there dwelt a King who had eleven sons, and one daughter, the beautiful
Elise. The eleven brothers (they were princes) went to school with stars
on their breasts and swords by their sides; they wrote on golden tablets
with diamond pens, and could read either with a book or without one--in
short, it was easy to perceive that they were princes. Their sister
Elise used to sit upon a little glass stool, and had a picture-book
which had cost the half of a kingdom. Oh, the children were so happy!
but happy they were not to remain always.
Their father the King married a very wicked Queen, who was not at all
kind to the poor children; they found this out on the first day after
the marriage, when there was a grand gala at the palace; for when the
children played at receiving company, instead of having as many cakes
and sweetmeats as they liked, the Queen gave them only some sand in a
little dish, and told them to imagine that was something nice.
The week after, she sent the little Elise to be brought up by some
peasants in the country, and it was not long before she told the King so
many falsehoods about the poor princes that he would have nothing more
to do with them.
‘Away, out into the world, and take care of yourselves,’ said the wicked
Queen; ‘fly away in the form of great speechless birds.’ But she could
not make their transformation so
[Illustration]
disagreeable as she wished,--the Princes were changed into eleven white
swans. Sending forth a strange cry, they flew out of the palace windows,
over the park and over the wood.
It was still early in the morning when they passed by the place where
Elise lay sleeping in the peasant’s cottage; they flew several times
round the roof, stretched their long necks, and flapped their wings, but
no one either heard or saw them; they were forced to fly away, up to the
clouds and into the wide world, so on they went to the forest, which
extended as far as the sea-shore.
The poor little Elise stood in the peasant’s cottage amusing herself
with a green leaf, for she had no other plaything. She pricked a hole in
the leaf and peeped through it at the sun, and then she fancied she saw
her brother’s bright eyes, and whenever the warm sunbeams shone full
upon her cheeks, she thought of her brother’s kisses.
One day passed exactly like the other. When the wind blew through the
thick hedge of rose-trees in front of the house, she would whisper to
the roses, ‘Who is more beautiful than you?’ but the roses would shake
their heads and say, ‘Elise.’ And when the peasant’s wife sat on Sundays
at the door of her cottage reading her hymn-book, the wind would rustle
in the leaves and say to the book, ‘Who is more pious than
thou?’--‘Elise,’ replied the hymn-book. And what the roses and the
hymn-book said, was no more than the truth.
Elise was now fifteen years old, she was sent for home; but when the
Queen saw how beautiful she was, she hated her the more, and would
willingly have transformed her like her brothers into a wild swan, but
she dared not do so, because the King wished to see his daughter.
So the next morning the Queen went into a bath which was made of marble,
and fitted up with soft pillows and the gayest carpets; she took three
toads, kissed them, and said to one, ‘Settle thou upon Elise’s head that
she may become dull and sleepy like thee.’--‘Settle thou upon her
forehead,’ said she to another, ‘and let her become ugly like thee, so
that her father may not know her again.’ And ‘Do thou place thyself upon
her bosom,’ whispered she to the third, ‘that her heart may become
corrupt and evil, a torment to herself.’ She then put the toads into the
clear water, which was immediately tinted with a green colour, and
having called Elise, took off her clothes and made her get into the
bath--one toad settled among her hair, another on her forehead, and the
third upon her bosom, but Elise seemed not at all aware of it; she rose
up and three poppies were seen swimming on the water. Had not the
animals been poisonous and kissed by a witch, they would have been
changed into roses whilst they remained on Elise’s head and heart--she
was too good for magic to have any power over her. When the Queen
perceived this, she rubbed walnut juice all over the maiden’s skin, so
that it became quite swarthy, smeared a nasty salve over her lovely
face, and entangled her long thick hair,--it was impossible to recognise
the beautiful Elise after this.
When her father saw her he was shocked, and said she could not be his
daughter; no one would have anything to do with her but the mastiff and
the swallows; but they, poor things, could not say anything in her
favour.
Poor Elise wept, and thought of her eleven brothers, not one of whom she
saw at the palace. In great distress she stole away and wandered the
whole day over fields and moors, till she reached the forest. She knew
not where to go, but she was so sad, and longed so much to see her
brothers, who had been driven out into the world, that she determined to
seek and find them.
