Grimms' Fairy Tales - 03

out upon the high road; but as the weather was warm, they had not gone
far before the dog said, ‘I am very much tired--I should like to take a
nap.’ ‘Very well,’ answered the sparrow, ‘do so, and in the meantime
I will perch upon that bush.’ So the dog stretched himself out on the
road, and fell fast asleep. Whilst he slept, there came by a carter with
a cart drawn by three horses, and loaded with two casks of wine. The
sparrow, seeing that the carter did not turn out of the way, but would
go on in the track in which the dog lay, so as to drive over him, called
out, ‘Stop! stop! Mr Carter, or it shall be the worse for you.’ But the
carter, grumbling to himself, ‘You make it the worse for me, indeed!
what can you do?’ cracked his whip, and drove his cart over the poor
dog, so that the wheels crushed him to death. ‘There,’ cried the
sparrow, ‘thou cruel villain, thou hast killed my friend the dog. Now
mind what I say. This deed of thine shall cost thee all thou art worth.’
‘Do your worst, and welcome,’ said the brute, ‘what harm can you do me?’
and passed on. But the sparrow crept under the tilt of the cart, and
pecked at the bung of one of the casks till she loosened it; and then
all the wine ran out, without the carter seeing it. At last he looked
round, and saw that the cart was dripping, and the cask quite empty.
‘What an unlucky wretch I am!’ cried he. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ said
the sparrow, as she alighted upon the head of one of the horses, and
pecked at him till he reared up and kicked. When the carter saw this,
he drew out his hatchet and aimed a blow at the sparrow, meaning to kill
her; but she flew away, and the blow fell upon the poor horse’s head
with such force, that he fell down dead. ‘Unlucky wretch that I am!’
cried he. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ said the sparrow. And as the carter
went on with the other two horses, she again crept under the tilt of the
cart, and pecked out the bung of the second cask, so that all the wine
ran out. When the carter saw this, he again cried out, ‘Miserable wretch
that I am!’ But the sparrow answered, ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ and
perched on the head of the second horse, and pecked at him too. The
carter ran up and struck at her again with his hatchet; but away she
flew, and the blow fell upon the second horse and killed him on the
spot. ‘Unlucky wretch that I am!’ said he. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ said
the sparrow; and perching upon the third horse, she began to peck him
too. The carter was mad with fury; and without looking about him, or
caring what he was about, struck again at the sparrow; but killed his
third horse as he done the other two. ‘Alas! miserable wretch that I
am!’ cried he. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ answered the sparrow as she flew
away; ‘now will I plague and punish thee at thy own house.’ The
carter was forced at last to leave his cart behind him, and to go home
overflowing with rage and vexation. ‘Alas!’ said he to his wife, ‘what
ill luck has befallen me!--my wine is all spilt, and my horses all three
dead.’ ‘Alas! husband,’ replied she, ‘and a wicked bird has come into
the house, and has brought with her all the birds in the world, I am
sure, and they have fallen upon our corn in the loft, and are eating it
up at such a rate!’ Away ran the husband upstairs, and saw thousands of
birds sitting upon the floor eating up his corn, with the sparrow in the
midst of them. ‘Unlucky wretch that I am!’ cried the carter; for he saw
that the corn was almost all gone. ‘Not wretch enough yet!’ said the
sparrow; ‘thy cruelty shall cost thee thy life yet!’ and away she flew.
The carter seeing that he had thus lost all that he had, went down
into his kitchen; and was still not sorry for what he had done, but sat
himself angrily and sulkily in the chimney corner. But the sparrow sat
on the outside of the window, and cried ‘Carter! thy cruelty shall cost
thee thy life!’ With that he jumped up in a rage, seized his hatchet,
and threw it at the sparrow; but it missed her, and only broke the
window. The sparrow now hopped in, perched upon the window-seat, and
cried, ‘Carter! it shall cost thee thy life!’ Then he became mad and
blind with rage, and struck the window-seat with such force that he
cleft it in two: and as the sparrow flew from place to place, the carter
and his wife were so furious, that they broke all their furniture,
glasses, chairs, benches, the table, and at last the walls, without
touching the bird at all. In the end, however, they caught her: and the
wife said, ‘Shall I kill her at once?’ ‘No,’ cried he, ‘that is letting
her off too easily: she shall die a much more cruel death; I will eat
her.’ But the sparrow began to flutter about, and stretch out her neck
and cried, ‘Carter! it shall cost thee thy life yet!’ With that he
could wait no longer: so he gave his wife the hatchet, and cried, ‘Wife,
strike at the bird and kill her in my hand.’ And the wife struck; but
she missed her aim, and hit her husband on the head so that he fell down
dead, and the sparrow flew quietly home to her nest.


THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES

There was a king who had twelve beautiful daughters. They slept in
twelve beds all in one room; and when they went to bed, the doors were
shut and locked up; but every morning their shoes were found to be quite
worn through as if they had been danced in all night; and yet nobody
could find out how it happened, or where they had been.
Then the king made it known to all the land, that if any person could
discover the secret, and find out where it was that the princesses
danced in the night, he should have the one he liked best for his
wife, and should be king after his death; but whoever tried and did not
succeed, after three days and nights, should be put to death.
A king’s son soon came. He was well entertained, and in the evening was
taken to the chamber next to the one where the princesses lay in their
twelve beds. There he was to sit and watch where they went to dance;
and, in order that nothing might pass without his hearing it, the door
of his chamber was left open. But the king’s son soon fell asleep; and
when he awoke in the morning he found that the princesses had all been
dancing, for the soles of their shoes were full of holes. The same thing
happened the second and third night: so the king ordered his head to be
cut off. After him came several others; but they had all the same luck,
and all lost their lives in the same manner.
Now it chanced that an old soldier, who had been wounded in battle
and could fight no longer, passed through the country where this king
reigned: and as he was travelling through a wood, he met an old woman,
who asked him where he was going. ‘I hardly know where I am going, or
what I had better do,’ said the soldier; ‘but I think I should like very
well to find out where it is that the princesses dance, and then in time
I might be a king.’ ‘Well,’ said the old dame, ‘that is no very hard
task: only take care not to drink any of the wine which one of the
princesses will bring to you in the evening; and as soon as she leaves
you pretend to be fast asleep.’
Then she gave him a cloak, and said, ‘As soon as you put that on
you will become invisible, and you will then be able to follow the
princesses wherever they go.’ When the soldier heard all this good
counsel, he determined to try his luck: so he went to the king, and said
he was willing to undertake the task.
He was as well received as the others had been, and the king ordered
fine royal robes to be given him; and when the evening came he was led
to the outer chamber. Just as he was going to lie down, the eldest of
the princesses brought him a cup of wine; but the soldier threw it all
away secretly, taking care not to drink a drop. Then he laid himself
down on his bed, and in a little while began to snore very loud as if
he was fast asleep. When the twelve princesses heard this they laughed
heartily; and the eldest said, ‘This fellow too might have done a wiser
thing than lose his life in this way!’ Then they rose up and opened
their drawers and boxes, and took out all their fine clothes, and
dressed themselves at the glass, and skipped about as if they were eager
to begin dancing. But the youngest said, ‘I don’t know how it is, while
you are so happy I feel very uneasy; I am sure some mischance will
befall us.’ ‘You simpleton,’ said the eldest, ‘you are always afraid;
have you forgotten how many kings’ sons have already watched in vain?
And as for this soldier, even if I had not given him his sleeping
draught, he would have slept soundly enough.’
When they were all ready, they went and looked at the soldier; but he
snored on, and did not stir hand or foot: so they thought they were
quite safe; and the eldest went up to her own bed and clapped her hands,
and the bed sank into the floor and a trap-door flew open. The soldier
saw them going down through the trap-door one after another, the eldest
leading the way; and thinking he had no time to lose, he jumped up, put
on the cloak which the old woman had given him, and followed them;
but in the middle of the stairs he trod on the gown of the youngest
princess, and she cried out to her sisters, ‘All is not right; someone
took hold of my gown.’ ‘You silly creature!’ said the eldest, ‘it is
nothing but a nail in the wall.’ Then down they all went, and at the
bottom they found themselves in a most delightful grove of trees; and
the leaves were all of silver, and glittered and sparkled beautifully.
The soldier wished to take away some token of the place; so he broke
off a little branch, and there came a loud noise from the tree. Then the
youngest daughter said again, ‘I am sure all is not right--did not you
hear that noise? That never happened before.’ But the eldest said, ‘It
is only our princes, who are shouting for joy at our approach.’
Then they came to another grove of trees, where all the leaves were of
gold; and afterwards to a third, where the leaves were all glittering
diamonds. And the soldier broke a branch from each; and every time there
was a loud noise, which made the youngest sister tremble with fear; but
the eldest still said, it was only the princes, who were crying for joy.
So they went on till they came to a great lake; and at the side of the
lake there lay twelve little boats with twelve handsome princes in them,
who seemed to be waiting there for the princesses.
