hands, and were whirling round in the dan=
ce
with the greatest pleasure and delight.
They
sang to it most charmingly, and that was the music which the travellers had
heard. In the midst of them sat an old man who was rather taller than the r=
est.
He wore a parti-coloured coat, and his iron-grey beard hung down over his
breast. The two remained standing full of astonishment, and watched the dan=
ce.
The old man made a sign that they should enter, and the little folks willin=
gly
opened their circle. The goldsmith, who had a hump, and like all hunchbacks=
was
brave enough, stepped in; the tailor felt a little afraid at first, and held
back, but when he saw how merrily all was going, he plucked up his courage,=
and
followed. The circle closed again directly, and the little folks went on
singing and dancing with the wildest leaps. The old man, however, took a la=
rge
knife which hung to his girdle, whetted it, and when it was sufficiently
sharpened, he looked round at the strangers. They were terrified, but they =
had
not much time for reflection, for the old man seized the goldsmith and with=
the
greatest speed, shaved the hair of his head clean off, and then the same th=
ing
happened to the tailor. But their fear left them when, after he had finished
his work, the old man clapped them both on the shoulder in a friendly manne=
r,
as much as to say, they had behaved well to let all that be done to them
willingly, and without any struggle. He pointed with his finger to a heap of
coals which lay at one side, and signified to the travellers by his gesture=
s that
they were to fill their pockets with them. Both of them obeyed, although th=
ey
did not know of what use the coals would be to them, and then they went on
their way to seek a shelter for the night. When they had got into the valle=
y,
the clock of the neighbouring monastery struck twelve, and the song ceased.=
In
a moment all had vanished, and the hill lay in solitude in the moonlight.
The
two travellers found an inn, and covered themselves up on their straw-beds =
with
their coats, but in their weariness forgot to take the coals out of them be=
fore
doing so. A heavy weight on their limbs awakened them earlier than usual. T=
hey
felt in the pockets, and could not believe their eyes when they saw that th=
ey
were not filled with coals, but with pure gold; happily, too, the hair of t=
heir
heads and beards was there again as thick as ever.
They
had now become rich folks, but the goldsmith, who, in accordance with his
greedy disposition, had filled his pockets better, was as rich again as the
tailor. A greedy man, even if he has much, still wishes to have more, so the
goldsmith proposed to the tailor that they should wait another day, and go =
out
again in the evening in order to bring back still greater treasures from the
old man on the hill. The tailor refused, and said, "I have enough and =
am
content; now I shall be a master, and marry my dear object (for so he called
his sweetheart), and I am a happy man." But he stayed another day to
please him. In the evening the goldsmith hung a couple of bags over his
shoulders that he might be able to stow away a great deal, and took the roa=
d to
the hill. He found, as on the night before, the little folks at their singi=
ng
and dancing, and the old man again shaved him clean, and signed to him to t=
ake some
coal away with him. He was not slow about sticking as much into his bags as
would go, went back quite delighted, and covered himself over with his coat.
"Even if the gold does weigh heavily," said he, "I will glad=
ly
bear that," and at last he fell asleep with the sweet anticipation of
waking in the morning an enormously rich man.
When
he opened his eyes, he got up in haste to examine his pockets, but how amaz=
ed
he was when he drew nothing out of them but black coals, and that howsoever
often he put his hands in them. "The gold I got the night before is st=
ill
there for me," thought he, and went and brought it out, but how shocke=
d he
was when he saw that it likewise had again turned into coal. He smote his
forehead with his dusty black hand, and then he felt that his whole head was
bald and smooth, as was also the place where his beard should have been. But
his misfortunes were not yet over; he now remarked for the first time that =
in
addition to the hump on his back, a second, just as large, had grown in fro=
nt on
his breast. Then he recognized the punishment of his greediness, and began =
to
weep aloud. The good tailor, who was wakened by this, comforted the unhappy
fellow as well as he could, and said, "Thou hast been my comrade in my
travelling time; thou shalt stay with me and share in my wealth." He k=
ept
his word, but the poor goldsmith was obliged to carry the two humps as long=
as
he lived, and to cover his bald head with a cap.
A
certain tailor who was great at boasting but ill at doing, took it into his
head to go abroad for a while, and look about the world. As soon as he could
manage it, he left his workshop, and wandered on his way, over hill and dal=
e,
sometimes hither, sometimes thither, but ever on and on. Once when he was o=
ut
he perceived in the blue distance a steep hill, and behind it a tower reach=
ing
to the clouds, which rose up out of a wild dark forest. "Thunder and
lightning," cried the tailor, "what is that?" and as he was
strongly goaded by curiosity, he went boldly towards it. But what made the
tailor open his eyes and mouth when he came near it, was to see that the to=
wer
had legs, and leapt in one bound over the steep hill, and was now standing =
as
an all powerful giant before him. "What dost thou want here, thou tiny
fly's leg?" cried the giant, with a voice as if it were thundering on
every side. The tailor whimpered, "I want just to look about and see i=
f I
can earn a bit of bread for myself, in this forest." "If that is =
what
thou art after," said the giant, "thou mayst have a place with
me." "If it must be, why not? What wages shall I receive?"
"Thou shalt hear what wages thou shalt have. Every year three hundred =
and
sixty-five days, and when it is leap-year, one more into the bargain. Does =
that
suit thee?" "All right," replied the tailor, and thought, in=
his
own mind, "a man must cut his coat according to his cloth; I will try =
to
get away as fast as I can." On this the giant said to him, "Go,
little ragamuffin, and fetch me a jug of water." "Had I not bette=
r bring
the well itself at once, and the spring too?" asked the boaster, and w=
ent
with the pitcher to the water. "What! the well and the spring too,&quo=
t;
growled the giant in his beard, for he was rather clownish and stupid, and
began to be afraid. "That knave is not a fool, he has a wizard in his
body. Be on thy guard, old Hans, this is no serving-man for thee." When
the tailor had brought the water, the giant bade him go into the forest, and
cut a couple of blocks of wood and bring them back. "Why not the whole
forest, at once, with one stroke. The whole forest, young and old, with all
that is there, both rough and smooth?" asked the little tailor, and we=
nt
to cut the wood. "What! the whole forest, young and old, with all that=
is
there, both rough and smooth, and the well and its spring too," growled
the credulous giant in his beard, and was still more terrified. "The k=
nave
can do much more than bake apples, and has a wizard in his body. Be on thy
guard, old Hans, this is no serving-man for thee!" When the tailor had=
brought
the wood, the giant commanded him to shoot two or three wild boars for supp=
er.
"Why not rather a thousand at one shot, and bring them all here?"
inquired the ostentatious tailor. "What!" cried the timid giant in
great terror; "Let well alone to-night, and lie down to rest."
The
giant was so terribly alarmed that he could not close an eye all night long=
for
thinking what would be the best way to get rid of this accursed sorcerer of=
a
servant. Time brings counsel. Next morning the giant and the tailor went to=
a
marsh, round which stood a number of willow-trees. Then said the giant,
"Hark thee, tailor, seat thyself on one of the willow-branches, I long=
of
all things to see if thou art big enough to bend it down." All at once=
the
tailor was sitting on it, holding his breath, and making himself so heavy t=
hat
the bough bent down. When, however, he was compelled to draw breath, it hur=
ried
him (for unfortunately he had not put his goose in his pocket) so high into=
the
air that he never was seen again, and this to the great delight of the gian=
t.
If the tailor has not fallen down again, he must be hovering about in the a=
ir.
A
merchant had done good business at the fair; he had sold his wares, and lin=
ed
his money-bags with gold and silver. Then he wanted to travel homewards, an=
d be
in his own house before nightfall. So he packed his trunk with the money on=
his
horse, and rode away.
At
noon he rested in a town, and when he wanted to go farther the stable-boy
brought out his horse and said, "A nail is wanting, sir, in the shoe of
its left hind foot." "Let it be wanting," answered the merch=
ant;
"the shoe will certainly stay on for the six miles I have still to go.=
I am
in a hurry."
In the
afternoon, when he once more alighted and had his horse fed, the stable-boy
went into the room to him and said, "Sir, a shoe is missing from your
horse's left hind foot. Shall I take him to the blacksmith?" "Let=
it
still be wanting," answered the man; "the horse can very well hold
out for the couple of miles which remain. I am in haste."
He
rode forth, but before long the horse began to limp. It had not limped long
before it began to stumble, and it had not stumbled long before it fell down
and broke its leg. The merchant was forced to leave the horse where it was,=
and
unbuckle the trunk, take it on his back, and go home on foot. And there he =
did
not arrive until quite late at night. "And that unlucky nail," sa=
id
he to himself, "has caused all this disaster."
Hasten
slowly.
There
was once a poor shepherd-boy whose father and mother were dead, and he was
placed by the authorities in the house of a rich man, who was to feed him a=
nd
bring him up. The man and his wife, had however, bad hearts, and were greedy
and anxious about their riches, and vexed whenever any one put a morsel of
their bread in his mouth. The poor young fellow might do what he liked, he =
got
little to eat, but only so many blows the more.
One
day he had to watch a hen and her chickens, but she ran through a quick-set=
hedge
with them, and a hawk darted down instantly, and carried her off through the
air. The boy called, "Thief! thief! rascal!" with all the strengt=
h of
his body. But what good did that do? The hawk did not bring its prey back
again. The man heard the noise, and ran to the spot, and as soon as he saw =
that
his hen was gone, he fell in a rage, and gave the boy such a beating that he
could not stir for two days. Then he had to take care of the chickens witho=
ut
the hen, but now his difficulty was greater, for one ran here and the other
there. He thought he was doing a very wise thing when he tied them all toge=
ther
with a string, because then the hawk would not be able to steal any of them
away from him. But he was very much mistaken. After two days, worn out with
running about and hunger, he fell asleep; the bird of prey came, and seized=
one
of the chickens, and as the others were tied fast to it, it carried them al=
l off
together, perched itself on a tree, and devoured them. The farmer was just
coming home, and when he saw the misfortune, he got angry and beat the boy =
so
unmercifully that he was forced to lie in bed for several days.
When
he was on his legs again, the farmer said to him, "Thou art too stupid=
for
me, I cannot make a herdsman of thee, thou must go as errand-boy." The=
n he
sent him to the judge, to whom he was to carry a basketful of grapes, and he
gave him a letter as well. On the way hunger and thirst tormented the unhap=
py
boy so violently that he ate two of the bunches of grapes. He took the bask=
et to
the judge, but when the judge had read the letter, and counted the bunches =
he
said, "Two clusters are wanting." The boy confessed quite honestly
that, driven by hunger and thirst, he had devoured the two which were wanti=
ng.
The judge wrote a letter to the farmer, and asked for the same number of gr=
apes
again. These also the boy had to take to him with a letter. As he again was=
so
extremely hungry and thirsty, he could not help it, and again ate two bunch=
es.
But first he took the letter out of the basket, put it under a stone and se=
ated
himself thereon in order that the letter might not see and betray him. The
judge, however, again made him give an explanation about the missing bunche=
s.
"Ah," said the boy, "how have you learnt that? The letter co=
uld
not know about it, for I put it under a stone before I did it." The ju=
dge
could not help laughing at the boy's simplicity, and sent the man a letter
wherein he cautioned him to keep the poor boy better, and not let him want =
for
meat and drink, and also that he was to teach him what was right and what w=
as
wrong.
"I
will soon show thee the difference," said the hard man, "if thou =
wilt
eat, thou must work, and if thou dost anything wrong, thou shalt be quite
sufficiently taught by blows."
The
next day he set him a hard task. He was to chop two bundles of straw for fo=
od
for the horses, and then the man threatened: "In five hours," said
he, "I shall be back again, and if the straw is not cut to chaff by th=
at
time, I will beat thee until thou canst not move a limb." The farmer w=
ent
with his wife, the man-servant and the girl, to the yearly fair, and left
nothing behind for the boy but a small bit of bread. The boy seated himself=
on
the bench, and began to work with all his might. As he got warm over it he =
put
his little coat off and threw it on the straw. In his terror lest he should=
not
get done in time he kept constantly cutting, and in his haste, without noti=
cing
it, he chopped his little coat as well as the straw. He became aware of the
misfortune too late; there was no repairing it. "Ah," cried he,
"now all is over with me! The wicked man did not threaten me for nothi=
ng;
if he comes back and sees what I have done, he will kill me. Rather than th=
at I
will take my own life."
The
boy had once heard the farmer's wife say, "I have a pot with poison in=
it
under my bed." She, however, had only said that to keep away greedy pe=
ople,
for there was honey in it. The boy crept under the bed, brought out the pot,
and ate all that was in it. "I do not know," said he, "folks=
say
death is bitter, but it tastes very sweet to me. It is no wonder that the
farmer's wife has so often longed for death." He seated himself in a l=
ittle
chair, and was prepared to die. But instead of becoming weaker he felt hims=
elf
strengthened by the nourishing food. "It cannot have been poison,"
thought he, "but the farmer once said there was a small bottle of pois=
on
for flies in the box in which he keeps his clothes; that, no doubt, will be=
the
true poison, and bring death to me." It was, however, no poison for fl=
ies,
but Hungarian wine. The boy got out the bottle, and emptied it. "This
death tastes sweet too," said he, but shortly after when the wine bega=
n to
mount into his brain and stupefy him, he thought his end was drawing near.
"I feel that I must die," said he, "I will go away to the
churchyard, and seek a grave." He staggered out, reached the churchyar=
d,
and laid himself in a newly dug grave. He lost his senses more and more. In=
the
neighbourhood was an inn where a wedding was being kept; when he heard the
music, he fancied he was already in Paradise, until at length he lost all
consciousness. The poor boy never awoke again; the heat of the strong wine =
and
the cold night-dew deprived him of life, and he remained in the grave in wh=
ich
he had laid himself.
When
the farmer heard the news of the boy's death he was terrified, and afraid of
being brought to justice indeed, his distress took such a powerful hold of =
him
that he fell fainting to the ground. His wife, who was standing on the hear=
th
with a pan of hot fat, ran to him to help him. But the flames darted against
the pan, the whole house caught fire, in a few hours it lay in ashes, and t=
he
rest of the years they had to live they passed in poverty and misery, torme=
nted
by the pangs of conscience.
There
was once on a time a girl who was young and beautiful, but she had lost her
mother when she was quite a child, and her step-mother did all she could to
make the girl's life wretched. Whenever this woman gave her anything to do,=
she
worked at it indefatigably, and did everything that lay in her power. Still=
she
could not touch the heart of the wicked woman by that; she was never satisf=
ied;
it was never enough. The harder the girl worked, the more work was put upon
her, and all that the woman thought of was how to weigh her down with still
heavier burdens, and make her life still more miserable.
One
day she said to her, "Here are twelve pounds of feathers which thou mu=
st
pick, and if they are not done this evening, thou mayst expect a good beati=
ng.
Dost thou imagine thou art to idle away the whole day?" The poor girl =
sat
down to the work, but tears ran down her cheeks as she did so, for she saw
plainly enough that it was quite impossible to finish the work in one day.
Whenever she had a little heap of feathers lying before her, and she sighed=
or
smote her hands together in her anguish, they flew away, and she had to pick
them out again, and begin her work anew. Then she put her elbows on the tab=
le,
laid her face in her two hands, and cried, "Is there no one, then, on
God's earth to have pity on me?" Then she heard a low voice which said,
"Be comforted, my child, I have come to help thee." The maiden lo=
oked
up, and an old woman was by her side. She took the girl kindly by the hand,=
and
said, "Only tell me what is troubling thee." As she spoke so kind=
ly,
the girl told her of her miserable life, and how one burden after another w=
as
laid upon her, and she never could get to the end of the work which was giv=
en
to her. "If I have not done these feathers by this evening, my step-mo=
ther
will beat me; she has threatened she will, and I know she keeps her word.&q=
uot;
Her tears began to flow again, but the good old woman said, "Do not be
afraid, my child; rest a while, and in the meantime I will look to thy
work." The girl lay down on her bed, and soon fell asleep. The old wom=
an
seated herself at the table with the feathers, and how they did fly off the
quills, which she scarcely touched with her withered hands! The twelve poun=
ds were
soon finished, and when the girl awoke, great snow-white heaps were lying,
piled up, and everything in the room was neatly cleared away, but the old w=
oman
had vanished. The maiden thanked God, and sat still till evening came, when=
the
step-mother came in and marvelled to see the work completed. "Just loo=
k,
you awkward creature," said she, "what can be done when people are
industrious; and why couldst thou not set about something else? There thou
sittest with thy hands crossed." When she went out she said, "The
creature is worth more than her salt. I must give her some work that is sti=
ll
harder."