She had not been long in the forest when night came on, and she lost her
way amid the darkness. So she lay down on the soft moss, said her
evening prayer, and leaned her head against the trunk of a tree. It was
so still in the forest, the air was mild, and from the grass and mould
around gleamed the green light of many hundred glowworms, and when Elise
lightly touched one of the branches hanging over her, bright insects
fell down upon her like falling stars.
All the night long she dreamed of her brothers. They were all children
again, played together, wrote with diamond pens upon golden tablets, and
looked at the pictures in the beautiful book which had cost half of a
kingdom. But they did not as formerly make straight strokes and pothooks
upon the tablets; no, they wrote of the bold actions they had performed,
and the strange adventures they had encountered, and in the picture-book
everything seemed alive--the birds sang, men and women stepped from the
book and talked to Elise and her brothers; however, when she turned over
the leaves, they jumped back into their places, so that the pictures did
not get confused together.
When Elise awoke the sun was already high in the heavens. She could not
see it certainly, for the tall trees of the forest entwined their
thickly leaved branches closely together, which, as the sunbeams played
upon them, looked like a golden veil waving to and fro. And the air was
so fragrant, and the birds perched upon Elise’s shoulders. She heard the
noise of water, there were several springs forming a pool, with the
prettiest pebbles at the bottom, bushes were growing thickly round, but
the deer had trodden a broad path through them, and by this path Elise
went down to the water’s edge. The water was so clear that had not the
boughs and bushes around been moved to and fro by the wind, you might
have fancied they were painted upon the smooth surface, so distinctly
was each little leaf mirrored upon it, whether glowing in the sunlight
or lying in the shade.
As soon as Elise saw her face reflected in the water, she was quite
startled, so brown and ugly did it look; however, when she wetted her
little hand, and rubbed her brow and eyes, the white skin again
appeared.--So Elise took off her clothes, stepped into the fresh water,
and in the whole world there was not a king’s daughter more beautiful
than she then appeared.
After she had again dressed herself, and had braided her long hair, she
went to the bubbling spring, drank out of the hollow of her hand, and
then wandered farther into the forest. She knew not where she was going,
but she thought of her brothers, and of the good God who, she felt,
would never forsake her. He it was who made the wild crab-trees grow in
order to feed the hungry, and who showed her a tree whose boughs bent
under the weight of their fruit. She made her noonday meal under its
shade, propped up the boughs, and then walked on amid the dark twilight
of the forest. It was so still that she could hear her own footsteps,
and the rustling of each little withered leaf that was crushed beneath
her feet; not a bird was to be seen, not a single sunbeam penetrated
through the thick foliage, and the tall stems of the trees stood so
close together, that when she looked straight before her, she seemed
enclosed by trellis-work upon trellis-work. Oh! there was a solitariness
in this forest such as Elise had never known before.
And the night was so dark! not a single glowworm sent forth its light.
Sad and melancholy she lay down to sleep, and then it seemed to her as
though the boughs above her opened, and that she saw the Angel of God
looking down upon her with gentle aspect, and a thousand little cherubs
all around
[Illustration: SO ELISE TOOK OFF HER CLOTHES AND STEPPED INTO THE
WATER]
him. When she awoke in the morning she could not tell whether this was a
dream, or whether she had really been so watched.
She walked on a little farther and met an old woman with a basket full
of berries; the old woman gave her some of them, and Elise asked if she
had not seen eleven princes ride through the wood.
‘No,’ said the old woman, ‘but I saw yesterday eleven Swans with golden
crowns on their heads swim down the brook near this place.’
And she led Elise on a little farther to a precipice, the base of which
was washed by a brook; the trees on each side stretched their long leafy
branches towards each other, and where they could not unite, the roots
had disengaged themselves from the earth and hung their interlaced
fibres over the water.
Elise bade the old woman farewell, and wandered by the side of the
stream till she came to the place where it reached the open sea.