One of the princesses went into each boat, and the soldier stepped into
the same boat with the youngest. As they were rowing over the lake, the
prince who was in the boat with the youngest princess and the soldier
said, ‘I do not know why it is, but though I am rowing with all my might
we do not get on so fast as usual, and I am quite tired: the boat
seems very heavy today.’ ‘It is only the heat of the weather,’ said the
princess: ‘I feel it very warm too.’
On the other side of the lake stood a fine illuminated castle, from
which came the merry music of horns and trumpets. There they all landed,
and went into the castle, and each prince danced with his princess; and
the soldier, who was all the time invisible, danced with them too; and
when any of the princesses had a cup of wine set by her, he drank it
all up, so that when she put the cup to her mouth it was empty. At this,
too, the youngest sister was terribly frightened, but the eldest always
silenced her. They danced on till three o’clock in the morning, and then
all their shoes were worn out, so that they were obliged to leave off.
The princes rowed them back again over the lake (but this time the
soldier placed himself in the boat with the eldest princess); and on the
opposite shore they took leave of each other, the princesses promising
to come again the next night.
When they came to the stairs, the soldier ran on before the princesses,
and laid himself down; and as the twelve sisters slowly came up very
much tired, they heard him snoring in his bed; so they said, ‘Now all
is quite safe’; then they undressed themselves, put away their fine
clothes, pulled off their shoes, and went to bed. In the morning the
soldier said nothing about what had happened, but determined to see more
of this strange adventure, and went again the second and third night;
and every thing happened just as before; the princesses danced each time
till their shoes were worn to pieces, and then returned home. However,
on the third night the soldier carried away one of the golden cups as a
token of where he had been.
As soon as the time came when he was to declare the secret, he was taken
before the king with the three branches and the golden cup; and the
twelve princesses stood listening behind the door to hear what he would
say. And when the king asked him. ‘Where do my twelve daughters dance at
night?’ he answered, ‘With twelve princes in a castle under ground.’ And
then he told the king all that had happened, and showed him the three
branches and the golden cup which he had brought with him. Then the king
called for the princesses, and asked them whether what the soldier said
was true: and when they saw that they were discovered, and that it was
of no use to deny what had happened, they confessed it all. And the king
asked the soldier which of them he would choose for his wife; and he
answered, ‘I am not very young, so I will have the eldest.’--And they
were married that very day, and the soldier was chosen to be the king’s
heir.


THE FISHERMAN AND HIS WIFE

There was once a fisherman who lived with his wife in a pigsty, close
by the seaside. The fisherman used to go out all day long a-fishing; and
one day, as he sat on the shore with his rod, looking at the sparkling
waves and watching his line, all on a sudden his float was dragged away
deep into the water: and in drawing it up he pulled out a great fish.
But the fish said, ‘Pray let me live! I am not a real fish; I am an
enchanted prince: put me in the water again, and let me go!’ ‘Oh, ho!’
said the man, ‘you need not make so many words about the matter; I will
have nothing to do with a fish that can talk: so swim away, sir, as soon
as you please!’ Then he put him back into the water, and the fish darted
straight down to the bottom, and left a long streak of blood behind him
on the wave.
When the fisherman went home to his wife in the pigsty, he told her how
he had caught a great fish, and how it had told him it was an enchanted
prince, and how, on hearing it speak, he had let it go again. ‘Did not
you ask it for anything?’ said the wife, ‘we live very wretchedly here,
in this nasty dirty pigsty; do go back and tell the fish we want a snug
little cottage.’
The fisherman did not much like the business: however, he went to the
seashore; and when he came back there the water looked all yellow and
green. And he stood at the water’s edge, and said:
‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’
Then the fish came swimming to him, and said, ‘Well, what is her will?
What does your wife want?’ ‘Ah!’ said the fisherman, ‘she says that when
I had caught you, I ought to have asked you for something before I let
you go; she does not like living any longer in the pigsty, and wants
a snug little cottage.’ ‘Go home, then,’ said the fish; ‘she is in the
cottage already!’ So the man went home, and saw his wife standing at the
door of a nice trim little cottage. ‘Come in, come in!’ said she; ‘is
not this much better than the filthy pigsty we had?’ And there was a
parlour, and a bedchamber, and a kitchen; and behind the cottage there
was a little garden, planted with all sorts of flowers and fruits; and
there was a courtyard behind, full of ducks and chickens. ‘Ah!’ said the
fisherman, ‘how happily we shall live now!’ ‘We will try to do so, at
least,’ said his wife.