Next
morning she called the girl, and said, "There is a spoon for thee; with
that thou must empty out for me the great pond which is beside the garden, =
and
if it is not done by night, thou knowest what will happen." The girl t=
ook
the spoon, and saw that it was full of holes; but even if it had not been, =
she
never could have emptied the pond with it. She set to work at once, knelt d=
own
by the water, into which her tears were falling, and began to empty it. But=
the
good old woman appeared again, and when she learnt the cause of her grief, =
she
said, "Be of good cheer, my child. Go into the thicket and lie down and
sleep; I will soon do thy work." As soon as the old woman was alone, s=
he
barely touched the pond, and a vapour rose up on high from the water, and
mingled itself with the clouds. Gradually the pond was emptied, and when the
maiden awoke before sunset and came thither, she saw nothing but the fishes
which were struggling in the mud. She went to her step-mother, and showed h=
er that
the work was done. "It ought to have been done long before this,"=
said
she, and grew white with anger, but she meditated something new.
On the
third morning she said to the girl, "Thou must build me a castle on the
plain there, and it must be ready by the evening." The maiden was dism=
ayed,
and said, "How can I complete such a great work?" "I will en=
dure
no opposition," screamed the step-mother. "If thou canst empty a =
pond
with a spoon that is full of holes, thou canst build a castle too. I will t=
ake possession
of it this very day, and if anything is wanting, even if it be the most
trifling thing in the kitchen or cellar, thou knowest what lies before
thee!" She drove the girl out, and when she entered the valley, the ro=
cks
were there, piled up one above the other, and all her strength would not ha=
ve
enabled her even to move the very smallest of them. She sat down and wept, =
and
still she hoped the old woman would help her. The old woman was not long in
coming; she comforted her and said, "Lie down there in the shade and
sleep, and I will soon build the castle for thee. If it would be a pleasure=
to
thee, thou canst live in it thyself." When the maiden had gone away, t=
he
old woman touched the gray rocks. They began to rise, and immediately moved
together as if giants had built the walls; and on these the building arose,=
and
it seemed as if countless hands were working invisibly, and placing one sto=
ne
upon another. There was a dull heavy noise from the ground; pillars arose of
their own accord on high, and placed themselves in order near each other. T=
he
tiles laid themselves in order on the roof, and when noon-day came, the gre=
at
weather-cock was already turning itself on the summit of the tower, like a
golden figure of the Virgin with fluttering garments. The inside of the cas=
tle
was being finished while evening was drawing near. How the old woman managed
it, I know not; but the walls of the rooms were hung with silk and velvet, =
embroidered
chairs were there, and richly ornamented arm-chairs by marble tables; cryst=
al
chandeliers hung down from the ceilings, and mirrored themselves in the smo=
oth
pavement; green parrots were there in gilt cages, and so were strange birds
which sang most beautifully, and there was on all sides as much magnificenc=
e as
if a king were going to live there. The sun was just setting when the girl
awoke, and the brightness of a thousand lights flashed in her face. She hur=
ried
to the castle, and entered by the open door. The steps were spread with red=
cloth,
and the golden balustrade beset with flowering trees. When she saw the
splendour of the apartment, she stood as if turned to stone. Who knows how =
long
she might have stood there if she had not remembered the step-mother?
"Alas!" she said to herself, "if she could but be satisfied =
at
last, and would give up making my life a misery to me." The girl went =
and
told her that the castle was ready. "I will move into it at once,"=
; said
she, and rose from her seat. When they entered the castle, she was forced to
hold her hand before her eyes, the brilliancy of everything was so dazzling.
"Thou seest," said she to the girl, "how easy it has been for
thee to do this; I ought to have given thee something harder." She went
through all the rooms, and examined every corner to see if anything was wan=
ting
or defective; but she could discover nothing. "Now we will go down
below," said she, looking at the girl with malicious eyes. "The k=
itchen
and the cellar still have to be examined, and if thou hast forgotten anythi=
ng
thou shalt not escape thy punishment." But the fire was burning on the
hearth, and the meat was cooking in the pans, the tongs and shovel were lea=
ning
against the wall, and the shining brazen utensils all arranged in sight.
Nothing was wanting, not even a coal-box and water-pail. "Which is the=
way
to the cellar?" she cried. "If that is not abundantly filled, it
shall go ill with thee." She herself raised up the trap-door and
descended; but she had hardly made two steps before the heavy trap-door whi=
ch was
only laid back, fell down. The girl heard a scream, lifted up the door very
quickly to go to her aid, but she had fallen down, and the girl found her l=
ying
lifeless at the bottom.
And
now the magnificent castle belonged to the girl alone. She at first did not
know how to reconcile herself to her good fortune. Beautiful dresses were
hanging in the wardrobes, the chests were filled with gold or silver, or wi=
th
pearls and jewels, and she never felt a desire that she was not able to
gratify. And soon the fame of the beauty and riches of the maiden went over=
all
the world. Wooers presented themselves daily, but none pleased her. At leng=
th
the son of the King came and he knew how to touch her heart, and she betrot=
hed
herself to him. In the garden of the castle was a lime-tree, under which th=
ey
were one day sitting together, when he said to her, "I will go home and
obtain my father's consent to our marriage. I entreat thee to wait for me h=
ere
under this lime-tree, I shall be back with thee in a few hours." The m=
aiden
kissed him on his left cheek, and said, "Keep true to me, and never let
any one else kiss thee on this cheek. I will wait here under the lime-tree
until thou returnest."
The
maid stayed beneath the lime-tree until sunset, but he did not return. She =
sat
three days from morning till evening, waiting for him, but in vain. As he s=
till
was not there by the fourth day, she said, "Some accident has assuredly
befallen him. I will go out and seek him, and will not come back until I ha=
ve
found him." She packed up three of her most beautiful dresses, one
embroidered with bright stars, the second with silver moons, the third with
golden suns, tied up a handful of jewels in her handkerchief, and set out. =
She
inquired everywhere for her betrothed, but no one had seen him; no one knew
anything about him. Far and wide did she wander through the world, but she
found him not. At last she hired herself to a farmer as a cow-herd, and bur=
ied her
dresses and jewels beneath a stone.
And
now she lived as a herdswoman, guarded her herd, and was very sad and full =
of
longing for her beloved one; she had a little calf which she taught to know
her, and fed it out of her own hand, and when she said,
"Little
calf, little calf, kneel by my side, And do not forget thy shepherd-maid, As
the prince forgot his betrothed bride, Who waited for him 'neath the
lime-tree's shade."
the
little calf knelt down, and she stroked it.
And
when she had lived for a couple of years alone and full of grief, a report =
was
spread over all the land that the King's daughter was about to celebrate her
marriage. The road to the town passed through the village where the maiden =
was
living, and it came to pass that once when the maiden was driving out her h=
erd,
her bridegroom travelled by. He was sitting proudly on his horse, and never
looked round, but when she saw him she recognized her beloved, and it was j=
ust
as if a sharp knife had pierced her heart. "Alas!" said she, &quo=
t;I
believed him true to me, but he has forgotten me."
Next
day he again came along the road. When he was near her she said to the litt=
le
calf,
"Little
calf, little calf, kneel by my side, And do not forget thy shepherd-maid, As
the prince forgot his betrothed bride, Who waited for him 'neath the
lime-tree's shade."
When
he was aware of the voice, he looked down and reined in his horse. He looked
into the herd's face, and then put his hands before his eyes as if he were
trying to remember something, but he soon rode onwards and was out of sight.
"Alas!" said she, "he no longer knows me," and her grief
was ever greater.
Soon
after this a great festival three days long was to be held at the King's co=
urt,
and the whole country was invited to it.
"Now
will I try my last chance," thought the maiden, and when evening came =
she
went to the stone under which she had buried her treasures. She took out the
dress with the golden suns, put it on, and adorned herself with the jewels.=
She
let down her hair, which she had concealed under a handkerchief, and it fell
down in long curls about her, and thus she went into the town, and in the
darkness was observed by no one. When she entered the brightly-lighted hall,
every one started back in amazement, but no one knew who she was. The King's
son went to meet her, but he did not recognize her. He led her out to dance,
and was so enchanted with her beauty, that he thought no more of the other
bride. When the feast was over, she vanished in the crowd, and hastened bef=
ore
daybreak to the village, where she once more put on her herd's dress.
Next
evening she took out the dress with the silver moons, and put a half-moon m=
ade
of precious stones in her hair. When she appeared at the festival, all eyes
were turned upon her, but the King's son hastened to meet her, and filled w=
ith
love for her, danced with her alone, and no longer so much as glanced at an=
yone
else. Before she went away she was forced to promise him to come again to t=
he
festival on the last evening.
When
she appeared for the third time, she wore the star-dress which sparkled at
every step she took, and her hair-ribbon and girdle were starred with jewel=
s.
The prince had already been waiting for her for a long time, and forced his=
way
up to her. "Do but tell who thou art," said he, "I feel just=
as
if I had already known thee a long time." "Dost thou not know wha=
t I
did when thou leftest me?" Then she stepped up to him, and kissed him =
on
his left cheek, and in a moment it was as if scales fell from his eyes, and=
he
recognized the true bride. "Come," said he to her, "here I s=
tay
no longer," gave her his hand, and led her down to the carriage. The
horses hurried away to the magic castle as if the wind had been harnessed to
the carriage. The illuminated windows already shone in the distance. When t=
hey
drove past the lime-tree, countless glow-worms were swarming about it. It s=
hook
its branches, and sent forth their fragrance. On the steps flowers were
blooming, and the room echoed with the song of strange birds, but in the ha=
ll
the entire court was assembled, and the priest was waiting to marry the
bridegroom to the true bride.
This
story, my dear young folks, seems to be false, but it really is true, for my
grandfather, from whom I have it, used always, when relating it, to say
complacently, "It must be true, my son, or else no one could tell it to
you." The story is as follows. One Sunday morning about harvest time, =
just
as the buckwheat was in bloom, the sun was shining brightly in heaven, the =
east
wind was blowing warmly over the stubble-fields, the larks were singing in =
the
air, the bees buzzing among the buckwheat, the people were all going in the=
ir
Sunday clothes to church, and all creatures were happy, and the hedgehog was
happy too.
The
hedgehog, however, was standing by his door with his arms akimbo, enjoying =
the
morning breezes, and slowly trilling a little song to himself, which was
neither better nor worse than the songs which hedgehogs are in the habit of
singing on a blessed Sunday morning. Whilst he was thus singing half aloud =
to
himself, it suddenly occurred to him that, while his wife was washing and
drying the children, he might very well take a walk into the field, and see=
how
his turnips were going on. The turnips were, in fact, close beside his hous=
e,
and he and his family were accustomed to eat them, for which reason he look=
ed
upon them as his own. No sooner said than done. The hedgehog shut the
house-door behind him, and took the path to the field. He had not gone very=
far
from home, and was just turning round the sloe-bush which stands there outs=
ide
the field, to go up into the turnip-field, when he observed the hare who ha=
d gone
out on business of the same kind, namely, to visit his cabbages. When the
hedgehog caught sight of the hare, he bade him a friendly good morning. But=
the
hare, who was in his own way a distinguished gentleman, and frightfully
haughty, did not return the hedgehog's greeting, but said to him, assuming =
at
the same time a very contemptuous manner, "How do you happen to be run=
ning
about here in the field so early in the morning?" "I am taking a =
walk,"
said the hedgehog. "A walk!" said the hare, with a smile. "It
seems to me that you might use your legs for a better purpose." This
answer made the hedgehog furiously angry, for he can bear anything but an
attack on his legs, just because they are crooked by nature. So now the
hedgehog said to the hare, "You seem to imagine that you can do more w=
ith
your legs than I with mine." "That is just what I do think,"
said the hare. "That can be put to the test," said the hedgehog.
"I wager that if we run a race, I will outstrip you." "That =
is
ridiculous! You with your short legs!" said the hare, "but for my
part I am willing, if you have such a monstrous fancy for it. What shall we
wager?" "A golden louis-d'or and a bottle of brandy," said t=
he
hedgehog. "Done," said the hare. "Shake hands on it, and the=
n we
may as well come off at once." "Nay," said the hedgehog,
"there is no such great hurry! I am still fasting, I will go home firs=
t,
and have a little breakfast. In half-an-hour I will be back again at this
place."
Hereupon
the hedgehog departed, for the hare was quite satisfied with this. On his w=
ay
the hedgehog thought to himself, "The hare relies on his long legs, bu=
t I
will contrive to get the better of him. He may be a great man, but he is a =
very
silly fellow, and he shall pay for what he has said." So when the hedg=
ehog
reached home, he said to his wife, "Wife, dress thyself quickly, thou =
must
go out to the field with me." "What is going on, then?" said=
his
wife. "I have made a wager with the hare, for a gold louis-d'or and a
bottle of brandy. I am to run a race with him, and thou must be present.&qu=
ot;
"Good heavens, husband," the wife now cried, "art thou not r=
ight
in thy mind, hast thou completely lost thy wits? What can make thee want to=
run
a race with the hare?" "Hold thy tongue, woman," said the
hedgehog, "that is my affair. Don't begin to discuss things which are
matters for men. Be off, dress thyself, and come with me." What could =
the
hedgehog's wife do? She was forced to obey him, whether she liked it or not=
.
So
when they had set out on their way together, the hedgehog said to his wife,
"Now pay attention to what I am going to say. Look you, I will make the
long field our race-course. The hare shall run in one furrow, and I in anot=
her,
and we will begin to run from the top. Now all that thou hast to do is to p=
lace
thyself here below in the furrow, and when the hare arrives at the end of t=
he
furrow, on the other side of thee, thou must cry out to him, 'I am here
already!'"
Then
they reached the field, and the hedgehog showed his wife her place, and then
walked up the field. When he reached the top, the hare was already there.
"Shall we start?" said the hare. "Certainly," said the =
hedgehog.
"Then both at once." So saying, each placed himself in his own
furrow. The hare counted, "Once, twice, thrice, and away!" and we=
nt off
like a whirlwind down the field. The hedgehog, however, only ran about three
paces, and then he stooped down in the furrow, and stayed quietly where he =
was.
When the hare therefore arrived in full career at the lower end of the fiel=
d,
the hedgehog's wife met him with the cry, "I am here already!" The
hare was shocked and wondered not a little, he thought no other than that it
was the hedgehog himself who was calling to him, for the hedgehog's wife lo=
oked
just like her husband. The hare, however, thought to himself, "That has
not been done fairly," and cried, "It must be run again, let us h=
ave
it again." And once more he went off like the wind in a storm, so that=
he
seemed to fly. But the hedgehog's wife stayed quietly in her place. So when=
the
hare reached the top of the field, the hedgehog himself cried out to him,
"I am here already." The hare, however, quite beside himself with
anger, cried, "It must be run again, we must have it again."
"All right," answered the hedgehog, "for my part we'll run as
often as you choose." So the hare ran seventy-three times more, and the
hedgehog always held out against him, and every time the hare reached either
the top or the bottom, either the hedgehog or his wife said, "I am here
already."
At the
seventy-fourth time, however, the hare could no longer reach the end. In the
middle of the field he fell to the ground, blood streamed out of his mouth,=
and
he lay dead on the spot. But the hedgehog took the louis-d'or which he had =
won
and the bottle of brandy, called his wife out of the furrow, and both went =
home
together in great delight, and if they are not dead, they are living there
still.
This
is how it happened that the hedgehog made the hare run races with him on the
Buxtehuder heath till he died, and since that time no hare has ever had any
fancy for running races with a Buxtehuder hedgehog.
