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 eat, 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
because 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, "Canst 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 looked 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." But there, too,
it was in vain. The man now wanted to go onwards, but the giant 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 brought out still older maps, and they never rested until they found
the golden castle of Stromberg, but it was many thousand miles away. "How
am I to get there?" asked the man. The giant said, "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, but 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 who 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 began 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 said
he had found a horse on which a man could ride everywhere, even up the
glass-mountain. 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 have 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 they were no longer able to see
him. So he gave them some vigorous blows and cried, "Now, vagabonds,
you have got what you deserve, are you satisfied?" 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
hall 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 up 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 aloud in their delight.* Then
he alighted and took the King's daughter in his arms, but she kissed him
and said, "Now hast thou set me free, and to-morrow we will celebrate
our wedding."
94 The Peasant's Wise Daughter
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
for 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 consent to this, and said, "Father, if we have the mortar without
having the pestle 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 asked if he had found nothing besides that? "No,"
answered the countryman. Then the King said 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 was 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 King 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 told 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, who asked her if she really was so wise, and
said he would set her a riddle, and if she could guess that, he would
marry her. She at once said yes, she would guess 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 herself
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 possessions.
Now when some years had passed, the King was once drawing up his troops
on parade, 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 some horses. There was one peasant who had three horses,
one of which was delivered 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 wanted 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 which 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 was about? He answered,
"I am fishing." The messenger asked how he could fish when there was no
water there? The peasant said, "It is as easy for me to fish on dry land
as it is for an ox to have a foal." The messenger 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, however,
would not do so, and said always, God forbid he should! the idea was
his own. 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
behaved so falsely to me? I will not have thee any longer for a wife;
thy time is up, 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, "Yes, 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 white 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 own
little house. She laid him in her own little bed, and he slept one day and
one night without awakening, and when he awoke he looked round and said,
"Good God! 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 and most precious in my eyes I have nothing more precious
and dear than yourself, so I have brought you with me." Tears rose to
the King's eyes and he said, "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.
95 Old Hildebrand
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 together. 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, and go on doing so until
Sunday when I have to preach, I will then say in my sermon 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 makes a
pilgrimage to the Göckerli hill in Italy, where you can get a peck of
laurel-leaves 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
Wednesday, 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 if I were going to die at once, but there is one thing
I should like to do before 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 all 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 husband, 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 wife, 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 well! The parson has preached to-day that whosoever had
at home a sick child, a sick 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 got 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 was, 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 hill, and on his way he met his gossip. His gossip was an
egg-merchant, and was just 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 one 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 kreuzer, 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 listen, gossip," said the egg-merchant to
the peasant, "are you, then, stupid 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!"
"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." 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 have 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
time for me, but as thou art here it can't be helped, come in, and take
a seat there 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
young 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 from 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 Hildebrand dear,
There on the bench by the 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 basket no longer I'll stay."
Hallelujah.
And he got out of the basket, and cudgelled the parson out of the house.
96 The Three Little Birds
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 their 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 right 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 him, 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, who 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 brought 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,
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 haste. 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, whom the false sisters likewise
took and threw into the water. Then up flew a little bird again and sang,
"To thy death art thou sped,
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 birth 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.
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 other 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 when 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, but 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 sought 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 water, 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
heard 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 straight 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 fountain, and with these
two things go back by the same way. Pick up the wand again from the
threshold and take it with you, and when you again pass by the dog,