Everything went right for a week or two, and then Dame Ilsabill said,
‘Husband, there is not near room enough for us in this cottage; the
courtyard and the garden are a great deal too small; I should like to
have a large stone castle to live in: go to the fish again and tell him
to give us a castle.’ ‘Wife,’ said the fisherman, ‘I don’t like to go to
him again, for perhaps he will be angry; we ought to be easy with this
pretty cottage to live in.’ ‘Nonsense!’ said the wife; ‘he will do it
very willingly, I know; go along and try!’
The fisherman went, but his heart was very heavy: and when he came to
the sea, it looked blue and gloomy, though it was very calm; and he went
close to the edge of the waves, and said:
‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’
‘Well, what does she want now?’ said the fish. ‘Ah!’ said the man,
dolefully, ‘my wife wants to live in a stone castle.’ ‘Go home, then,’
said the fish; ‘she is standing at the gate of it already.’ So away went
the fisherman, and found his wife standing before the gate of a great
castle. ‘See,’ said she, ‘is not this grand?’ With that they went into
the castle together, and found a great many servants there, and the
rooms all richly furnished, and full of golden chairs and tables; and
behind the castle was a garden, and around it was a park half a
mile long, full of sheep, and goats, and hares, and deer; and in the
courtyard were stables and cow-houses. ‘Well,’ said the man, ‘now we
will live cheerful and happy in this beautiful castle for the rest of
our lives.’ ‘Perhaps we may,’ said the wife; ‘but let us sleep upon it,
before we make up our minds to that.’ So they went to bed.
The next morning when Dame Ilsabill awoke it was broad daylight, and
she jogged the fisherman with her elbow, and said, ‘Get up, husband,
and bestir yourself, for we must be king of all the land.’ ‘Wife, wife,’
said the man, ‘why should we wish to be the king? I will not be king.’
‘Then I will,’ said she. ‘But, wife,’ said the fisherman, ‘how can you
be king--the fish cannot make you a king?’ ‘Husband,’ said she, ‘say
no more about it, but go and try! I will be king.’ So the man went away
quite sorrowful to think that his wife should want to be king. This time
the sea looked a dark grey colour, and was overspread with curling waves
and the ridges of foam as he cried out:
‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’
‘Well, what would she have now?’ said the fish. ‘Alas!’ said the poor
man, ‘my wife wants to be king.’ ‘Go home,’ said the fish; ‘she is king
already.’
Then the fisherman went home; and as he came close to the palace he saw
a troop of soldiers, and heard the sound of drums and trumpets. And when
he went in he saw his wife sitting on a throne of gold and diamonds,
with a golden crown upon her head; and on each side of her stood six
fair maidens, each a head taller than the other. ‘Well, wife,’ said the
fisherman, ‘are you king?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I am king.’ And when he had
looked at her for a long time, he said, ‘Ah, wife! what a fine thing it
is to be king! Now we shall never have anything more to wish for as long
as we live.’ ‘I don’t know how that may be,’ said she; ‘never is a long
time. I am king, it is true; but I begin to be tired of that, and I
think I should like to be emperor.’ ‘Alas, wife! why should you wish to
be emperor?’ said the fisherman. ‘Husband,’ said she, ‘go to the fish!
I say I will be emperor.’ ‘Ah, wife!’ replied the fisherman, ‘the fish
cannot make an emperor, I am sure, and I should not like to ask him for
such a thing.’ ‘I am king,’ said Ilsabill, ‘and you are my slave; so go
at once!’
So the fisherman was forced to go; and he muttered as he went along,
‘This will come to no good, it is too much to ask; the fish will be
tired at last, and then we shall be sorry for what we have done.’ He
soon came to the seashore; and the water was quite black and muddy, and
a mighty whirlwind blew over the waves and rolled them about, but he
went as near as he could to the water’s brink, and said:
‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’
‘What would she have now?’ said the fish. ‘Ah!’ said the fisherman,
‘she wants to be emperor.’ ‘Go home,’ said the fish; ‘she is emperor
already.’
So he went home again; and as he came near he saw his wife Ilsabill
sitting on a very lofty throne made of solid gold, with a great crown on
her head full two yards high; and on each side of her stood her guards
and attendants in a row, each one smaller than the other, from the
tallest giant down to a little dwarf no bigger than my finger. And
before her stood princes, and dukes, and earls: and the fisherman went
up to her and said, ‘Wife, are you emperor?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I am
emperor.’ ‘Ah!’ said the man, as he gazed upon her, ‘what a fine thing
it is to be emperor!’ ‘Husband,’ said she, ‘why should we stop at being
emperor? I will be pope next.’ ‘O wife, wife!’ said he, ‘how can you be
pope? there is but one pope at a time in Christendom.’ ‘Husband,’ said
she, ‘I will be pope this very day.’ ‘But,’ replied the husband, ‘the
fish cannot make you pope.’ ‘What nonsense!’ said she; ‘if he can make
an emperor, he can make a pope: go and try him.’