The moral of this story, however, is, firstly, that no one, however great he may be, should permit himself to jest at any one beneath him, even if he be onl= y a hedgehog. And, secondly, it teaches, that when a man marries, he should tak= e a wife in his own position, who looks just as he himself looks. So whosoever = is a hedgehog let him see to it that his wife is a hedgehog also, and so forth.<= o:p>
There
was once a girl whose father and mother died while she was still a little
child. All alone, in a small house at the end of the village, dwelt her
godmother, who supported herself by spinning, weaving, and sewing. The old
woman took the forlorn child to live with her, kept her to her work, and
educated her in all that is good. When the girl was fifteen years old, the =
old
woman became ill, called the child to her bedside, and said, "Dear
daughter, I feel my end drawing near. I leave thee the little house, which =
will
protect thee from wind and weather, and my spindle, shuttle, and needle, wi=
th
which thou canst earn thy bread." Then she laid her hands on the girl's
head, blessed her, and said, "Only preserve the love of God in thy hea=
rt,
and all will go well with thee." Thereupon she closed her eyes, and wh=
en
she was laid in the earth, the maiden followed the coffin, weeping bitterly,
and paid her the last mark of respect. And now the maiden lived quite alone=
in
the little house, and was industrious, and span, wove, and sewed, and the b=
lessing
of the good old woman was on all that she did. It seemed as if the flax in =
the
room increased of its own accord, and whenever she wove a piece of cloth or
carpet, or had made a shirt, she at once found a buyer who paid her amply f=
or
it, so that she was in want of nothing, and even had something to share with
others.
About
this time, the son of the King was travelling about the country looking for=
a
bride. He was not to choose a poor one, and did not want to have a rich one=
. So
he said, "She shall be my wife who is the poorest, and at the same time
the richest." When he came to the village where the maiden dwelt, he
inquired, as he did wherever he went, who was the richest and also the poor=
est
girl in the place? They first named the richest; the poorest, they said, was
the girl who lived in the small house quite at the end of the village. The =
rich
girl was sitting in all her splendour before the door of her house, and when
the prince approached her, she got up, went to meet him, and made him a low
curtsey. He looked at her, said nothing, and rode on. When he came to the h=
ouse
of the poor girl, she was not standing at the door, but sitting in her litt=
le
room. He stopped his horse, and saw through the window, on which the bright=
sun
was shining, the girl sitting at her spinning-wheel, busily spinning. She
looked up, and when she saw that the prince was looking in, she blushed all
over her face, let her eyes fall, and went on spinning. I do not know wheth=
er,
just at that moment, the thread was quite even; but she went on spinning un=
til the
King's son had ridden away again. Then she went to the window, opened it, a=
nd
said, "It is so warm in this room!" but she still looked after hi=
m as
long as she could distinguish the white feathers in his hat. Then she sat d=
own
to work again in her own room and went on with her spinning, and a saying w=
hich
the old woman had often repeated when she was sitting at her work, came into
her mind, and she sang these words to herself,---
"Spindle, my spindle, haste, h=
aste
thee away, And here to my house bring the wooe=
r, I
pray."
And
what do you think happened? The spindle sprang out of her hand in an instan=
t,
and out of the door, and when, in her astonishment, she got up and looked a=
fter
it, she saw that it was dancing out merrily into the open country, and draw=
ing
a shining golden thread after it. Before long, it had entirely vanished from
her sight. As she had now no spindle, the girl took the weaver's shuttle in=
her
hand, sat down to her loom, and began to weave.
The
spindle, however, danced continually onwards, and just as the thread came t=
o an
end, reached the prince. "What do I see?" he cried; "the spi=
ndle
certainly wants to show me the way!" turned his horse about, and rode =
back
with the golden thread. The girl was, however, sitting at her work singing,=
"Shuttle, my shuttle, weave we=
ll
this day, And guide the wooer to me, I pray.&=
quot;
Immediately
the shuttle sprang out of her hand and out by the door. Before the threshol=
d,
however, it began to weave a carpet which was more beautiful than the eyes =
of
man had ever yet beheld. Lilies and roses blossomed on both sides of it, an=
d on
a golden ground in the centre green branches ascended, under which bounded
hares and rabbits, stags and deer stretched their heads in between them,
brightly-coloured birds were sitting in the branches above; they lacked not=
hing
but the gift of song. The shuttle leapt hither and thither, and everything =
seemed
to grow of its own accord.
As the
shuttle had run away, the girl sat down to sew. She held the needle in her =
hand
and sang,
"Needle, my needle, sharp-poin=
ted
and fine, Prepare for a wooer this house of
mine."
Then
the needle leapt out of her fingers, and flew everywhere about the room as
quick as lightning. It was just as if invisible spirits were working; they
covered tables and benches with green cloth in an instant, and the chairs w=
ith
velvet, and hung the windows with silken curtains. Hardly had the needle pu=
t in
the last stitch than the maiden saw through the window the white feathers of
the prince, whom the spindle had brought thither by the golden thread. He
alighted, stepped over the carpet into the house, and when he entered the r=
oom,
there stood the maiden in her poor garments, but she shone out from within =
them
like a rose surrounded by leaves. "Thou art the poorest and also the
richest," said he to her. "Come with me, thou shalt be my
bride." She did not speak, but she gave him her hand. Then he gave her=
a
kiss, led her forth, lifted her on to his horse, and took her to the royal
castle, where the wedding was solemnized with great rejoicings. The spindle,
shuttle, and needle were preserved in the treasure-chamber, and held in gre=
at
honour.
There
was once on a time a far-sighted, crafty peasant whose tricks were much tal=
ked
about. The best story is, however, how he once got hold of the Devil, and m=
ade
a fool of him. The peasant had one day been working in his field, and as
twilight had set in, was making ready for the journey home, when he saw a h=
eap
of burning coals in the middle of his field, and when, full of astonishment=
, he
went up to it, a little black devil was sitting on the live coals. "Th=
ou
dost indeed sit upon a treasure!" said the peasant. "Yes, in
truth," replied the Devil, "on a treasure which contains more gold
and silver than thou hast ever seen in thy life!" "The treasure l=
ies
in my field and belongs to me," said the peasant. "It is thine,&q=
uot;
answered the Devil, "if thou wilt for two years give me the half of
everything thy field produces. Money I have enough of, but I have a desire =
for
the fruits of the earth." The peasant agreed to the bargain. "In
order, however, that no dispute may arise about the division," said he,
"everything that is above ground shall belong to thee, and what is und=
er
the earth to me." The Devil was quite satisfied with that, but the cun=
ning
peasant had sown turnips.
Now
when the time for harvest came, the Devil appeared and wanted to take away =
his
crop; but he found nothing but the yellow withered leaves, while the peasan=
t,
full of delight, was digging up his turnips. "Thou hast had the best o=
f it
for once," said the Devil, "but the next time that won't do. What
grows above ground shall be thine, and what is under it, mine." "=
I am
willing," replied the peasant; but when the time came to sow, he did n=
ot
again sow turnips, but wheat. The grain became ripe, and the peasant went i=
nto
the field and cut the full stalks down to the ground. When the Devil came, =
he
found nothing but the stubble, and went away in a fury down into a cleft in=
the
rocks. "That is the way to cheat the Devil," said the peasant, and
went and fetched away the treasure.
A countryman
one day said to his little puppies, "Come into the parlour and enjoy
yourselves, and pick up the bread-crumbs on the table; your mistress has go=
ne
out to pay some visits." Then the little dogs said, "No, no, we w=
ill
not go. If the mistress gets to know it, she will beat us." The countr=
yman
said, "She will know nothing about it. Do come; after all, she never g=
ives
you anything good." Then the little dogs again said, "Nay, nay, we
must let it alone; we must not go." But the countryman let them have no
peace until at last they went, and got on the table, and ate up the
bread-crumbs with all their might. But at that very moment the mistress cam=
e,
and seized the stick in great haste, and beat them and treated them very
hardly. And when they were outside the house, the little dogs said to the
countryman, "Dost, dost, dost, dost, dost thou see?" Then the
countryman laughed and said, "Didn't, didn't, didn't, you expect it?&q=
uot;
So they just had to run away.
There
was once upon a time a princess, who, high under the battlements in her cas=
tle,
had an apartment with twelve windows, which looked out in every possible
direction, and when she climbed up to it and looked around her, she could
inspect her whole kingdom. When she looked out of the first, her sight was =
more
keen than that of any other human being; from the second she could see still
better, from the third more distinctly still, and so it went on, until the
twelfth, from which she saw everything above the earth and under the earth,=
and
nothing at all could be kept secret from her. Moreover, as she was haughty,=
and
would be subject to no one, but wished to keep the dominion for herself alo=
ne, she
caused it to be proclaimed that no one should ever be her husband who could=
not
conceal himself from her so effectually, that it should be quite impossible=
for
her to find him. He who tried this, however, and was discovered by her, was=
to
have his head struck off, and stuck on a post. Ninety-seven posts with the
heads of dead men were already standing before the castle, and no one had c=
ome
forward for a long time. The princess was delighted, and thought to herself,
"Now I shall be free as long as I live." Then three brothers appe=
ared
before her, and announced to her that they were desirous of trying their lu=
ck.
The eldest believed he would be quite safe if he crept into a lime-pit, but=
she
saw him from the first window, made him come out, and had his head cut off.=
The
second crept into the cellar of the palace, but she perceived him also from=
the
first window, and his fate was sealed. His head was placed on the nine and
ninetieth post. Then the youngest came to her and entreated her to give him=
a
day for consideration, and also to be so gracious as to overlook it if she
should happen to discover him twice, but if he failed the third time, he wo=
uld
look on his life as over. As he was so handsome, and begged so earnestly, s=
he
said, "Yes, I will grant thee that, but thou wilt not succeed."
Next
day he meditated for a long time how he should hide himself, but all in vai=
n.
Then he seized his gun and went out hunting. He saw a raven, took a good ai=
m at
him, and was just going to fire, when the bird cried, "Don't shoot; I =
will
make it worth thy while not." He put his gun down, went on, and came t=
o a
lake where he surprised a large fish which had come up from the depths belo=
w to
the surface of the water. When he had aimed at it, the fish cried, "Do=
n't
shoot, and I will make it worth thy while." He allowed it to dive down
again, went onwards, and met a fox which was lame. He fired and missed it, =
and
the fox cried, "You had much better come here and draw the thorn out o=
f my
foot for me." He did this; but then he wanted to kill the fox and skin=
it,
the fox said, "Stop, and I will make it worth thy while." The you=
th let
him go, and then as it was evening, returned home.
Next
day he was to hide himself; but howsoever much he puzzled his brains over i=
t,
he did not know where. He went into the forest to the raven and said, "=
;I
let thee live on, so now tell me where I am to hide myself, so that the Kin=
g's
daughter shall not see me." The raven hung his head and thought it over
for a longtime. At length he croaked, "I have it." He fetched an =
egg
out of his nest, cut it into two parts, and shut the youth inside it; then =
made
it whole again, and seated himself on it. When the King's daughter went to =
the
first window she could not discover him, nor could she from the others, and=
she
began to be uneasy, but from the eleventh she saw him. She ordered the rave=
n to
be shot, and the egg to be brought and broken, and the youth was forced to =
come
out. She said, "For once thou art excused, but if thou dost not do bet=
ter
than this, thou art lost!"
Next
day he went to the lake, called the fish to him and said, "I suffered =
thee
to live, now tell me where to hide myself so that the King's daughter may n=
ot
see me." The fish thought for a while, and at last cried, "I have=
it!
I will shut thee up in my stomach." He swallowed him, and went down to=
the
bottom of the lake. The King's daughter looked through her windows, and even
from the eleventh did not see him, and was alarmed; but at length from the
twelfth she saw him. She ordered the fish to be caught and killed, and then=
the
youth appeared. Every one can imagine what a state of mind he was in. She s=
aid,
"Twice thou art forgiven, but be sure that thy head will be set on the
hundredth post."
On the
last day, he went with a heavy heart into the country, and met the fox.
"Thou knowest how to find all kinds of hiding-places," said he;
"I let thee live, now advise me where I shall hide myself so that the
King's daughter shall not discover me." "That's a hard task,"
answered the fox, looking very thoughtful. At length he cried, "I have
it!" and went with him to a spring, dipped himself in it, and came out=
as
a stall-keeper in the market, and dealer in animals. The youth had to dip
himself in the water also, and was changed into a small sea-hare. The merch=
ant
went into the town, and showed the pretty little animal, and many persons g=
athered
together to see it. At length the King's daughter came likewise, and as she
liked it very much, she bought it, and gave the merchant a good deal of mon=
ey
for it. Before he gave it over to her, he said to it, "When the King's
daughter goes to the window, creep quickly under the braids of he hair.&quo=
t;
And now the time arrived when she was to search for him. She went to one wi=
ndow
after another in turn, from the first to the eleventh, and did not see him.
When she did not see him from the twelfth either, she was full of anxiety a=
nd
anger, and shut it down with such violence that the glass in every window
shivered into a thousand pieces, and the whole castle shook.
She
went back and felt the sea-hare beneath the braids of her hair. Then she se=
ized
it, and threw it on the ground exclaiming, "Away with thee, get out of=
my
sight!" It ran to the merchant, and both of them hurried to the spring,
wherein they plunged, and received back their true forms. The youth thanked=
the
fox, and said, "The raven and the fish are idiots compared with thee; =
thou
knowest the right tune to play, there is no denying that!"
The
youth went straight to the palace. The princess was already expecting him, =
and
accommodated herself to her destiny. The wedding was solemnized, and now he=
was
king, and lord of all the kingdom. He never told her where he had concealed
himself for the third time, and who had helped him, so she believed that he=
had
done everything by his own skill, and she had a great respect for him, for =
she
thought to herself, "He is able to do more than I."
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>192 The Master-Thief<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
One
day an old man and his wife were sitting in front of a miserable house rest=
ing
a while from their work. Suddenly a splendid carriage with four black horses
came driving up, and a richly-dressed man descended from it. The peasant st=
ood
up, went to the great man, and asked what he wanted, and in what way he cou=
ld
be useful to him? The stranger stretched out his hand to the old man, and s=
aid,
"I want nothing but to enjoy for once a country dish; cook me some
potatoes, in the way you always have them, and then I will sit down at your
table and eat them with pleasure." The peasant smiled and said, "=
You
are a count or a prince, or perhaps even a duke; noble gentlemen often have
such fancies, but you shall have your wish." The wife went into the
kitchen, and began to wash and rub the potatoes, and to make them into ball=
s, as
they are eaten by the country-folks. Whilst she was busy with this work, the
peasant said to the stranger, "Come into my garden with me for a while=
, I
have still something to do there." He had dug some holes in the garden,
and now wanted to plant some trees in them. "Have you no children,&quo=
t;
asked the stranger, "who could help you with your work?"
"No," answered the peasant, "I had a son, it is true, but it=
is
long since he went out into the world. He was a ne'er-do-well; sharp, and
knowing, but he would learn nothing and was full of bad tricks, at last he =
ran away
from me, and since then I have heard nothing of him."
The
old man took a young tree, put it in a hole, drove in a post beside it, and
when he had shovelled in some earth and had trampled it firmly down, he tied
the stem of the tree above, below, and in the middle, fast to the post by a
rope of straw. "But tell me," said the stranger, "why you do=
n't
tie that crooked knotted tree, which is lying in the corner there, bent down
almost to the ground, to a post also that it may grow straight, as well as
these?" The old man smiled and said, "Sir, you speak according to
your knowledge, it is easy to see that you are not familiar with gardening.