The great, the beautiful sea lay extended before the maiden’s eyes, but
not a ship, not a boat was to be seen; how was she to go on? She
observed the numberless little stones on the shore, all of which the
waves had washed into a round form; glass, iron, stone, everything that
lay scattered there, had been moulded into shape, and yet the water
which had effected this was much softer than Elise’s delicate little
hand. ‘It rolls on unweariedly,’ said she, ‘and subdues what is so hard;
I will be no less unwearied! Thank you for the lesson you have given me,
ye bright rolling waves; some day, my heart tells me, you shall carry me
to my dear brothers!’
There lay upon the wet sea-grass eleven white swan-feathers; Elise
collected them together; drops of water hung about them, whether dew or
tears she could not tell. She was quite alone on the sea-shore, but she
did not care for that; the sea presented an eternal variety to her, more
indeed in a few hours than the gentle inland waters would have offered
in a whole year. When a black cloud passed over the sky, it seemed as if
the sea would say, ‘I too can look dark,’ and then the wind would blow
and the waves fling out their white foam; but when the clouds shone with
a bright red tint, and the winds were asleep, the sea also became like a
rose-leaf in hue; it was now green, now white, but as it reposed
peacefully, a slight breeze on the shore caused the water to heave
gently like the bosom of a sleeping child.
At sunset Elise saw eleven Wild Swans with golden crowns on their heads
fly towards the land; they flew one behind another, looking like a
streaming white ribbon. Elise climbed the precipice, and concealed
herself behind a bush; the swans settled close to her, and flapped their
long white wings.
As the sun sank beneath the water, the swans also vanished, and in their
place stood eleven handsome princes, the brothers of Elise. She uttered
a loud cry, for although they were very much altered, Elise knew that
they were, felt that they must be, her brothers; she ran into their
arms, called them by their names--and how happy were _they_ to see and
recognise their sister, who was now grown so tall and so beautiful! They
laughed and wept, and soon told each other how wickedly their
step-mother had acted towards them.
‘We,’ said the eldest of the brothers, ‘fly or swim as long as the sun
is above the horizon, but when it sinks below, we appear again in our
human form; we are therefore obliged to look out for a safe
resting-place, for if at sunset we were flying among the clouds, we
should fall down as soon as we resumed our own form. We do not dwell
here, a land quite as beautiful as this lies on the opposite side of the
sea, but it is far off. To reach it, we have to cross the deep waters,
and there is no island midway on which we may rest at night; one little
solitary rock rises from the waves, and upon it we only just find room
enough to stand side by side. There we spend the night in our human
form, and when the sea is rough, we are sprinkled by its foam; but we
are thankful for this resting-place, for without it we
[Illustration: AND MET AN OLD WOMAN WITH A BASKET FULL OF BERRIES]
should never be able to visit our dear native country. Only once in the
year is this visit to the home of our fathers permitted; we require two
of the longest days for our flight, and can remain here only eleven
days, during which time we fly over the large forest, whence we can see
the palace in which we were born, where our father dwells, and the tower
of the church in which our mother was buried. Here even the trees and
bushes seem of kin to us, here the wild horses still race over the
plains, as in the days of our childhood, here the charcoal-burner still
sings the same old tunes to which we used to dance in our youth, here we
are still attracted, and here we have found thee, thou dear little
sister! We have yet two days longer to stay here, then we must fly over
the sea to a land beautiful indeed, but not our fatherland. How shall we
take thee with us? we have neither ship nor boat!’
‘How shall I be able to release you?’ said the sister. And so they went
on talking almost the whole of the night. They slumbered only a few
hours.
Elise was awakened by the rustling of swans’ wings which were fluttering
above her. Her brothers were again transformed, and for some time flew
around in large circles. At last they flew far, far away; one of them
remained behind, it was the youngest; he laid his head in her lap and
she stroked his white wings; they remained the whole day together.
Towards evening the others came back, and when the sun was set, again
they stood on the firm ground in their natural form.
‘To-morrow we shall fly away, and may not return for a year, but we
cannot leave thee; hast thou courage to accompany us? My arm is strong
enough to bear thee through the forest; shall we not have sufficient
strength in our wings to transport thee over the sea?’
‘Yes, take me with you,’ said Elise. They spent the whole night in
weaving a mat of the pliant willow bark and the tough rushes, and their
mat was thick and strong. Elise lay down upon it, and when the sun had
risen, and the brothers were again transformed into wild swans, they
seized the mat with their beaks and flew up high among the clouds with
their dear sister, who was still sleeping. The sunbeams shone full upon
her face, so one of the swans flew over her head, and shaded her with
his broad wings.