So the fisherman went. But when he came to the shore the wind was raging
and the sea was tossed up and down in boiling waves, and the ships were
in trouble, and rolled fearfully upon the tops of the billows. In the
middle of the heavens there was a little piece of blue sky, but towards
the south all was red, as if a dreadful storm was rising. At this sight
the fisherman was dreadfully frightened, and he trembled so that his
knees knocked together: but still he went down near to the shore, and
said:
‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’
‘What does she want now?’ said the fish. ‘Ah!’ said the fisherman, ‘my
wife wants to be pope.’ ‘Go home,’ said the fish; ‘she is pope already.’
Then the fisherman went home, and found Ilsabill sitting on a throne
that was two miles high. And she had three great crowns on her head, and
around her stood all the pomp and power of the Church. And on each side
of her were two rows of burning lights, of all sizes, the greatest as
large as the highest and biggest tower in the world, and the least no
larger than a small rushlight. ‘Wife,’ said the fisherman, as he looked
at all this greatness, ‘are you pope?’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I am pope.’
‘Well, wife,’ replied he, ‘it is a grand thing to be pope; and now
you must be easy, for you can be nothing greater.’ ‘I will think about
that,’ said the wife. Then they went to bed: but Dame Ilsabill could not
sleep all night for thinking what she should be next. At last, as she
was dropping asleep, morning broke, and the sun rose. ‘Ha!’ thought she,
as she woke up and looked at it through the window, ‘after all I cannot
prevent the sun rising.’ At this thought she was very angry, and wakened
her husband, and said, ‘Husband, go to the fish and tell him I must
be lord of the sun and moon.’ The fisherman was half asleep, but the
thought frightened him so much that he started and fell out of bed.
‘Alas, wife!’ said he, ‘cannot you be easy with being pope?’ ‘No,’
said she, ‘I am very uneasy as long as the sun and moon rise without my
leave. Go to the fish at once!’
Then the man went shivering with fear; and as he was going down to
the shore a dreadful storm arose, so that the trees and the very rocks
shook. And all the heavens became black with stormy clouds, and the
lightnings played, and the thunders rolled; and you might have seen in
the sea great black waves, swelling up like mountains with crowns of
white foam upon their heads. And the fisherman crept towards the sea,
and cried out, as well as he could:
‘O man of the sea!
Hearken to me!
My wife Ilsabill
Will have her own will,
And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!’
‘What does she want now?’ said the fish. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘she wants to
be lord of the sun and moon.’ ‘Go home,’ said the fish, ‘to your pigsty
again.’
And there they live to this very day.


THE WILLOW-WREN AND THE BEAR

Once in summer-time the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest,
and the bear 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.’ In reality the bird was
the willow-wren. ‘IF that’s the case,’ said the bear, ‘I should very
much like to see his royal palace; come, take me thither.’ ‘That is not
done quite as you seem to think,’ said the wolf; ‘you must wait until
the Queen comes,’ Soon afterwards, the Queen arrived with some food in
her beak, and the lord King came too, and they began to feed their 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
Queen have gone away again.’ So they took stock of the hole where the
nest lay, and trotted away. The bear, however, could not rest until he
had seen the royal palace, and when a short time had passed, went to it
again. The King and Queen had just flown out, so he peeped in and saw
five or six young ones lying there. ‘Is that the royal palace?’ cried
the bear; ‘it is a wretched palace, and you are not King’s children, you
are disreputable children!’ When the young wrens heard that, they were
frightfully angry, and screamed: ‘No, that we are not! Our parents are
honest people! Bear, you will have 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 said: ‘Be easy, he shall
be punished,’ and he at once flew with the Queen to the bear’s cave, and
called in: ‘Old Growler, why have you insulted my children? You shall
suffer for it--we will punish you by a bloody war.’ Thus war was
announced to the Bear, and all four-footed animals were summoned to take
part in it, oxen, asses, cows, deer, and every other animal the earth
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 discover 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 leaf of the tree where the password was to be
announced. There stood the bear, and he called the fox before him
and said: ‘Fox, you are the most cunning of all animals, you shall 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 plume 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, down to the minutest
detail, to the willow-wren. When day broke, and the battle was to begin,
all the four-footed animals came running up with such a noise that the
earth trembled. The willow-wren with his army also came flying through
the air 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 settle
beneath the fox’s tail, and sting with all his might. When the fox felt
the first string, he started so that he lifted one leg, from pain, but
he bore it, and still kept his tail high in the air; at the second