That tree there is old, and mis-shapen, no one can make it straight now. Tr=
ees
must be trained while they are young." "That is how it was with y=
our
son," said the stranger, "if you had trained him while he was sti=
ll
young, he would not have run away; now he too must have grown hard and
mis-shapen." "Truly it is a long time since he went away,"
replied the old man, "he must have changed." "Would you know=
him
again if he were to come to you?" asked the stranger. "Hardly by =
his
face," replied the peasant, "but he has a mark about him, a
birth-mark on his shoulder, that looks like a bean." When he had said =
that
the stranger pulled off his coat, bared his shoulder, and showed the peasant
the bean. "Good God!" cried the old man, "Thou art really my
son!" and love for his child stirred in his heart. "But," he
added, "how canst thou be my son, thou hast become a great lord and li=
vest
in wealth and luxury? How hast thou contrived to do that?" "Ah, f=
ather,"
answered the son, "the young tree was bound to no post and has grown
crooked, now it is too old, it will never be straight again. How have I got=
all
that? I have become a thief, but do not be alarmed, I am a master-thief. Fo=
r me
there are neither locks nor bolts, whatsoever I desire is mine. Do not imag=
ine
that I steal like a common thief, I only take some of the superfluity of the
rich. Poor people are safe, I would rather give to them than take anything =
from
them. It is the same with anything which I can have without trouble, cunning
and dexterity I never touch it." "Alas, my son," said the
father, "it still does not please me, a thief is still a thief, I tell
thee it will end badly." He took him to his mother, and when she heard
that was her son, she wept for joy, but when he told her that he had become=
a
master-thief, two streams flowed down over her face. At length she said,
"Even if he has become a thief, he is still my son, and my eyes have
beheld him once more." They sat down to table, and once again he ate w=
ith
his parents the wretched food which he had not eaten for so long. The father
said, "If our Lord, the count up there in the castle, learns who thou =
art,
and what trade thou followest, he will not take thee in his arms and cradle=
thee
in them as he did when he held thee at the font, but will cause thee to swi=
ng
from a halter." "Be easy, father, he will do me no harm, for I
understand my trade. I will go to him myself this very day." When even=
ing
drew near, the master-thief seated himself in his carriage, and drove to the
castle. The count received him civilly, for he took him for a distinguished
man. When, however, the stranger made himself known, the count turned pale =
and
was quite silent for some time. At length he said, "Thou art my godson,
and on that account mercy shall take the place of justice, and I will deal
leniently with thee. Since thou pridest thyself on being a master-thief, I =
will
put thy art to the proof, but if thou dost not stand the test, thou must ma=
rry
the rope-maker's daughter, and the croaking of the raven must be thy music =
on
the occasion." "Lord count," answered the master-thief,
"Think of three things, as difficult as you like, and if I do not perf=
orm
your tasks, do with me what you will." The count reflected for some
minutes, and then said, "Well, then, in the first place, thou shalt st=
eal
the horse I keep for my own riding, out of the stable; in the next, thou sh=
alt
steal the sheet from beneath the bodies of my wife and myself when we are
asleep, without our observing it, and the wedding-ring of my wife as well;
thirdly and lastly, thou shalt steal away out of the church, the parson and
clerk. Mark what I am saying, for thy life depends on it."
The
master-thief went to the nearest town; there he bought the clothes of an old
peasant woman, and put them on. Then he stained his face brown, and painted
wrinkles on it as well, so that no one could have recognized him. Then he
filled a small cask with old Hungary wine in which was mixed a powerful
sleeping-drink. He put the cask in a basket, which he took on his back, and
walked with slow and tottering steps to the count's castle. It was already =
dark
when he arrived. He sat down on a stone in the court-yard and began to coug=
h,
like an asthmatic old woman, and to rub his hands as if he were cold. In fr=
ont
of the door of the stable some soldiers were lying round a fire; one of them
observed the woman, and called out to her, "Come nearer, old mother, a=
nd
warm thyself beside us. After all, thou hast no bed for the night, and must
take one where thou canst find it." The old woman tottered up to them,
begged them to lift the basket from her back, and sat down beside them at t=
he
fire. "What hast thou got in thy little cask, old lady?" asked on=
e.
"A good mouthful of wine," she answered. "I live by trade, f=
or
money and fair words I am quite ready to let you have a glass." "=
Let
us have it here, then," said the soldier, and when he had tasted one g=
lass
he said, "When wine is good, I like another glass," and had anoth=
er
poured out for himself, and the rest followed his example. "Hallo,
comrades," cried one of them to those who were in the stable, "he=
re
is an old goody who has wine that is as old as herself; take a draught, it =
will
warm your stomachs far better than our fire." The old woman carried her
cask into the stable. One of the soldiers had seated himself on the saddled
riding-horse, another held its bridle in his hand, a third had laid hold of=
its
tail. She poured out as much as they wanted until the spring ran dry. It was
not long before the bridle fell from the hand of the one, and he fell down =
and
began to snore, the other left hold of the tail, lay down and snored still
louder. The one who was sitting in the saddle, did remain sitting, but bent=
his
head almost down to the horse's neck, and slept and blew with his mouth like
the bellows of a forge. The soldiers outside had already been asleep for a =
long
time, and were lying on the ground motionless, as if dead. When the
master-thief saw that he had succeeded, he gave the first a rope in his hand
instead of the bridle, and the other who had been holding the tail, a wisp =
of
straw, but what was he to do with the one who was sitting on the horse's ba=
ck?
He did not want to throw him down, for he might have awakened and have utte=
red
a cry. He had a good idea, he unbuckled the girths of the saddle, tied a co=
uple
of ropes which were hanging to a ring on the wall fast to the saddle, and d=
rew
the sleeping rider up into the air on it, then he twisted the rope round the
posts, and made it fast. He soon unloosed the horse from the chain, but if =
he had
ridden over the stony pavement of the yard they would have heard the noise =
in
the castle. So he wrapped the horse's hoofs in old rags, led him carefully =
out,
leapt upon him, and galloped off.
When
day broke, the master galloped to the castle on the stolen horse. The count=
had
just got up, and was looking out of the window. "Good morning, Sir
Count," he cried to him, "here is the horse, which I have got saf=
ely out
of the stable! Just look, how beautifully your soldiers are lying there
sleeping; and if you will but go into the stable, you will see how comforta=
ble
your watchers have made it for themselves." The count could not help
laughing, then he said, "For once thou hast succeeded, but things won'=
t go
so well the second time, and I warn thee that if thou comest before me as a
thief, I will handle thee as I would a thief." When the countess went =
to
bed that night, she closed her hand with the wedding-ring tightly together,=
and
the count said, "All the doors are locked and bolted, I will keep awake
and wait for the thief, but if he gets in by the window, I will shoot
him." The master-thief, however, went in the dark to the gallows, cut a
poor sinner who was hanging there down from the halter, and carried him on =
his
back to the castle. Then he set a ladder up to the bedroom, put the dead bo=
dy
on his shoulders, and began to climb up. When he had got so high that the h=
ead
of the dead man showed at the window, the count, who was watching in his be=
d,
fired a pistol at him, and immediately the master let the poor sinner fall
down, and hid himself in one corner. The night was sufficiently lighted by =
the
moon, for the master to see distinctly how the count got out of the window =
on
to the ladder, came down, carried the dead body into the garden, and began =
to
dig a hole in which to lay it. "Now," thought the thief, "the
favourable moment has come," stole nimbly out of his corner, and climb=
ed
up the ladder straight into the countess's bedroom. "Dear wife," =
he
began in the count's voice, "the thief is dead, but, after all, he is =
my
godson, and has been more of a scape-grace than a villain. I will not put h=
im
to open shame; besides, I am sorry for the parents. I will bury him myself
before daybreak, in the garden that the thing may not be known, so give me =
the
sheet, I will wrap up the body in it, and bury him as a dog burries things =
by
scratching." The countess gave him the sheet. "I tell you what,&q=
uot;
continued the thief, "I have a fit of magnanimity on me, give me the r=
ing
too,---the unhappy man risked his life for it, so he may take it with him i=
nto
his grave." She would not gainsay the count, and although she did it
unwillingly she drew the ring from her finger, and gave it to him. The thief
made off with both these things, and reached home safely before the count in
the garden had finished his work of burying.
What a
long face the count did pull when the master came next morning, and brought=
him
the sheet and the ring. "Art thou a wizard?" said he, "Who h=
as
fetched thee out of the grave in which I myself laid thee, and brought thee=
to
life again?" "You did not bury me," said the thief, "but
the poor sinner on the gallows," and he told him exactly how everything
had happened, and the count was forced to own to him that he was a clever,
crafty thief. "But thou hast not reached the end yet," he added,
"thou hast still to perform the third task, and if thou dost not succe=
ed
in that, all is of no use." The master smiled and returned no answer. =
When
night had fallen he went with a long sack on his back, a bundle under his a=
rms,
and a lantern in his hand to the village-church. In the sack he had some cr=
abs,
and in the bundle short wax-candles. He sat down in the churchyard, took ou=
t a
crab, and stuck a wax-candle on his back. Then he lighted the little light,=
put
the crab on the ground, and let it creep about. He took a second out of the
sack, and treated it in the same way, and so on until the last was out of t=
he
sack. Hereupon he put on a long black garment that looked like a monk's cow=
l,
and stuck a gray beard on his chin. When at last he was quite unrecognizabl=
e, he
took the sack in which the crabs had been, went into the church, and ascend=
ed
the pulpit. The clock in the tower was just striking twelve; when the last
stroke had sounded, he cried with a loud and piercing voice, "Hearken,
sinful men, the end of all things has come! The last day is at hand! Hearke=
n!
Hearken! Whosoever wishes to go to heaven with me must creep into the sack.=
I
am Peter, who opens and shuts the gate of heaven. Behold how the dead outsi=
de
there in the churchyard, are wandering about collecting their bones. Come,
come, and creep into the sack; the world is about to be destroyed!" The
cry echoed through the whole village. The parson and clerk who lived neares=
t to
the church, heard it first, and when they saw the lights which were moving
about the churchyard, they observed that something unusual was going on, and
went into the church. They listened to the sermon for a while, and then the=
clerk
nudged the parson and said, "It would not be amiss if we were to use t=
he
opportunity together, and before the dawning of the last day, find an easy =
way
of getting to heaven." "To tell the truth," answered the par=
son,
"that is what I myself have been thinking, so if you are inclined, we =
will
set out on our way." "Yes," answered the clerk, "but yo=
u,
the pastor, have the precedence, I will follow." So the parson went fi=
rst,
and ascended the pulpit where the master opened his sack. The parson crept =
in
first, and then the clerk. The master immediately tied up the sack tightly,=
seized
it by the middle, and dragged it down the pulpit-steps, and whenever the he=
ads
of the two fools bumped against the steps, he cried, "We are going over
the mountains." Then he drew them through the village in the same way,=
and
when they were passing through puddles, he cried, "Now we are going
through wet clouds." And when at last he was dragging them up the step=
s of
the castle, he cried, "Now we are on the steps of heaven, and will soo=
n be
in the outer court." When he had got to the top, he pushed the sack in=
to
the pigeon-house, and when the pigeons fluttered about, he said, "Hark=
how
glad the angels are, and how they are flapping their wings!" Then he
bolted the door upon them, and went away.
Next
morning he went to the count, and told him that he had performed the third =
task
also, and had carried the parson and clerk out of the church. "Where h=
ast
thou left them?" asked the lord. "They are lying upstairs in a sa=
ck
in the pigeon-house, and imagine that they are in heaven." The count w=
ent
up himself, and convinced himself that the master had told the truth. When =
he
had delivered the parson and clerk from their captivity, he said, "Thou
art an arch-thief, and hast won thy wager. For once thou escapest with a wh=
ole
skin, but see that thou leavest my land, for if ever thou settest foot on it
again, thou may'st count on thy elevation to the gallows." The arch-th=
ief
took leave of his parents, once more went forth into the wide world, and no=
one
has ever heard of him since.
A
young drummer went out quite alone one evening into the country, and came t=
o a
lake on the shore of which he perceived three pieces of white linen lying.
"What fine linen," said he, and put one piece in his pocket. He
returned home, thought no more of what he had found, and went to bed. Just =
as
he was going to sleep, it seemed to him as if some one was saying his name.=
He
listened, and was aware of a soft voice which cried to him, "Drummer,
drummer, wake up!" As it was a dark night he could see no one, but it
appeared to him that a figure was hovering about his bed. "What do you
want?" he asked. "Give me back my dress," answered the voice,
"that you took away from me last evening by the lake." "You
shall have it back again," said the drummer, "if you will tell me=
who
you are." "Ah," replied the voice, "I am the daughter o=
f a
mighty King; but I have fallen into the power of a witch, and am shut up on=
the
glass-mountain. I have to bathe in the lake every day with my two sisters, =
but
I cannot fly back again without my dress. My sisters have gone away, but I =
have
been forced to stay behind. I entreat you to give me my dress back."
"Be easy, poor child," said the drummer. "I will willingly g=
ive
it back to you." He took it out of his pocket, and reached it to her in
the dark. She snatched it in haste, and wanted to go away with it. "St=
op a
moment, perhaps I can help you." "You can only help me by ascendi=
ng
the glass-mountain, and freeing me from the power of the witch. But you can=
not
come to the glass-mountain, and indeed if you were quite close to it you co=
uld
not ascend it." "When I want to do a thing I always can do it,&qu=
ot;
said the drummer; "I am sorry for you, and have no fear of anything. B=
ut I
do not know the way which leads to the glass-mountain." "The road
goes through the great forest, in which the man-eaters live," she
answered, "and more than that, I dare not tell you." And then he
heard her wings quiver, as she flew away.
By
daybreak the drummer arose, buckled on his drum, and went without fear stra=
ight
into the forest. After he had walked for a while without seeing any giants,=
he
thought to himself, "I must waken up the sluggards," and he hung =
his
drum before him, and beat such a reveille that the birds flew out of the tr=
ees
with loud cries. It was not long before a giant who had been lying sleeping
among the grass, rose up, and was as tall as a fir-tree. "Wretch!"
cried he; "what art thou drumming here for, and wakening me out of my =
best
sleep?" "I am drumming," he replied, "because I want to
show the way to many thousands who are following me." "What do th=
ey
want in my forest?" demanded the giant. "They want to put an end =
to
thee, and cleanse the forest of such a monster as thou art!"
"Oho!" said the giant, "I will trample you all to death like=
so
many ants." "Dost thou think thou canst do anything against us?&q=
uot;
said the drummer; "if thou stoopest to take hold of one, he will jump =
away
and hide himself; but when thou art lying down and sleeping, they will come
forth from every thicket, and creep up to thee. Every one of them has a ham=
mer
of steel in his belt, and with that they will beat in thy skull." The
giant grew angry and thought, "If I meddle with the crafty folk, it mi=
ght
turn out badly for me. I can strangle wolves and bears, but I cannot protec=
t myself
from these earth-worms." "Listen, little fellow," said he;
"go back again, and I will promise you that for the future I will leav=
e you
and your comrades in peace, and if there is anything else you wish for, tell
me, for I am quite willing to do something to please you." "Thou =
hast
long legs," said the drummer, "and canst run quicker than I; carr=
y me
to the glass-mountain, and I will give my followers a signal to go back, and
they shall leave thee in peace this time." "Come here, worm,"
said the giant; "seat thyself on my shoulder, I will carry thee where =
thou
wishest to be." The giant lifted him up, and the drummer began to beat=
his
drum up aloft to his heart's delight. The giant thought, "That is the
signal for the other people to turn back."
After
a while, a second giant was standing in the road, who took the drummer from=
the
first, and stuck him in his button-hole. The drummer laid hold of the butto=
n,
which was as large as a dish, held on by it, and looked merrily around. Then
they came to a third giant, who took him out of the button-hole, and set hi=
m on
the rim of his hat. Then the drummer walked backwards and forwards up above,
and looked over the trees, and when he perceived a mountain in the blue
distance, he thought, "That must be the glass-mountain," and so it
was. The giant only made two steps more, and they reached the foot of the
mountain, where the giant put him down. The drummer demanded to be put on t=
he summit
of the glass-mountain, but the giant shook his head, growled something in h=
is
beard, and went back into the forest.
And
now the poor drummer was standing before the mountain, which was as high as=
if
three mountains were piled on each other, and at the same time as smooth as=
a
looking-glass, and did not know how to get up it. He began to climb, but th=
at
was useless, for he always slipped back again. "If one was a bird
now," thought he; but what was the good of wishing, no wings grew for =
him.
Whilst
he was standing thus, not knowing what to do, he saw, not far from him, two=
men
who were struggling fiercely together. He went up to them and saw that they
were disputing about a saddle which was lying on the ground before them, and
which both of them wanted to have. "What fools you are," said he,
"to quarrel about a saddle, when you have not a horse for it!"
"The saddle is worth fighting about," answered one of the men;
"whosoever sits on it, and wishes himself in any place, even if it sho=
uld
be the very end of the earth, gets there the instant he has uttered the wis=
h.