They were already far from land when Elise awoke: she thought she was
still dreaming, so strange did it appear to her to be travelling through
the air, and over the sea. By her side lay a cluster of pretty berries,
and a handful of savoury roots. Her youngest brother had collected and
laid them there; and she thanked him with a smile, for she knew him as
the swan who flew over her head and shaded her with his wings.
They flew so high, that the first ship they saw beneath them seemed like
a white sea-gull hovering over the water. Elise saw behind her a large
cloud, it looked like a mountain, and on it she saw the gigantic shadows
of herself and the eleven swans--it formed a picture more splendid than
any she had ever yet seen; soon, however, the sun rose higher, the cloud
remained far behind, and then the floating shadowy picture disappeared.
The whole day they continued flying with a whizzing noise somewhat like
an arrow, but yet they went slower than usual--they had their sister to
carry. A heavy tempest was gathering, the evening approached; anxiously
did Elise watch the sun, it was setting. Still the solitary rock could
not be seen; it appeared to her that the swans plied their wings with
increasing vigour. Alas! it would be her fault if her brothers did not
arrive at the place in time; they would become human beings when the sun
set, and if this happened before they reached the rock, they must fall
into the sea, and be drowned. She prayed to God most fervently, still no
rock was to be seen; the black clouds drew nearer, violent gusts of wind
announced the approach of a tempest, the clouds rested perpendicularly
upon a fearfully large wave which rolled quickly forwards, one flash of
lightning rapidly succeeded another.
The sun was now on the rim of the sea. Elise’s heart beat violently; the
swans shot downwards so swiftly that she thought she must fall, but
again they began to hover; the sun was half sunk beneath the water, and
at that moment she saw the little rock below her; it looked like a
seal’s head when he raises it just above the water. And the sun was
sinking fast,--it seemed scarcely larger than a star,--her foot touched
the hard ground, and it vanished altogether, like the last spark on a
burnt piece of paper. Arm in arm stood her brothers around her--there
was only just room for her and them; the sea beat tempestuously against
the rock, flinging over them a shower of foam; the sky seemed in a
continual blaze, with the fast-succeeding flashes of fire that lightened
it, and peal after peal rolled on the thunder, but sister and brothers
kept firm hold of each other’s hands. They sang a psalm, and their psalm
gave them comfort and courage.
[Illustration: NOT A BOAT WAS TO BE SEEN]
By daybreak the air was pure and still, and as soon as the sun rose, the
swans flew away with Elise from the rock. The waves rose higher and
higher, and when they looked from the clouds down upon the
blackish-green sea, covered as it was with white foam, they might have
fancied that millions of swans were swimming on its surface.
As day advanced, Elise saw floating in the air before her a land of
mountains intermixed with glaciers, and in the centre a palace a mile in
length, with splendid colonnades, surrounded by palm-trees and
gorgeous-looking flowers as large as mill-wheels. She asked if this were
the country to which they were flying, but the swans shook their heads,
for what she saw was the beautiful airy castle of the fairy Morgana,
where no human being was admitted; and whilst Elise still bent her eyes
upon it, mountains, trees, and castle all disappeared, and in their
place stood twelve churches with high towers and pointed windows--she
fancied she heard the organ play, but it was only the murmur of the sea.
She was now close to these churches, but behold! they have changed into
a large fleet sailing under them; she looked down and saw it was only a
sea-mist passing rapidly over the water. An eternal variety floated
before her eyes, till at last the actual land to which she was going
appeared in sight. Beautiful blue mountains, cedar woods, towns, and
castles rose to view. Long before sunset Elise sat down among the
mountains, in front of a large cavern; delicate young creepers grew
around so thickly, that it appeared covered with gay embroidered
carpets.
‘Now we shall see what thou wilt dream of to-night!’ said her youngest
brother, as he showed her the sleeping-chamber destined for her.
