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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 him for 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, strike him in the face with it, but be sure that you hit him, and then just come back 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 other 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 standing. She rejoiced much to see them again, and carried them all over the water, and 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.” |
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 opened 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 healthy. But the two false sisters were burnt, and the daughter married the prince. |
97 The Water of Life |
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, and 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 was 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 life; 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 King, and begged to be allowed to go forth in search of the water of life, for that 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, then 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 there in the road who called to him and said, “Whither away so fast?” |
“Silly shrimp,” said the prince, very haughtily, “it is nothing 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 the 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 he yielded, so the prince set out on the same road that his brother had taken, and he too 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 neither go forwards nor backwards. So fare haughty people. |
As the second son also remained away, the youngest begged to be allowed to go forth 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, where 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 springs 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 will 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, and when he had appeased the lions with the bread, he entered the castle, and came to a large and splendid hall, wherein sat some enchanted princes whose rings 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 maiden who rejoiced when she saw him, kissed him, and told him that he had delivered 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 spring of the water of life was, and that he was to hasten and draw some of it before the clock struck twelve. Then he went onwards, and at last entered a room where 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 spring, 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 fell 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 before I did in search of the water of life, and have not returned.” “They are imprisoned between two mountains,” said the dwarf. “I have condemned them to stay there, because they were so haughty.” Then the prince begged 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, who was willing to wait a year for him, and then their wedding was to be celebrated 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 thought 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 entered two more countries where war and famine reigned and each time the prince gave 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 belongs 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, and took it for themselves, but into the cup they poured salt sea-water. Now therefore, 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 very 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 youngest of having intended to poison him, and said that they had brought him the true 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 went 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 sharper, and should have kept your eyes open. We took it from you whilst you were asleep 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 riding 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 sorrowful 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 royal 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 gratitude for it. The old King then thought, “Can my son have been innocent?” and said to his people, “Would that he were still alive, how it grieves me that I have suffered him to be killed!” “He still lives,” said the huntsman, “I could not find it in my heart to carry out your command,” and told the King how it had happened. Then a stone fell from the King’s heart, 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 the 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 daughter, 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 the 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. 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 celebrated 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 never came back as long as they lived. |
98 Doctor Knowall |
There was once on a time a poor peasant called Crabb, who drove with two oxen a load 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?” asked 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.” |
The peasant did everything that he had been told to do. When he had doctored people 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 know what had become of the money. So the lord had the horses put in his carriage, 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 wife, 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 with her at the table. And when the first servant came with a dish of delicate fare, the peasant nudged his wife, and said, “Grethe, that was the first,” meaning that was the servant who brought the first dish. The servant, however, thought 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, “The doctor knows all: we shall fare ill, he said I was the first.” The second did not want to go in at all, but was forced. So when he went in with his dish, the peasant nudged his wife, and said, “Grethe, that is the second.” This servant was just as much alarmed, and he got out. The third did not fare 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 doctor 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, all 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 him 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 will I search in my book where the gold is hidden.” The fifth servant, however, crept into the stove to hear if the doctor knew still more. |
The Doctor, however, sat still and opened his A B C book, turned the pages backwards and forwards, and looked for the cock. As he could not find it immediately he said, “I know 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. |
99 The Spirit in the Bottle |
There was once a poor woodcutter who toiled from early morning till late night. When at last he had laid by some money he said to his boy, “You are my only child, I will spend the money which 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 stiff 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 time. 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 it 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 helping to pile and stack wood and also chop it, the son said, “I will go with you and help you.” “Nay, my son,” said the father, “that would 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, “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 said, “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 forest, 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 peered 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 looked at it, and thought, “Many a bird must have built its nest in that.” Then all at once it seemed to him that he heard a voice. He listened and became 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 art thou?” The voice answered, “I am down here amongst the roots of the oak-tree. Let me out! Let me out!” The scholar began to loosen the earth 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, and 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 began to grow, and grew so fast that in a very few moments he stood before the scholar, 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 spirit; “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 must 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. Whoso 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 canst get in again, I will believe and then thou mayst do as thou wilt with me.” 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 neck of the bottle in again. Scarcely was he within than the scholar thrust the cork 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 that thou wilt have plenty all the days of thy life.” “No,” answered the boy, “thou wouldst cheat me as thou didst the first time.” “Thou art playing away with thy own good luck,” said the spirit; “I will 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 was 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 forgotten 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,” |
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 the 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 wherewithal, 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.” “Oh, thou blockhead,” cried the father, “wherewith wilt thou pay for it? 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 better take a holiday.” “Eh, what!” answered he, “Dost thou think I will sit with my hands lying in my lap like thee? I must go on working, but 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 see 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 goldsmith, who tested it, laid it in the scales, and said, “It is worth four hundred 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 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?” 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 back to the High School and went on learning more, and as he could heal all wounds with his plaster, he became the most famous doctor in the whole world. |
100 The Devil’s Sooty Brother |
A disbanded soldier had nothing to live on, and did not know how to get on. So 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, “What 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 life. 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 went 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 everything 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 duties, 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 took a good look on every side; the kettles were standing all round hell with a mighty 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 here? 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 second 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 make it really hot. Then he wanted to see who might be sitting up in the third kettle 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 hell, 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 poked 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 your 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 with his wages. |
Then as soon as he was up in the forest again, he took his knapsack 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 when 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?” “The 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, and at last lay down to sleep. But the knapsack full of gold remained before the eyes 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 the landlord and travel further, behold his knapsack was gone! But he soon composed himself and thought, “Thou hast been unfortunate from no fault of thine own,” 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 again full of sweepings, and said, “Go and tell the landlord that he must return you your money, or else I will come and fetch him, and he shall poke the fire 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 place, 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 man. |
He set out on his way home to his father, bought himself a shabby smock-frock to wear, 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, before 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 was to be married to a common fellow in a smock-frock, she said, “Rather than 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 whole kingdom likewise. |
101 Bearskin |
There was once a young fellow who enlisted as a soldier, conducted himself bravely, and was always the foremost when it rained bullets. So long as the war lasted, 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, and 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 took that on his shoulder, and went forth into the world. He came to a wide heath, 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 rustling, 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 bear, 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; “thou 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 coat and a cloak, which during this time thou must wear. If thou diest during these seven years, thou art mine; if thou remainest alive, thou art free, and rich 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 this 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 shall be thy cloak, and thy bed also, for thereon shalt thou sleep, and in no other 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 thing 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 his appearance was passable, but during the second he began to look like a monster. 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 that 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 would not receive him, and would not even let him have a place in the stable, because he was afraid the horses would be scared. But as Bearskin thrust his hand into 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, obliged 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 his 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 man perceived that Bearskin’s voice was human he let himself be prevailed on, and by kind words bearskin succeeded so far that the old man revealed the cause of his grief. His property had dwindled away by degrees, he and his daughters would have to starve, and he was so poor 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.” He caused the innkeeper to be brought thither, paid him and put a purse full 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 wife. When she hears what thou hast done for me, she will not refuse thee. Thou dost 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 him 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 better, for at any rate it wore a hussar’s dress and white gloves. If it were nothing 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 must be kept.” It was a pity that Bearskin’s face was covered with dirt and with hair, for if not they might have seen how delighted he was when he heard these words. He took a ring from his finger, broke it in two, and gave her one half, 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 his 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.” |