The saddle belongs to us in common. It is my turn to ride on it, but that o=
ther
man will not let me do it." "I will soon decide the quarrel,"
said the drummer, and he went to a short distance and stuck a white rod in =
the
ground. Then he came back and said, "Now run to the goal, and whoever =
gets
there first, shall ride first." Both put themselves into a trot; but
hardly had they gone a couple of steps before the drummer swung himself on =
the
saddle, wished himself on the glass-mountain, and before any one could turn
round, he was there. On the top of the mountain was a plain; there stood an=
old
stone house, and in front of the house lay a great fish-pond, but behind it=
was
a dark forest. He saw neither men nor animals, everything was quiet; only t=
he
wind rustled amongst the trees, and the clouds moved by quite close above h=
is
head. He went to the door and knocked. When he had knocked for the third ti=
me,
an old woman with a brown face and red eyes opened the door. She had specta=
cles
on her long nose, and looked sharply at him; then she asked what he wanted.
"Entrance, food, and a bed for the night," replied the drummer.
"That thou shalt have," said the old woman, "if thou wilt pe=
rform
three services in return." "Why not?" he answered, "I am
not afraid of any kind of work, however hard it may be." The old woman=
let
him go in, and gave him some food and a good bed at night. The next morning
when he had had his sleep out, she took a thimble from her wrinkled finger,
reached it to the drummer, and said, "Go to work now, and empty out the
pond with this thimble; but thou must have it done before night, and must h=
ave
sought out all the fishes which are in the water and laid them side by side,
according to their kind and size." "That is strange work," s=
aid
the drummer, but he went to the pond, and began to empty it. He baled the w=
hole
morning; but what can any one do to a great lake with a thimble, even if he
were to bale for a thousand years?
When
it was noon, he thought, "It is all useless, and whether I work or not=
it
will come to the same thing." So he gave it up and sat down. Then came=
a
maiden out of the house who set a little basket with food before him, and s=
aid,
"What ails thee, that thou sittest so sadly here?" He looked at h=
er,
and saw that she was wondrously beautiful. "Ah," said he, "I
cannot finish the first piece of work, how will it be with the others? I ca=
me
forth to seek a king's daughter who is said to dwell here, but I have not f=
ound
her, and I will go farther." "Stay here," said the maiden,
"I will help thee out of thy difficulty. Thou art tired, lay thy head =
in
my lap, and sleep. When thou awakest again, thy work will be done." The
drummer did not need to be told that twice. As soon as his eyes were shut, =
she
turned a wishing-ring and said, "Rise, water. Fishes, come out."
Instantly the water rose on high like a white mist, and moved away with the
other clouds, and the fishes sprang on the shore and laid themselves side by
side each according to his size and kind. When the drummer awoke, he saw wi=
th amazement
that all was done. But the maiden said, "One of the fish is not lying =
with
those of its own kind, but quite alone; when the old woman comes to-night a=
nd
sees that all she demanded has been done, she will ask thee, 'What is this =
fish
lying alone for?' Then throw the fish in her face, and say, 'This one shall=
be
for thee, old witch.'" In the evening the witch came, and when she had=
put
this question, he threw the fish in her face. She behaved as if she did not
remark it, and said nothing, but looked at him with malicious eyes. Next
morning she said, "Yesterday it was too easy for thee, I must give thee
harder work. To-day thou must hew down the whole of the forest, split the w=
ood
into logs, and pile them up, and everything must be finished by the
evening." She gave him an axe, a mallet, and two wedges. But the axe w=
as
made of lead, and the mallet and wedges were of tin. When he began to cut, =
the
edge of the axe turned back, and the mallet and wedges were beaten out of
shape. He did not know how to manage, but at mid-day the maiden came once m=
ore
with his dinner and comforted him. "Lay thy head on my lap," said
she, "and sleep; when thou awakest, thy work will be done." She
turned her wishing-ring, and in an instant the whole forest fell down with a
crash, the wood split, and arranged itself in heaps, and it seemed just as =
if
unseen giants were finishing the work. When he awoke, the maiden said,
"Dost thou see that the wood is piled up and arranged, one bough alone
remains; but when the old woman comes this evening and asks thee about that
bough, give her a blow with it, and say, 'That is for thee, thou witch.'&qu=
ot;
The
old woman came, "There thou seest how easy the work was!" said sh=
e;
"but for whom hast thou left that bough which is lying there still?&qu=
ot;
"For
thee, thou witch," he replied, and gave her a blow with it. But she
pretended not to feel it, laughed scornfully, and said, "Early to-morr=
ow
morning thou shalt arrange all the wood in one heap, set fire to it, and bu=
rn
it." He rose at break of day, and began to pick up the wood, but how c=
an a
single man get a whole forest together? The work made no progress. The maid=
en,
however, did not desert him in his need. She brought him his food at noon, =
and
when he had eaten, he laid his head on her lap, and went to sleep. When he =
awoke,
the entire pile of wood was burning in one enormous flame, which stretched =
its
tongues out into the sky. "Listen to me," said the maiden, "=
when
the witch comes, she will give thee all kinds of orders; do whatever she as=
ks thee
without fear, and then she will not be able to get the better of thee, but =
if
thou art afraid, the fire will lay hold of thee, and consume thee. At last =
when
thou hast done everything, seize her with both thy hands, and throw her into
the midst of the fire." The maiden departed, and the old woman came
sneaking up to him. "Oh, I am cold," said she, "but that is a
fire that burns; it warms my old bones for me, and does me good! But there =
is a
log lying there which won't burn, bring it out for me. When thou hast done
that, thou art free, and mayst go where thou likest, come; go in with a good
will."
The
drummer did not reflect long; he sprang into the midst of the flames, but t=
hey
did not hurt him, and could not even singe a hair of his head. He carried t=
he
log out, and laid it down. Hardly, however, had the wood touched the earth =
than
it was transformed, and the beautiful maiden who had helped him in his need
stood before him, and by the silken and shining golden garments which she w=
ore,
he knew right well that she was the King's daughter. But the old woman laug=
hed venomously,
and said, "Thou thinkest thou hast her safe, but thou hast not got her
yet!" Just as she was about to fall on the maiden and take her away, t=
he
youth seized the old woman with both his hands, raised her up on high, and
threw her into the jaws of the fire, which closed over her as if it were
delighted that an old witch was to be burnt.
Then
the King's daughter looked at the drummer, and when she saw that he was a
handsome youth and remembered how he had risked his life to deliver her, she
gave him her hand, and said, "Thou hast ventured everything for my sak=
e,
but I also will do everything for thine. Promise to be true to me, and thou
shalt be my husband. We shall not want for riches, we shall have enough wit=
h what
the witch has gathered together here." She led him into the house, whe=
re
there were chests and coffers crammed with the old woman's treasures. The
maiden left the gold and silver where it was, and took only the precious
stones. She would not stay any longer on the glass-mountain, so the drummer=
said
to her, "Seat thyself by me on my saddle, and then we will fly down li=
ke
birds." "I do not like the old saddle," said she, "I ne=
ed only
turn my wishing-ring and we shall be at home." "Very well,
then," answered the drummer, "then wish us in front of the
town-gate." In the twinkling of an eye they were there, but the drummer
said, "I will just go to my parents and tell them the news, wait for me
outside here, I shall soon be back." "Ah," said the King's
daughter, "I beg thee to be careful. On thy arrival do not kiss thy
parents on the right cheek, or else thou wilt forget everything, and I shall
stay behind here outside, alone and deserted." "How can I forget
thee?" said he, and promised her to come back very soon, and gave his =
hand
upon it. When he went into his father's house, he had changed so much that =
no
one knew who he was, for the three days which he had passed on the
glass-mountain had been three years. Then he made himself known, and his
parents fell on his neck with joy, and his heart was so moved that he forgot
what the maiden had said, and kissed them on both cheeks. But when he had g=
iven
them the kiss on the right cheek, every thought of the King's daughter vani=
shed
from him. He emptied out his pockets, and laid handfuls of the largest jewe=
ls
on the table. The parents had not the least idea what to do with the riches.
Then the father built a magnificent castle all surrounded by gardens, woods=
, and
meadows as if a prince were going to live in it, and when it was ready, the
mother said, "I have found a maiden for thee, and the wedding shall be=
in
three days. The son was content to do as his parents desired."
The
poor King's daughter had stood for a long time without the town waiting for=
the
return of the young man. When evening came, she said, "He must certain=
ly
have kissed his parents on the right cheek, and has forgotten me." Her
heart was full of sorrow, she wished herself into a solitary little hut in a
forest, and would not return to her father's court. Every evening she went =
into
the town and passed the young man's house; he often saw her, but he no long=
er
knew her. At length she heard the people saying, "The wedding will take
place to-morrow." Then she said, "I will try if I can win his hea=
rt
back."
On the
first day of the wedding ceremonies, she turned her wishing-ring, and said,
"A dress as bright as the sun." Instantly the dress lay before he=
r,
and it was as bright as if it had been woven of real sunbeams. When all the
guests were assembled, she entered the hall. Every one was amazed at the
beautiful dress, and the bride most of all, and as pretty dresses were the
things she had most delight in, she went to the stranger and asked if she w=
ould
sell it to her. "Not for money," she answered, "but if I may
pass the first night outside the door of the room where your betrothed slee=
ps,
I will give it up to you." The bride could not overcome her desire and
consented, but she mixed a sleeping-draught with the wine her betrothed too=
k at
night, which made him fall into a deep sleep, When all had become quiet, th=
e King's
daughter crouched down by the door of the bedroom, opened it just a little,=
and
cried,
"Drummer, drummer=
, I
pray thee hear! Hast thou forgott=
en
thou heldest me dear? That on the glass=
-mountain
we sat hour by hour? That I rescued th=
y life
from the witch's power? Didst thou not pl=
ight
thy troth to me? Drummer, drummer,
hearken to me!"
But it
was all in vain, the drummer did not awake, and when morning dawned, the Ki=
ng's
daughter was forced to go back again as she came. On the second evening she
turned her wishing-ring and said, "A dress as silvery as the moon.&quo=
t;
When she appeared at the feast in the dress which was as soft as moonbeams,=
it
again excited the desire of the bride, and the King's daughter gave it to h=
er
for permission to pass the second night also, outside the door of the bedro=
om.
Then in the stillness of the night, she cried,
"Drummer, drummer=
, I
pray thee hear! Hast thou forgott=
en thy
heldest me dear? That on the
glass-mountain we sat hour by hour? That I rescued th=
y life
from the witch's power? Didst thou not pl=
ight
thy troth to me? Drummer, drummer,
hearken to me!"
But
the drummer, who was stupefied with the sleeping-draught, could not be arou=
sed.
Sadly next morning she went back to her hut in the forest. But the people in
the house had heard the lamentation of the stranger-maiden, and told the
bridegroom about it. They told him also that it was impossible that he could
hear anything of it, because the maiden he was going to marry had poured a
sleeping-draught into his wine.
On the
third evening, the King's daughter turned her wishing-ring, and said, "=
;A
dress glittering like the stars." When she showed herself therein at t=
he
feast, the bride was quite beside herself with the splendour of the dress,
which far surpassed the others, and she said, "I must, and will have
it." The maiden gave it as she had given the others for permission to
spend the night outside the bridegroom's door. The bridegroom, however, did=
not
drink the wine which was handed to him before he went to bed, but poured it
behind the bed, and when everything was quiet, he heard a sweet voice which
called to him,
"Drummer, drummer=
, I
pray thee hear! Hast thou forgott=
en
thou held me dear? That on the
glass-mountain we sat hour by hour? That I rescued th=
y life
from the witch's power? Didst thou not pl=
ight
thy troth to me? Drummer, drummer,
hearken to me!"
Suddenly,
his memory returned to him. "Ah," cried he, "how can I have =
acted
so unfaithfully; but the kiss which in the joy of my heart I gave my parent=
s,
on the right cheek, that is to blame for it all, that is what stupefied
me!" He sprang up, took the King's daughter by the hand, and led her t=
o his
parents' bed. "This is my true bride," said he; "if I marry =
the
other, I shall do a great wrong." The parents, when they heard how
everything had happened, gave their consent. Then the lights in the hall we=
re
lighted again, drums and trumpets were brought, friends and relations were
invited to come, and the real wedding was solemnized with great rejoicing. =
The
first bride received the beautiful dresses as a compensation, and declared
herself satisfied.
In
former times, when God himself still walked the earth, the fruitfulness of =
the
soil was much greater than it is now; then the ears of corn did not bear fi=
fty
or sixty, but four or five hundred-fold. Then the corn grew from the bottom=
to
the very top o f the stalk, and according to the length of the stalk was the
length of the ear. Men however are so made, that when they are too well off
they no longer value the blessings which come from God, but grow indifferent
and careless. One day a woman was passing by a corn-field when her little
child, who was running beside her, fell into a puddle, and dirtied her froc=
k.
On this the mother tore up a handful of the beautiful ears of corn, and cle=
aned
the frock with them.
When
the Lord, who just then came by, saw that, he was angry, and said, "He=
nceforth
shall the stalks of corn bear no more ears; men are no longer worthy of
heavenly gifts." The by-standers who heard this, were terrified, and f=
ell
on their knees and prayed that he would still leave something on the stalks,
even if the people were undeserving of it, for the sake of the innocent bir=
ds
which would otherwise have to starve. The Lord, who foresaw their suffering,
had pity on them, and granted the request. So the ears were left as they now
grow.
A rich
farmer was one day standing in his yard inspecting his fields and gardens. =
The
corn was growing up vigorously and the fruit-trees were heavily laden with
fruit. The grain of the year before still lay in such immense heaps on the
floors that the rafters could hardly bear it. Then he went into the stable,
where were well-fed oxen, fat cows, and horses bright as looking-glass. At
length he went back into his sitting-room, and cast a glance at the iron ch=
est
in which his money lay.
Whilst
he was thus standing surveying his riches, all at once there was a loud kno=
ck
close by him. The knock was not at the door of his room, but at the door of=
his
heart. It opened, and he heard a voice which said to him, "Hast thou d=
one
good to thy family with it? Hast thou considered the necessities of the poo=
r?
Hast thou shared thy bread with the hungry? Hast thou been contented with w=
hat
thou hast, or didst thou always desire to have more?" The heart was not
slow in answering, "I have been hard and pitiless, and have never shown
any kindness to my own family. If a beggar came, I turned away my eyes from
him. I have not troubled myself about God, but have thought only of increas=
ing
my wealth. If everything which the sky covers had been mine own, I should s=
till
not have had enough."
When
he was aware of this answer he was greatly alarmed, his knees began to trem=
ble,
and he was forced to sit down.
Then
there was another knock, but the knock was at the door of his room. It was =
his
neighbour, a poor man who had a number of children whom he could no longer
satisfy with food. "I know," thought the poor man, "that my
neighbour is rich, but he is as hard as he is rich. I don't believe he will
help me, but my children are crying for bread, so I will venture it." =
He
said to the rich man, "You do not readily give away anything that is
yours, but I stand here like one who feels the water rising above his head.=
My
children are starving, lend me four measures* of corn." The rich man
looked at him long, and then the first sunbeam of mercy began to melt away a
drop of the ice of greediness. "I will not lend thee four measures,&qu=
ot;
he answered, "but I will make thee a present of eight, but thou must
fulfil one condition." "What am I to do?" said the poor man.
"When I am dead, thou shalt watch for three nights by my grave." =
The
peasant was disturbed in his mind at this request, but in the need in which=
he
was, he would have consented to anything; he accepted, therefore, and carri=
ed
the corn home with him.
It
seemed as if the rich man had foreseen what was about to happen, for when t=
hree
days were gone by, he suddenly dropped down dead. No one knew exactly how it
came to pass, but no one grieved for him. When he was buried, the poor man
remembered his promise; he would willingly have been released from it, but =
he
thought, "After all, he acted kindly by me. I have fed my hungry child=
ren
with his corn, and even if that were not the case, where I have once given =
my
promise I must keep it." At nightfall he went into the churchyard, and
seated himself on the grave-mound. Everything was quiet, only the moon appe=
ared
above the grave, and frequently an owl flew past and uttered her melancholy
cry. When the sun rose, the poor man betook himself in safety to his home, =
and
in the same manner the second night passed quietly by. On the evening of th=
e third
day he felt a strange uneasiness, it seemed to him that something was about=
to
happen. When he went out he saw, by the churchyard-wall, a man whom he had
never seen before. He was no longer young, had scars on his face, and his e=
yes
looked sharply and eagerly around. He was entirely covered with an old cloa=
k,
and nothing was visible but his great riding-boots. "What are you look=
ing
for here?" the peasant asked. "Are you not afraid of the lonely
churchyard?"