‘Oh that I could dream how you might be released from the spell!’ said
she; and this thought completely occupied her. She prayed most earnestly
for God’s assistance, nay, even in her dreams she continued praying, and
it appeared to her that she was flying up high in the air towards the
castle of the fairy Morgana. The fairy came forward to meet her, radiant
and beautiful, and yet she fancied she resembled the old woman who had
given her berries in the forest, and told her of the swans with golden
crowns.
‘Thou _canst_ release thy brothers,’ said she, ‘but hast thou courage
and patience sufficient? The water is indeed softer than thy delicate
hands, and yet can mould the hard stones to its will, but then it cannot
feel the pain which thy tender fingers will feel; it has no heart, and
cannot suffer the anxiety and grief which thou must suffer. Dost thou
see these stinging-nettles which I have in my hand? There are many of
the same kind growing round the cave where thou art sleeping; only those
that grow there or on the graves in the church-yard are of use, remember
that! Thou must pluck them, although they will sting thy hand; thou must
trample on the nettles with thy feet, and get yarn from them, and with
this yarn thou must weave eleven shirts with long sleeves;--throw them
over the eleven wild swans, and the spell is broken. But mark this: from
the moment that thou beginnest thy work till it is completed, even
should it occupy thee for years, thou must not speak a word; the first
syllable that escapes thy lips will fall like a dagger into the hearts
of thy brothers; on thy tongue depends their life. Mark well all this!’
And at the same moment the fairy touched Elise’s hands with a nettle,
which made them burn like fire, and Elise awoke. It was broad daylight,
and close to her lay a nettle like the one she had seen in her dream.
She fell upon her knees, thanked God, and then went out of the cave in
order to begin her work. She plucked with her own delicate hands the
disagreeable stinging-nettles; they burned large blisters on her hands
and arms, but she bore the pain willingly in the hope of releasing her
dear brothers. She trampled on the nettles with her naked feet, and spun
the green yarn.
At sunset came her brothers. Elise’s silence quite frightened them, they
thought it must be the effect of some fresh spell of their wicked
step-mother; but when they saw her blistered hands, they found out what
their sister was doing for their sakes. The youngest brother wept, and
when his tears fell upon her hands, Elise felt no more pain, the
blisters disappeared.
The whole night she spent in her work, for she could not rest till she
had released her brothers. All the following days she sat in her
solitude, for the swans had flown away; but never had time passed so
quickly. One shirt was ready; she now began the second.
[Illustration: THERE WAS ONLY JUST ROOM FOR HER AND THEM]
Suddenly a hunting-horn resounded among the mountains. Elise was
frightened. The noise came nearer, she heard the hounds barking; in
great terror she fled into the cave, bound up the nettles which she had
gathered and combed into a bundle, and sat down upon it.
In the same moment a large dog sprang out from the bushes; two others
immediately followed; they barked loudly, ran away and then returned. It
was not long before the hunters stood in front of the cave; the
handsomest among them was the King of that country; he stepped up to
Elise. Never had he seen a lovelier maiden.
‘How camest thou here, thou beautiful child?’ said he. Elise shook her
head; she dared not speak, a word might have cost her the life of her
brothers; and she hid her hands under her apron lest the King should see
how she was suffering.
‘Come with me,’ said he, ‘thou must not stay here! If thou art good as
thou art beautiful, I will dress thee in velvet and silk, I will put a
gold crown upon thy head, and thou shalt dwell in my palace!’ So he
lifted her upon his horse, while she wept and wrung her hands; but the
King said, ‘I only desire thy happiness! thou shalt thank me for this
some day!’ and away he rode over mountains and valleys, holding her on
his horse in front, whilst the other hunters followed. When the sun set,
the King’s magnificent capital with its churches and cupolas lay before
them, and the King led Elise into the palace, where, in a high marble
hall, fountains were playing, and the walls and ceiling displayed the
most beautiful paintings. But Elise cared not for all this splendour;
she wept and mourned in silence, even whilst some female attendants
dressed her in royal robes, wove costly pearls in her hair, and drew
soft gloves over her blistered hands.
And now she was full dressed, and as she stood in her splendid attire,
her beauty was so dazzling, that the courtiers all bowed low before her;
and the King chose her for his bride, although the Archbishop shook his
head, and whispered that the ‘beautiful lady of the wood must certainly
be a witch, who had blinded their eyes, and infatuated the King’s
heart.’