"I
am looking for nothing," he answered, "and I am afraid of nothing=
! I am
like the youngster who went forth to learn how to shiver, and had his labour
for his pains, but got the King's daughter to wife and great wealth with he=
r,
only I have remained poor. I am nothing but a paid-off soldier, and I mean =
to
pass the night here, because I have no other shelter." "If you are
without fear," said the peasant, "stay with me, and help me to wa=
tch
that grave there."
"To
keep watch is a soldier's business," he replied, "whatever we fal=
l in
with here, whether it be good or bad, we will share it between us." Th=
e peasant
agreed to this, and they seated themselves on the grave together.
All
was quiet until midnight, when suddenly a shrill whistling was heard in the
air, and the two watchers perceived the Evil One standing bodily before the=
m.
"Be off, you ragamuffins!" cried he to them, "the man who li=
es
in that grave belongs to me; I want to take him, and if you don't go away I
will wring your necks!" "Sir with the red feather," said the=
soldier,
"you are not my captain, I have no need to obey you, and I have not yet
learned how to fear. Go away, we shall stay sitting here."
The
Devil thought to himself, "Money is the best thing with which to get h=
old
of these two vagabonds." So he began to play a softer tune, and asked
quite kindly, if they would not accept a bag of money, and go home with it?
"That is worth listening to," answered the soldier, "but one=
bag
of gold won't serve us, if you will give as much as will go into one of my
boots, we will quit the field for you and go away."
"I
have not so much as that about me," said the Devil, "but I will f=
etch
it. In the neighbouring town lives a money-changer who is a good friend of
mine, and will readily advance it to me." When the Devil had vanished =
the
soldier took his left boot off, and said, "We will soon pull the charc=
oal-burner's
nose for him, just give me your knife, comrade." He cut the sole off t=
he
boot, and put it in the high grass near the grave on the edge of a hole that
was half over-grown. "That will do," said he; "now the
chimney-sweep may come."
They
both sat down and waited, and it was not long before the Devil returned wit=
h a
small bag of gold in his hand. "Just pour it in," said the soldie=
r,
raising up the boot a little, "but that won't be enough."
The
Black One shook out all that was in the bag; the gold fell through, and the
boot remained empty. "Stupid Devil," cried the soldier, "it =
won't
do! Didn't I say so at once? Go back again, and bring more." The Devil
shook his head, went, and in an hour's time came with a much larger bag und=
er
his arm. "Now pour it in," cried the soldier, "but I doubt t=
he
boot won't be full." The gold clinked as it fell, but the boot remained
empty. The Devil looked in himself with his burning eyes, and convinced him=
self
of the truth. "You have shamefully big calves to your legs!" cried
he, and made a wry face. "Did you think," replied the soldier,
"that I had a cloven foot like you? Since when have you been so stingy?
See that you get more gold together, or our bargain will come to nothing!&q=
uot;
The Wicked One went off again. This time he stayed away longer, and when at
length he appeared he was panting under the weight of a sack which lay on h=
is
shoulders. He emptied it into the boot, which was just as far from being fi=
lled
as before. He became furious, and was just going to tear the boot out of the
soldier's hands, but at that moment the first ray of the rising sun broke f=
orth
from the sky, and the Evil Spirit fled away with loud shrieks. The poor soul
was saved.
The
peasant wished to divide the gold, but the soldier said, "Give what fa=
lls
to my lot to the poor, I will come with thee to thy cottage, and together we
will live in rest and peace on what remains, as long as God is pleased to
permit."
There
was once on a time a King who had a daughter, and he caused a glass mountai=
n to
be made, and said that whosoever could cross to the other side of it without
falling should have his daughter to wife. Then there was one who loved the
King's daughter, and he asked the King if he might have her. "Yes,&quo=
t;
said the King; "if you can cross the mountain without falling, you sha=
ll
have her." And the princess said she would go over it with him, and wo=
uld
hold him if he were about to fall. So they set out together to go over it, =
and
when they were half way up the princess slipped and fell, and the
glass-mountain opened and shut her up inside it, and her betrothed could not
see where she had gone, for the mountain closed immediately. Then he wept a=
nd
lamented much, and the King was miserable too, and had the mountain broken =
open
where she had been lost, and though the would be able to get her out again,=
but
they could not find the place into which she had fallen. Meanwhile the King=
's
daughter had fallen quite deep down into the earth into a great cave. An old
fellow with a very long gray beard came to meet her, and told her that if s=
he
would be his servant and do everything he bade her, she might live, if not =
he
would kill her. So she did all he bade her. In the mornings he took his lad=
der
out of his pocket, and set it up against the mountain and climbed to the to=
p by
its help, and then he drew up the ladder after him. The princess had to cook
his dinner, make his bed, and do all his work, and when he came home again =
he
always brought with him a heap of gold and silver. When she had lived with =
him for
many years, and had grown quite old, he called her Mother Mansrot, and she =
had
to call him Old Rinkrank. Then once when he was out, and she had made his b=
ed
and washed his dishes, she shut the doors and windows all fast, and there w=
as
one little window through which the light shone in, and this she left open.
When Old Rinkrank came home, he knocked at his door, and cried, "Mother
Mansrot, open the door for me." "No," said she, "Old
Rinkrank, I will not open the door for thee." Then he said,
"Here
stand I, poor Rinkrank, On my seventeen long shanks, On my weary, worn-out
foot, Wash my dishes, Mother Mansrot."
"I
have washed thy dishes already," said she. Then again he said,
"Here
stand I, poor Rinkrank, On my seventeen long shanks, On my weary, worn-out
foot, Make me my bed, Mother Mansrot."
"I
have made thy bed already," said she. Then again he said,
"Here
stand I, poor Rinkrank, On my seventeen long shanks, On my weary, worn-out
foot, Open the door, Mother Mansrot."
Then
he ran all round his house, and saw that the little window was open, and
thought, "I will look in and see what she can be about, and why she wi=
ll
not open the door for me." He tried to peep in, but could not get his =
head
through because of his long beard. So he first put his beard through the op=
en
window, but just as he had got it through, Mother Mansrot came by and pulled
the window down with a cord which she had tied to it, and his beard was shut
fast in it. Then he began to cry most piteously, for it hurt him very much,=
and
to entreat her to release him again. But she said not until he gave her the
ladder with which he ascended the mountain. Then, whether he would or not, =
he
had to tell her where the ladder was. And she fastened a very long ribbon to
the window, and then she set up the ladder, and ascended the mountain, and =
when
she was at the top of it she opened the window. She went to her father, and
told him all that had happened to her. The King rejoiced greatly, and her
betrothed was still there, and they went and dug up the mountain, and found=
Old
Rinkrank inside it with all his gold and silver. Then the King had Old Rink=
rank
put to death, and took all his gold and silver. The princess married her
betrothed, and lived right happily in great magnificence and joy.
<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>197 The Crystal Ball<=
span
style=3D'font-size:12.0pt;mso-bidi-font-size:16.0pt;line-height:115%;mso-fa=
reast-font-family:
Calibri'>
There
was once an enchantress, who had three sons who loved each other as brother=
s,
but the old woman did not trust them, and thought they wanted to steal her
power from her. So she changed the eldest into an eagle, which was forced to
dwell in the rocky mountains, and was often seen sweeping in great circles =
in
the sky. The second, she changed into a whale, which lived in the deep sea,=
and
all that was seen of it was that it sometimes spouted up a great jet of wat=
er
in the air. Each of them only bore his human form for only two hours daily.=
The
third son, who was afraid she might change him into a raging wild beast a b=
ear
perhaps, or a wolf, went secretly away. He had heard that a King's daughter=
who
was bewitched, was imprisoned in the Castle of the Golden Sun, and was wait=
ing
for deliverance. Those, however, who tried to free her risked their lives;
three-and-twenty youths had already died a miserable death, and now only one
other might make the attempt, after which no more must come. And as his hea=
rt
was without fear, he caught at the idea of seeking out the Castle of the Go=
lden
Sun. He had already travelled about for a long time without being able to f=
ind
it, when he came by chance into a great forest, and did not know the way ou=
t of
it. All at once he saw in the distance two giants, who made a sign to him w=
ith
their hands, and when he came to them they said, "We are quarrelling a=
bout
a cap, and which of us it is to belong to, and as we are equally strong,
neither of us can get the better of the other. The small men are cleverer t=
han we
are, so we will leave the decision to thee." "How can you dispute=
about
an old cap?" said the youth. "Thou dost not know what properties =
it
has! It is a wishing-cap; whosoever puts it on, can wish himself away where=
ver
he likes, and in an instant he will be there." "Give me the
cap," said the youth, "I will go a short distance off, and when I
call you, you must run a race, and the cap shall belong to the one who gets
first to me." He put it on and went away, and thought of the King's
daughter, forgot the giants, and walked continually onward. At length he si=
ghed
from the very bottom of his heart, and cried, "Ah, if I were but at th=
e Castle
of the Golden Sun," and hardly had the words passed his lips than he w=
as
standing on a high mountain before the gate of the castle.
He
entered and went through all the rooms, until in the last he found the King=
's
daughter. But how shocked he was when he saw her. She had an ashen-gray face
full of wrinkles, blear eyes, and red hair. "Are you the King's daught=
er,
whose beauty the whole world praises?" cried he. "Ah," she
answered, "this is not my form; human eyes can only see me in this sta=
te of
ugliness, but that thou mayst know what I am like, look in the mirror it do=
es
not let itself be misled it will show thee my image as it is in truth."
She gave him the mirror in his hand, and he saw therein the likeness of the
most beautiful maiden on earth, and saw, too, how the tears were rolling do=
wn
her cheeks with grief. Then said he, "How canst thou be set free? I fe=
ar
no danger." She said, "He who gets the crystal ball, and holds it
before the enchanter, will destroy his power with it, and I shall resume my
true shape. Ah," she added, "so many have already gone to meet de=
ath
for this, and thou art so young; I grieve that thou shouldst encounter such
great danger." "Nothing can keep me from doing it," said he,
"but tell me what I must do." "Thou shalt know everything,&q=
uot;
said the King's daughter; "when thou descendest the mountain on which =
the
castle stands, a wild bull will stand below by a spring, and thou must fight
with it, and if thou hast the luck to kill it, a fiery bird will spring out=
of
it, which bears in its body a burning egg, and in the egg the crystal ball =
lies
like a yolk. The bird will not, however, let the egg fall until forced to do
so, and if it falls on the ground, it will flame up and burn everything tha=
t is
near, and melt even ice itself, and with it the crystal ball, and then all =
thy
trouble will have been in vain."
The
youth went down to the spring, where the bull snorted and bellowed at him.
After a long struggle he plunged his sword in the animal's body, and it fell
down. Instantly a fiery bird arose from it, and was about to fly away, but =
the
young man's brother, the eagle, who was passing between the clouds, swooped
down, hunted it away to the sea, and struck it with his beak until, in its
extremity, it let the egg fall. The egg did not, however, fall into the sea,
but on a fisherman's hut which stood on the shore and the hut began at once=
to
smoke and was about to break out in flames. Then arose in the sea waves as =
high
as a house, they streamed over the hut, and subdued the fire. The other
brother, the whale, had come swimming to them, and had driven the water up =
on
high. When the fire was extinguished, the youth sought for the egg and happ=
ily
found it; it was not yet melted, but the shell was broken by being so sudde=
nly cooled
with the water, and he could take out the crystal ball unhurt.
When
the youth went to the enchanter and held it before him, the latter said,
"My power is destroyed, and from this time forth thou art the King of =
the
Castle of the Golden Sun. With this canst thou likewise give back to thy
brothers their human form." Then the youth hastened to the King's
daughter, and when he entered the room, she was standing there in the full
splendour of her beauty, and joyfully they exchanged rings with each other.=
There
was once a King who had a son who asked in marriage the daughter of a mighty
King; she was called Maid Maleen, and was very beautiful. As her father wis=
hed
to give her to another, the prince was rejected; but as they both loved each
other with all their hearts, they would not give each other up, and Maid Ma=
leen
said to her father, "I can and will take no other for my husband."
Then the King flew into a passion, and ordered a dark tower to be built, in=
to
which no ray of sunlight or moonlight should enter. When it was finished, he
said, "Therein shalt thou be imprisoned for seven years, and then I wi=
ll
come and see if thy perverse spirit is broken." Meat and drink for the
seven years were carried into the tower, and then she and her waiting-woman
were led into it and walled up, and thus cut off from the sky and from the
earth. There they sat in the darkness, and knew not when day or night began.
The King's son often went round and round the tower, and called their names=
, but
no sound from without pierced through the thick walls. What else could they=
do
but lament and complain? Meanwhile the time passed, and by the diminution of
the food and drink they knew that the seven years were coming to an end. Th=
ey
thought the moment of their deliverance was come; but no stroke of the hamm=
er
was heard, no stone fell out of the wall, and it seemed to Maid Maleen that=
her
father had forgotten her. As they only had food for a short time longer, and
saw a miserable death awaiting them, Maid Maleen said, "We must try our
last chance, and see if we can break through the wall." She took the
bread-knife, and picked and bored at the mortar of a stone, and when she was
tired, the waiting-maid took her turn. With great labour they succeeded in
getting out one stone, and then a second, and a third, and when three days =
were
over the first ray of light fell on their darkness, and at last the opening=
was
so large that they could look out. The sky was blue, and a fresh breeze pla=
yed on
their faces; but how melancholy everything looked all around! Her father's
castle lay in ruins, the town and the villages were, so far as could be see=
n,
destroyed by fire, the fields far and wide laid to waste, and no human being
was visible. When the opening in the wall was large enough for them to slip
through, the waiting-maid sprang down first, and then Maid Maleen followed.=
But
where were they to go? The enemy had ravaged the whole kingdom, driven away=
the
King, and slain all the inhabitants. They wandered forth to seek another
country, but nowhere did they find a shelter, or a human being to give them=
a
mouthful of bread, and their need was so great that they were forced to app=
ease
their hunger with nettles. When, after long journeying, they came into anot=
her
country, they tried to get work everywhere; but wherever they knocked they =
were
turned away, and no one would have pity on them. At last they arrived in a
large city and went to the royal palace. There also they were ordered to go
away, but at last the cook said that they might stay in the kitchen and be
scullions.
The
son of the King in whose kingdom they were, was, however, the very man who =
had
been betrothed to Maid Maleen. His father had chosen another bride for him,
whose face was as ugly as her heart was wicked. The wedding was fixed, and =
the
maiden had already arrived; but because of her great ugliness, however, she
shut herself in her room, and allowed no one to see her, and Maid Maleen ha=
d to
take her her meals from the kitchen. When the day came for the bride and the
bridegroom to go to church, she was ashamed of her ugliness, and afraid tha=
t if
she showed herself in the streets, she would be mocked and laughed at by the
people. Then said she to Maid Maleen, "A great piece of luck has befal=
len
thee. I have sprained my foot, and cannot well walk through the streets; th=
ou
shalt put on my wedding-clothes and take my place; a greater honour than th=
at
thou canst not have!" Maid Maleen, however, refused it, and said, &quo=
t;I
wish for no honour which is not suitable for me." It was in vain, too,=
that
the bride offered her gold. At last she said angrily, "If thou dost not
obey me, it shall cost thee thy life. I have but to speak the word, and thy
head will lie at thy feet." Then she was forced to obey, and put on the
bride's magnificent clothes and all her jewels. When she entered the royal
hall, every one was amazed at her great beauty, and the King said to his so=
n,
"This is the bride whom I have chosen for thee, and whom thou must lea=
d to
church." The bridegroom was astonished, and thought, "She is like=
my
Maid Maleen, and I should believe that it was she herself, but she has long
been shut up in the tower, or dead." He took her by the hand and led h=
er
to church. On the way was a nettle-plant, and she said,
"Oh,
nettle-plant, Little nettle-plant, What dost thou here alone? I have known the time When I ate t=
hee
unboiled, When I ate thee unroasted."
"What
art thou saying?" asked the King's son. "Nothing," she repli=
ed, "I
was only thinking of Maid Maleen." He was surprised that she knew about
her, but kept silence. When they came to the foot-plank into the churchyard,
she said,
"Foot-bridge,
do not break, I am not the true bride."
"What
art thou saying there?" asked the King's son. "Nothing," she=
replied,
"I was only thinking of Maid Maleen." "Dost thou know Maid M=
aleen?"
"No," she answered, "how should I know her; I have only hear=
d of
her." When they came to the church-door, she said once more,
"Church-door,
break not, I am not the true bride."
"What
art thou saying there?" asked he. "Ah," she answered, "I
was only thinking of Maid Maleen." Then he took out a precious chain, =
put it
round her neck, and fastened the clasp. Thereupon they entered the church, =
and
the priest joined their hands together before the altar, and married them. =
He
led her home, but she did not speak a single word the whole way. When they =
got
back to the royal palace, she hurried into the bride's chamber, put off the
magnificent clothes and the jewels, dressed herself in her gray gown, and k=
ept
nothing but the jewel on her neck, which she had received from the bridegro=
om.
When
the night came, and the bride was to be led into the prince's apartment, she
let her veil fall over her face, that he might not observe the deception. As
soon as every one had gone away, he said to her, "What didst thou say =
to
the nettle-plant which was growing by the wayside?"
"To
which nettle-plant?" asked she; "I don't talk to nettle-plants.&q=
uot;
"If thou didst not do it, then thou art not the true bride," said=
he.
So she bethought herself, and said,
"I
must go out unto my maid, Who keeps my thoughts for me."
She
went out and sought Maid Maleen. "Girl, what hast thou been saying to =
the
nettle?" "I said nothing but,
"Oh,
nettle-plant, Little nettle-plant, What dost thou here alone? I have known the time When I ate t=
hee
unboiled, When I ate thee unroasted."
The
bride ran back into the chamber, and said, "I know now what I said to =
the
nettle," and she repeated the words which she had just heard. "Bu=
t what
didst thou say to the foot-bridge when we went over it?" asked the Kin=
g's
son. "To the foot-bridge?" she answered. "I don't talk to fo=
ot-bridges."
"Then thou art not the true bride."
She
again said,
"I
must go out unto my maid, Who keeps my thoughts for me,"
And
ran out and found Maid Maleen, "Girl, what didst thou say to the foot-=
bridge?"
"I
said nothing but,
"Foot-bridge,
do not break, I am not the true bride."
"That
costs thee thy life!" cried the bride, but she hurried into the room, =
and
said, "I know now what I said to the foot-bridge," and she repeat=
ed
the words. "But what didst thou say to the church-door?" "To=
the
church-door?" she replied; "I don't talk to church-doors."
"Then thou art not the true bride."
She
went out and found Maid Maleen, and said, "Girl, what didst thou say to
the church-door?"
"I
said nothing but,
"Church-door,
break not, I am not the true bride."
"That will break thy neck for thee!" cried the bride, and flew into a terrib= le passion, but she hastened back into the room, and said, "I know now wh= at I said to the church-door," and she repeated the words. "But where = hast thou the jewel which I gave thee at the church-door?" "What jewel= ?" she answered; "thou didst not give me any jewel." "I myself = put it round thy neck, and I myself fastened it; if thou dost not know that, thou = art not the true bride." He drew the veil from her face, and when he saw h= er immeasurable ugliness, he sprang back terrified, and said, "How comest thou here? Who art thou?" "I am thy betrothed bride, but because I feared lest the people should mock me when they saw me out of doors, I commanded the scullery-maid to dress herself in my clothes, and to go to ch= urch instead of me." "Where is the girl?" said he; "I want to see her, go and bring her here." She went out and told the servants th= at the scullery-maid was an impostor, and that they must take her out into the court-yard and strike off her head. The servants laid hold of Maid Maleen a= nd wanted to drag her out, but she screamed so loudly for help, that the King's son heard her voice, hurried out of his chamber and ordered them to set the maiden free instantly. Lights were brought, and then he saw on her neck the gold chain which he had given her at the church-door. "Thou art the tr= ue bride," said he, "who went with me to the church; come with me no= w to my room." When they were both alone, he said, "On the way to chur= ch thou didst name Maid Maleen, who was my betrothed bride; if I could believe= it possible, I should think she was standing before me thou art like her in ev= ery respect." She answered, "I am Maid Maleen, who for thy sake was imprisoned seven years in the darkness, who suffered hunger and thirst, and= has lived so long in want and poverty. To-day, however, the sun is shining on me once more. I was married to thee in the church, and I am thy lawful wife.&q= uot; Then they kissed each other, and were happy all the days of their lives. The false bride was rewarded for what she had done by having her head cut off.<= o:p>
The
tower in which Maid Maleen had been imprisoned remained standing for a long
time, and when the children passed by it they sang,
"Kling,
klang, gloria. Who sits withi=
n this
tower? A King's daughter, she=
sits
within, A sight of her I cannot win, The wall it will not break, The stone
cannot be pierced. Little Han=
s,
with your coat so gay, Follow me, follow me, fast as you may."
A
soldier who is afraid of nothing, troubles himself about nothing. One of th=
is
kind had received his discharge, and as he had learnt no trade and could ea=
rn
nothing, he travelled about and begged alms of kind people. He had an old
waterproof on his back, and a pair of riding-boots of buffalo-leather which
were still left to him. One day he was walking he knew not where, straight =
out
into the open country, and at length came to a forest. He did not know wher=
e he
was, but saw sitting on the trunk of a tree, which had been cut down, a man=
who
was well dressed and wore a green shooting-coat. The soldier shook hands wi=
th
him, sat down on the grass by his side, and stretched out his legs. "I=
see
thou hast good boots on, which are well blacked," said he to the hunts=
man;
"but if thou hadst to travel about as I have, they would not last long.
Look at mine, they are of buffalo-leather, and have been worn for a long ti=
me,
but in them I can go through thick and thin." After a while the soldier
got up and said, "I can stay no longer, hunger drives me onwards; but,
Brother Bright-boots, where does this road lead to?" "I don't know
that myself," answered the huntsman, "I have lost my way in the
forest." "Then thou art in the same plight as I," said the
soldier; "birds of a feather flock together, let us remain together, a=
nd
seek our way." The huntsman smiled a little, and they walked on further
and further, until night fell. "We do not get out of the forest,"
said the soldier, "but there in the distance I see a light shining, wh=
ich
will help us to something to eat." They found a stone house, knocked at
the door, and an old woman opened it. "We are looking for quarters for=
the
night," said the soldier, "and some lining for our stomachs, for =
mine
is as empty as an old knapsack." "You cannot stay here,"
answered the old woman; "this is a robber's house, and you would do wi=
sely
to get away before they come home, or you will be lost." "It won'=
t be
so bad as that," answered the soldier, "I have not had a mouthful=
for
two days, and whether I am murdered here or die of hunger in the forest is =
all
the same to me. I shall go in." The huntsman would not follow, but the
soldier drew him in with him by the sleeve. "Come, my dear brother, we
shall not come to an end so quickly as that!" The old woman had pity on
them and said, "Creep in here behind the stove, and if they leave
anything, I will give it to you on the sly when they are asleep." Scar=
cely
were they in the corner before twelve robbers came bursting in, seated
themselves at the table which was already laid, and vehemently demanded some
food. The old woman brought in some great dishes of roast meat, and the rob=
bers
enjoyed that thoroughly. When the smell of the food ascended the nostrils of
the soldier, he said to the huntsman, "I cannot hold out any longer, I
shall seat myself at the table, and eat with them." "Thou wilt br=
ing
us to destruction," said the huntsman, and held him back by the arm. B=
ut
the soldier began to cough loudly. When the robbers heard that, they threw =
away
their knives and forks, leapt up, and discovered the two who were behind the
stove. "Aha, gentlemen, are you in the corner?" cried they, "=
;What
are you doing here? Have you been sent as spies? Wait a while, and you shall
learn how to fly on a dry bough." "But do be civil," said the
soldier, "I am hungry, give me something to eat, and then you can do w=
hat
you like with me." The robbers were astonished, and the captain said,
"I see that thou hast no fear; well, thou shalt have some food, but af=
ter
that thou must die." "We shall see," said the soldier, and s=
eated
himself at the table, and began to cut away valiantly at the roast meat.
"Brother Brightboots, come and eat," cried he to the huntsman; &q=
uot;thou
must be as hungry as I am, and cannot have better roast meat at home,"=
but
the huntsman would not eat. The robbers looked at the soldier in astonishme=
nt,
and said, "The rascal uses no ceremony." After a while he said,
"I have had enough food, now get me something good to drink." The
captain was in the mood to humour him in this also, and called to the old
woman, "Bring a bottle out of the cellar, and mind it be of the
best." The soldier drew the cork out with a loud noise, and then went =
with
the bottle to the huntsman and said, "Pay attention, brother, and thou
shalt see something that will surprise thee; I am now going to drink the he=
alth
of the whole clan." Then he brandished the bottle over the heads of the
robbers, and cried, "Long life to you all, but with your mouths open a=
nd
your right hands lifted up," and then he drank a hearty draught. Scarc=
ely
were the words said than they all sat motionless as if made of stone, and t=
heir
mouths were open and their right hands stretched up in the air. The huntsman
said to the soldier, "I see that thou art acquainted with tricks of
another kind, but now come and let us go home." "Oho, my dear
brother, but that would be marching away far too soon; we have conquered the
enemy, and must first take the booty. Those men there are sitting fast, and=
are
opening their mouths with astonishment, but they will not be allowed to move
until I permit them. Come, eat and drink." The old woman had to bring
another bottle of the best wine, and the soldier would not stir until he had
eaten enough to last for three days. At last when day came, he said, "=
Now
it is time to strike our tents, and that our march may be a short one, the =
old
woman shall show us the nearest way to the town." When they had arrived
there, he went to his old comrades, and said, "Out in the forest I have
found a nest full of gallows' birds, come with me and we will take it."
The soldier led them, and said to the huntsman, "Thou must go back aga=
in with
me to see how they shake when we seize them by the feet." He placed the
men round about the robbers, and then he took the bottle, drank a mouthful,
brandished it above them, and cried, "Live again." Instantly they=
all
regained the power of movement, but were thrown down and bound hand and foot
with cords. Then the soldier ordered them to be thrown into a cart as if th=
ey
had been so many sacks, and said, "Now drive them straight to
prison." The huntsman, however, took one of the men aside and gave him
another commission besides. "Brother Bright-boots," said the sold=
ier,
"we have safely routed the enemy and been well fed, now we will quietly
walk behind them as if we were stragglers!" When they approached the t=
own,
the soldier saw a crowd of people pouring through the gate of the town who =
were
raising loud cries of joy, and waving green boughs in the air. Then he saw =
that
the entire body-guard was coming up. "What can this mean?" said h=
e to
the huntsman. "Dost thou not know?" he replied, "that the Ki=
ng
has for a long time been absent from his kingdom, and that to-day he is
returning, and every one is going to meet him." "But where is the
King?" said the soldier, "I do not see him." "Here he
is," answered the huntsman, "I am the King, and have announced my
arrival." Then he opened his hunting-coat, and his royal garments were
visible. The soldier was alarmed, and fell on his knees and begged him to
forgive him for having in his ignorance treated him as an equal, and spoken=
to
him by such a name. But the King shook hands with him, and said, "Thou=
art
a brave soldier, and hast saved my life. Thou shalt never again be in want,=
I
will take care of thee. And if ever thou wouldst like to eat a piece of roa=
st
meat, as good as that in the robber's house, come to the royal kitchen. But=
if
thou wouldst drink a health, thou must first ask my permission."
In the
winter time, when deep snow lay on the ground, a poor boy was forced to go =
out
on a sledge to fetch wood. When he had gathered it together, and packed it,=
he
wished, as he was so frozen with cold, not to go home at once, but to light=
a
fire and warm himself a little. So he scraped away the snow, and as he was =
thus
clearing the ground, he found a tiny, gold key. Hereupon he thought that wh=
ere
the key was, the lock must be also, and dug in the ground and found an iron
chest. "If the key does but fit it!" thought he; "no doubt t=
here
are precious things in that little box." He searched, but no keyhole w=
as
there. At last he discovered one, but so small that it was hardly visible. =
He
tried it, and the key fitted it exactly. Then he turned it once round, and =
now
we must wait until he has quite unlocked it and opened the lid, and then we
shall learn what wonderful things were lying in that box.
There
was once on a time a mother who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was
rude and wicked, the second much better, although she had her faults, but t=
he
youngest was a pious, good child. The mother was, however, so strange, that=
it
was just the eldest daughter whom she most loved, and she could not bear the
youngest. On this account, she often sent the poor girl out into the great
forest in order to get rid of her, for she thought she would lose herself a=
nd
never come back again. But the guardian-angel which every good child has, d=
id
not forsake her, but always brought her into the right path again. Once,
however, the guardian-angel behaved as if he were not there, and the child
could not find her way out of the forest again. She walked on constantly un=
til evening
came, and then she saw a tiny light burning in the distance, ran up to it at
once, and came to a little hut. She knocked, the door opened, and she came =
to a
second door, where she knocked again. An old man, who had a snow-white beard
and looked venerable, opened it for her; and he was no other than St. Josep=
h.
He said quite kindly, "Come, dear child, seat thyself on my little cha=
ir
by the fire, and warm thyself; I will fetch thee clear water if thou art
thirsty; but here in the forest, I have nothing for thee to eat but a coupl=
e of
little roots, which thou must first scrape and boil."
St.
Joseph gave her the roots. The girl scraped them clean, then she brought a
piece of pancake and the bread that her mother had given her to take with h=
er;
mixed all together in a pan, and cooked herself a thick soup. When it was
ready, St. Joseph said, "I am so hungry; give me some of thy food.&quo=
t;
The child was quite willing, and gave him more than she kept for herself, b=
ut
God's blessing was with her, so that she was satisfied. When they had eaten,
St. Joseph said, "Now we will go to bed; I have, however, only one bed,
lay thyself in it. I will lie on the ground on the straw." "No,&q=
uot;
answered she, "stay in your own bed, the straw is soft enough for
me." St. Joseph, however, took the child in his arms, and carried her =
into
the little bed, and there she said her prayers, and fell asleep. Next morni=
ng
when she awoke, she wanted to say good morning to St. Joseph, but she did n=
ot
see him. Then she got up and looked for him, but could not find him anywher=
e;
at last she perceived, behind the door, a bag with money so heavy that she
could just carry it, and on it was written that it was for the child who had
slept there that night. On this she took the bag, bounded away with it, and=
got
safely to her mother, and as she gave her mother all the money, she could n=
ot help
being satisfied with her.
The
next day, the second child also took a fancy to go into the forest. Her mot=
her
gave her a much larger piece of pancake and bread. It happened with her jus=
t as
with the first child. In the evening she came to St. Joseph's little hut, w=
ho
gave her roots for a thick soup. When it was ready, he likewise said to her,
"I am so hungry, give me some of thy food." Then the child said,
"You may have your share." Afterwards, when St. Joseph offered her
his bed and wanted to lie on the straw, she replied, "No, lie down in =
the
bed, there is plenty of room for both of us." St. Joseph took her in h=
is
arms and put her in the bed, and laid himself on the straw.
In the
morning when the child awoke and looked for St. Joseph, he had vanished, but
behind the door she found a little sack of money that was about as long as a
hand, and on it was written that it was for the child who had slept there l=
ast
night. So she took the little bag and ran home with it, and took it to her
mother, but she secretly kept two pieces for herself.
The
eldest daughter had by this time grown curious, and the next morning also
insisted on going out into the forest. Her mother gave her pancakes with
her---as many as she wanted, and bread and cheese as well. In the evening s=
he
found St. Joseph in his little hut, just as the two others had found him. W=
hen
the soup was ready and St. Joseph said, "I am so hungry, give me some =
of
thy food," the girl answered, "Wait until I am satisfied; then if
there is anything left thou shalt have it." She ate, however, nearly t=
he
whole of it, and St. Joseph had to scrape the dish. Afterwards, the good old
man offered her his bed, and wanted to lie on the straw. She took it without
making any opposition, laid herself down in the little bed, and left the ha=
rd
straw to the white-haired man. Next morning when she awoke, St. Joseph was =
not
to be found, but she did not trouble herself about that. She looked behind =
the
door for a money-bag. She fancied something was lying on the ground, but as=
she
could not very well distinguish what it was, she stooped down, and examined=
it
closely, but it remained hanging to her nose, and when she got up again, she
saw, to her horror, that it was a second nose, which was hanging fast to her
own. Then she began to scream and howl, but that did no good; she was force=
d to
see it always on her nose, for it stretched out so far. Then she ran out and
screamed without stopping till she met St. Joseph, at whose feet she fell a=
nd
begged until, out of pity, he took the nose off her again, and even gave her
two farthings. When she got home, her mother was standing before the door, =
and
asked, "What hast thou had given to thee?" Then she lied and said,
"A great bag of money, but I have lost it on the way." "Lost
it!" cried the mother, "oh, but we will soon find it again,"=
and
took her by the hand, and wanted to seek it with her. At first she began to
cry, and did not wish to go, but at last she went. On the way, however, so =
many
lizards and snakes broke loose on both of them, that they did not know how =
to
save themselves. At last they stung the wicked child to death, and they stu=
ng
the mother in the foot, because she had not brought her up better.
Three
hundred years before the birth of the Lord Christ, there lived a mother who=
had
twelve sons, but was so poor and needy that she no longer knew how she was =
to
keep them alive at all. She prayed to God daily that he would grant that all
her sons might be on the earth with the Redeemer who was promised. When her
necessity became still greater she sent one of them after the other out into
the world to seek bread for her. The eldest was called Peter, and he went o=
ut
and had already walked a long way, a whole day's journey, when he came into=
a
great forest. He sought for a way out, but could find none, and went farthe=
r and
farther astray, and at the same time felt such great hunger that he could
scarcely stand. At length he became so weak that he was forced to lie down,=
and
he believed death to be at hand. Suddenly there stood beside him a small boy
who shone with brightness, and was as beautiful and kind as an angel. The c=
hild
smote his little hands together, until Peter was forced to look up and saw =
him.
Then the child said, "Why art thou sitting there in such trouble?"
"Alas!" answered Peter, "I am going about the world seeking
bread, that I may yet see the dear Saviour who is promised, that is my grea=
test
desire." The child said, "Come with me, and thy wish shall be
fulfilled." He took poor Peter by the hand, and led him between some
cliffs to a great cavern. When they entered it, everything was shining with
gold, silver, and crystal, and in the midst of it twelve cradles were stand=
ing
side by side. Then said the little angel, "Lie down in the first, and
sleep a while, I will rock thee." Peter did so, and the angel sang to =
him
and rocked him until he was al seep. And when he was asleep, the second bro=
ther
came also, guided thither by his guardian angel, and he was rocked to sleep
like the first, and thus came the others, one after the other, until all tw=
elve
lay there sleeping in the golden cradles. They slept, however, three hundred
years, until the night when the Saviour of the world was born. Then they aw=
oke,
and were with him on earth, and were called the twelve apostles.
There
was once a poor woman who had two children. The youngest had to go every day
into the forest to fetch wood. Once when she had gone a long way to seek it=
, a
little child, who was quite strong, came and helped her industriously to pi=
ck
up the wood and carry it home, and then before a moment had passed the stra=
nge
child disappeared. The child told her mother this, but at first she would n=
ot
believe it. At length she brought a rose home, and told her mother that the
beautiful child had given her this rose, and had told her that when it was =
in
full bloom, he would return. The mother put the rose in water. One morning =
her
child could not get out of bed, the mother went to the bed and found her de=
ad,
but she lay looking very happy. On the same morning, the rose was in full
bloom.
There
was once a King's son who went out into the world, and he was full of thoug=
ht
and sad. He looked at the sky, which was so beautifully pure and blue, then=
he
sighed, and said, "How well must all be with one up there in heaven!&q=
uot;
Then he saw a poor gray-haired man who was coming along the road towards hi=
m,
and he spoke to him, and asked, "How can I get to heaven?" The man
answered, "By poverty and humility. Put on my ragged clothes, wander a=
bout
the world for seven years, and get to know what misery is, take no money, b=
ut
if thou art hungry ask compassionate hearts for a bit of bread; in this way
thou wilt reach heaven."
Then
the King's son took off his magnificent coat, and wore in its place the
beggar's garment, went out into the wide world, and suffered great misery. =
He
took nothing but a little food, said nothing, but prayed to the Lord to take
him into his heaven. When the seven years were over, he returned to his
father's palace, but no one recognized him. He said to the servants, "=
Go
and tell my parents that I have come back again." But the servants did=
not
believe it, and laughed and left him standing there. Then said he, "Go=
and
tell it to my brothers that they may come down, for I should so like to see
them again." The servants would not do that either, but at last one of
them went, and told it to the King's children, but these did not believe it,
and did not trouble themselves about it. Then he wrote a letter to his moth=
er,
and described to her all his misery, but he did not say that he was her son.
So, out of pity, the Queen had a place under the stairs assigned to him, and
food taken to him daily by two servants. But one of them was ill-natured and
said, "Why should the beggar have the good food?" and kept it for
himself, or gave it to the dogs, and took the weak, wasted-away beggar noth=
ing
but water; the other, however, was honest, and took the beggar what was sen=
t to
him. It was little, but he could live on it for a while, and all the time he
was quite patient, but he grew continually weaker. As, however, his illness
increased, he desired to receive the last sacrament. When the host was being
elevated down below, all the bells in the town and neighbourhood began to r=
ing.
After mass the priest went to the poor man under the stairs, and there he l=
ay
dead. In one hand he had a rose, in the other a lily, and beside him was a
paper in which was written his history.
When
he was buried, a rose grew on one side of his grave, and a lily on the othe=
r.
There
were once upon a time two sisters, one of whom had no children and was rich,
and the other had five and was a widow, and so poor that she no longer had =
food
enough to satisfy herself and her children. In her need, therefore, she wen=
t to
her sister, and said, "My children and I are suffering the greatest
hunger; thou art rich, give me a mouthful of bread." The very rich sis=
ter
was as hard as a stone, and said, "I myself have nothing in the
house," and drove away the poor creature with harsh words. After some =
time
the husband of the rich sister came home, and was just going to cut himself=
a
piece of bread, but when he made the first cut into the loaf, out flowed red
blood. When the woman saw that she was terrified and told him what had
occurred. He hurried away to help the widow and her children, but when he
entered her room, he found her praying. She had her two youngest children in
her arms, and the three eldest were lying dead. He offered her food, but she
answered, "For earthly food have we no longer any desire. God has alre=
ady
satisfied the hunger of three of us, and he will hearken to our supplicatio=
ns likewise."
Scarcely had she uttered these words than the two little ones drew their la=
st
breath, whereupon her heart broke, and she sank down dead.
There
was once on a time a hermit who lived in a forest at the foot of a mountain,
and passed his time in prayer and good works, and every evening he carried,=
to
the glory of God, two pails of water up the mountain. Many a beast drank of=
it,
and many a plant was refreshed by it, for on the heights above, a strong wi=
nd
blew continually, which dried the air and the ground, and the wild birds wh=
ich
dread mankind wheel about there, and with their sharp eyes search for a dri=
nk.
And because the hermit was so pious, an angel of God, visible to his eyes, =
went
up with him, counted his steps, and when the work was completed, brought him
his food, even as the prophet of old was by God's command fed by the raven.
When the hermit in his piety had already reached a great age, it happened t=
hat
he once saw from afar a poor sinner being taken to the gallows. He said
carelessly to himself, "There, that one is getting his deserts!" =
In
the evening, when he was carrying the water up the mountain, the angel who
usually accompanied him did not appear, and also brought him no food. Then =
he
was terrified, and searched his heart, and tried to think how he could have
sinned, as God was so angry, but he did not discover it. Then he neither ate
nor drank, threw himself down on the ground, and prayed day and night. And =
as
he was one day thus bitterly weeping in the forest, he heard a little bird
singing beautifully and delightfully, and then he was still more troubled a=
nd said,
"How joyously thou singest, the Lord is not angry with thee. Ah, if th=
ou
couldst but tell me how I can have offended him, that I might do penance, a=
nd
then my heart also would be glad again." Then the bird began to speak =
and
said, "Thou hast done injustice, in that thou hast condemned a poor si=
nner
who was being led to the gallows, and for that the Lord is angry with thee.=
He
alone sits in judgement. However, if thou wilt do penance and repent thy si=
ns,
he will forgive thee." Then the angel stood beside him with a dry bran=
ch
in his hand and said, "Thou shalt carry this dry branch until three gr=
een
twigs sprout out of it, but at night when thou wilt sleep, thou shalt lay it
under thy head. Thou shalt beg thy bread from door to door, and not tarry m=
ore
than one night in the same house. That is the penance which the Lord lays on
thee."
Then
the hermit took the piece of wood, and went back into the world, which he h=
ad
not seen for so long. He ate and drank nothing but what was given him at the
doors; many petitions were, however, not listened to, and many doors remain=
ed
shut to him, so that he often did not get a crumb of bread.
Once
when he had gone from door to door from morning till night, and no one had
given him anything, and no one would shelter him for the night, he went for=
th
into a forest, and at last found a cave which someone had made, and an old
woman was sitting in it. Then said he, "Good woman, keep me with you in
your house for this night;" but she said, "No, I dare not, even i=
f I
wished, I have three sons who are wicked and wild, if they come home from t=
heir
robbing expedition, and find you, they would kill us both." The hermit
said, "Let me stay, they will do no injury either to you or to me.&quo=
t;
and the woman was compassionate, and let herself be persuaded. Then the man=
lay
down beneath the stairs, and put the bit of wood under his head. When the o=
ld
woman saw him do that, she asked the reason of it, on which he told her tha=
t he
carried the bit of wood about with him for a penance, and used it at night =
for
a pillow, and that he had offended the Lord, because, when he had seen a po=
or
sinner on the way to the gallows, he had said he was getting his deserts. T=
hen
the woman began to weep and cried, "If the Lord thus punishes one sing=
le
word, how will it fare with my sons when they appear before him in
judgment?"
At
midnight the robbers came home and blustered and stormed. They made a fire,=
and
when it had lighted up the cave and they saw a man lying under the stairs, =
they
fell in a rage and cried to their mother, "Who is the man? Have we not
forbidden any one whatsoever to be taken in?" Then said the mother,
"Let him alone, it is a poor sinner who is expiating his crime." =
The
robbers asked, "What has he done?" "Old man," cried the=
y,
"tell us thy sins." The old man raised himself and told them how =
he,
by one single word, had so sinned that God was angry with him, and how he w=
as now
expiating this crime. The robbers were so powerfully touched in their heart=
s by
this story, that they were shocked with their life up to this time, reflect=
ed,
and began with hearty repentance to do penance for it. The hermit, after he=
had
converted the three sinners, lay down to sleep again under the stairs. In t=
he
morning, however, they found him dead, and out of the dry wood on which his
head lay, three green twigs had grown up on high. Thus the Lord had once mo=
re received
him into his favour.
Once
upon a time a waggoner's cart which was heavily laden with wine had stuck so
fast that in spite of all that he could do, he could not get it to move aga=
in.
Then it chanced that Our Lady just happened to come by that way, and when s=
he
perceived the poor man's distress, she said to him, "I am tired and
thirsty, give me a glass of wine, and I will set thy cart free for thee.&qu=
ot;
"Willingly," answered the waggoner, "but I have no glass in
which I can give thee the wine." Then Our Lady plucked a little white
flower with red stripes, called field bindweed, which looks very like a gla=
ss,
and gave it to the waggoner. He filled it with wine, and then Our Lady drank
it, and in the self-same instant the cart was set free, and the waggoner co=
uld
drive onwards. The little flower is still always called Our Lady's Little
Glass.
In a
large town there was an old woman who sat in the evening alone in her room
thinking how she had lost first her husband, then both her children, then o=
ne
by one all her relations, and at length, that very day, her last friend, and
now she was quite alone and desolate. She was very sad at heart, and heavie=
st
of all her losses to her was that of her sons; and in her pain she blamed G=
od
for it. She was still sitting lost in thought, when all at once she heard t=
he
bells ringing for early prayer. She was surprised that she had thus in her
sorrow watched through the whole night, and lighted her lantern and went to
church. It was already lighted up when she arrived, but not as it usually w=
as
with wax candles, but with a dim light. It was also crowded already with pe=
ople,
and all the seats were filled; and when the old woman got to her usual plac=
e it
also was not empty, but the whole bench was entirely full. And when she loo=
ked
at the people, they were none other than her dead relations who were sitting
there in their old-fashioned garments, but with pale faces. They neither sp=
oke
nor sang; but a soft humming and whispering was heard all over the church. =
Then
an aunt of hers stood up, stepped forward, and said to the poor old woman,
"Look there beside the altar, and thou wilt see thy sons." The old
woman looked there, and saw her two children, one hanging on the gallows, t=
he
other bound to the wheel. Then said the aunt, "Behold, so would it have
been with them if they had lived, and if the good God had not taken them to
himself when they were innocent children." The old woman went trembling
home, and on her knees thanked God for having dealt with her more kindly th=
an
she had been able to understand, and on the third day she lay down and died=
.
A poor
peasant-boy one day heard the priest say in church that whosoever desired to
enter into the kingdom of heaven must always go straight onward. So he set =
out,
and walked continually straight onwards over hill and valley without ever
turning aside. At length his way led him into a great town, and into the mi=
dst
of a church, where just at that time God's service was being performed. Now
when he beheld all the magnificence of this, he thought he had reached heav=
en,
sat down, and rejoiced with his whole heart. When the service was over, and=
the
clerk bade him go out, he replied, "No, I will not go out again, I am =
glad
to be in heaven at last." So the clerk went to the priest, and told him
that there was a child in the church who would not go out again, because he
believed he was in heaven. The priest said, "If he believes that, we w=
ill
leave him inside." So he went to him, and asked if he had any inclinat=
ion to
work. "Yes," the little fellow replied, "I am accustomed to
work, but I will not go out of heaven again." So he stayed in the chur=
ch, and
when he saw how the people came and knelt and prayed to Our Lady with the
blessed child Jesus which was carved in wood, he thought "that is the =
good
God," and said, "Dear God, how thin you are! The people must
certainly let you starve; but every day I will give you half my dinner.&quo=
t;
From this time forth, he every day took half his dinner to the image, and t=
he
image began to enjoy the food. When a few weeks had gone by, people remarked
that the image was growing larger and stout and strong, and wondered much. =
The
priest also could not understand it, but stayed in the church, and followed=
the
little boy about, and then he saw how he shared his food with the Virgin Ma=
ry,
and how she accepted it.
After
some time the boy became ill, and for eight days could not leave his bed; b=
ut
as soon as he could get up again, the first thing he did was to take his fo=
od
to Our Lady. The priest followed him, and heard him say, "Dear God, do=
not
take it amiss that I have not brought you anything for such a long time, fo=
r I
have been ill and could not get up." Then the image answered him and s=
aid,
"I have seen thy good-will, and that is enough for me. Next Sunday thou
shalt go with me to the wedding." The boy rejoiced at this, and repeat=
ed
it to the priest, who begged him to go and ask the image if he, too, might =
be
permitted to go. "No," answered the image, "thou alone."
The priest wished to prepare him first, and give him the holy communion and=
the
child was willing, and next Sunday, when the host came to him, he fell down=
and
died, and was at the eternal wedding.
One
afternoon the Christ-child had laid himself in his cradle-bed and had fallen
asleep. Then his mother came to him, looked at him full of gladness, and sa=
id,
"Hast thou laid thyself down to sleep, my child? Sleep sweetly, and in=
the
meantime I will go into the wood, and fetch thee a handful of strawberries,=
for
I know that thou wilt be pleased with them when thou awakest." In the =
wood
outside, she found a spot with the most beautiful strawberries; but as she =
was
stooping down to gather one, an adder sprang up out of the grass. She was
alarmed, left the strawberries where they were, and hastened away. The adder
darted after her; but Our Lady, as you can readily understand, knew what it=
was
best to do. She hid herself behind a hazel-bush, and stood there until the
adder had crept away again. Then she gathered the strawberries, and as she =
set out
on her way home she said, "As the hazel-bush has been my protection th=
is
time, it shall in future protect others also." Therefore, from the most
remote times, a green hazel-branch has been the safest protection against
adders, snakes, and everything else which creeps on the earth.