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EUROPA'S
FAIRY TALES
"_Do tell us a fairy tale, ganpa._"
"_Well, will you be good and quiet if I do?_"
"_Of course we will; we are always good when you are telling
us fairy tales._"
"_Well, here goes.--Once upon a time, though it wasn't in my
time, and it wasn't in your time, and it wasn't in anybody
else's time, there was a----_"
"_But that would be no time at all._"
"_That's fairy tale time._"
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The Marshal tells how he killed the Dragon_]
EUROPA'S
FAIRY BOOK
RESTORED AND RETOLD BY
JOSEPH JACOBS
DONE INTO PICTURES BY
JOHN D. BATTEN
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
COPYRIGHT, 1916
BY
JOSEPH JACOBS
* * * * *
To
PEGGY, AND MADGE, AND PEARL, AND MAGGIE,
AND MARGUERITE, AND PEGGOTTY, AND MEG,
AND MARJORY, AND DAISY, AND PEGG, AND
MARGARET HAYS
(How many granddaughters does that make?)
MY DEAR LITTLE PEGGY:--
Many, many, many years ago I wrote a book for your Mummey--when she
was my little May--telling the fairy tales which the little boys and
girls of England used to hear from their mummeys, who had heard them
from their mummeys years and years and years before. My friend Mr.
Batten made such pretty pictures for it--but of course you know the
book--it has "Tom, Tit, Tot" and "The little old woman that went to
market," and all those tales you like. Now I have been making a
fairy-tale book for your own self, and here it is. This time I have
told, again the fairy tales that all the mummeys of Europe have been
telling their little Peggys, Oh for ever so many years! They must have
liked them because they have spread from Germany to Russia, from Italy
to France, from Holland to Scotland, and from England to Norway, and
from every country in Europe that you will read about in your
geography to every other one. Mr. Batten, who made the pictures for
your mummey's book, has made some more for yours--isn't it good of
him when he has never seen you?
Though this book is your very, very own, you will not mind if other
little girls and boys also get copies of it from their mummeys and
papas and ganmas and ganpas, for when you meet some of them you will,
all of you, have a number of common friends like "The Cinder-Maid," or
"The Earl of Cattenborough," or "The Master-Maid," and you can talk to
one another about them so that you are old friends at once. Oh, won't
that be nice? And when one of these days you go over the Great Sea, in
whatever land you go, you will find girls and boys, as well as
grown-ups, who will know all of these tales, even if they have
different names. Won't that be nice too?
And when you tell your new friends here or abroad of these stories
that you and they will know so well, do not forget to tell them that
you have a book, all of your very own, which was made up specially for
you of these old, old stories by your old, old
GANPA.
P.S.--Do you hear me calling as I always do, "Peggy, Peggy"? Then you
must answer as usual, "Ganpa, Ganpa."
* * * * *
PREFACE
Ever since--almost exactly a hundred years ago--the Grimms produced
their Fairy Tale Book, folk-lorists have been engaged in making
similar collections for all the other countries of Europe, outside
Germany, till there is scarcely a nook or a corner in the whole
continent that has not been ransacked for these products of the
popular fancy. The Grimms themselves and most of their followers have
pointed out the similarity or, one might even say, the identity of
plot and incident of many of these tales throughout the European
Folk-Lore field. Von Hahn, when collecting the Greek and Albanian
Fairy Tales in 1864, brought together these common "formulae" of the
European Folk-Tale. These were supplemented by Mr. S. Baring-Gould in
1868, and I myself in 1892 contributed an even fuller list to the
_Hand Book of Folk-Lore_. Most, if not all of these formulae, have been
found in all the countries of Europe where folk-tales have been
collected. In 1893 Miss M. Roalfe Cox brought together, in a volume of
the Folk-Lore Society, no less than 345 variants of "Cinderella" and
kindred stories showing how widespread this particular formula was
throughout Europe and how substantially identical the various
incidents as reproduced in each particular country.
It has occurred to me that it would be of great interest and, for
folk-lore purposes, of no little importance, to bring together these
common Folk-Tales of Europe, retold in such a way as to bring out the
original form from which all the variants were derived. I am, of
course, aware of the difficulty and hazardous nature of such a
proceeding; yet it is fundamentally the same as that by which scholars
are accustomed to restore the _Ur_-text from the variants of different
families of MSS. and still more similar to the process by which Higher
Critics attempt to restore the original narratives of Holy Writ. Every
one who has had to tell fairy tales to children will appreciate the
conservative tendencies of the child mind; every time you vary an
incident the children will cry out, "That was not the way you told us
before." The Folk-Tale collections can therefore be assumed to retain
the original readings with as much fidelity as most MSS. That there
was such an original rendering eminating from a single folk artist no
serious student of Miss Cox's volume can well doubt. When one finds
practically the same "tags" of verse in such different dialects as
Danish and Romaic, German and Italian, one cannot imagine that these
sprang up independently in Denmark, Greece, Germany, and Florence. The
same phenomenon is shown in another field of Folk-Lore where, as the
late Mr. Newell showed, the same rhymes are used to brighten up the
same children's games in Barcelona and in Boston; one cannot imagine
them springing up independently in both places. So, too, when the same
incidents of a fairy tale follow in the same artistic concatenation in
Scotland, and in Sicily, in Brittany, and in Albania, one cannot but
assume that the original form of the story was hit upon by one
definite literary artist among the folk. What I have attempted to do
in this book is to restore the original form, which by a sort of
international selection has spread throughout all the European folks.
But while I have attempted thus to restore the original substance of
the European Folk-Tales, I have ever had in mind that the particular
form in which they are to appear is to attract English-speaking
children. I have, therefore, utilized the experience I had some years
ago in collecting and retelling the Fairy Tales of the English
Folk-Lore field (_English Fairy Tales_, _More English Fairy Tales_),
in order to tell these new tales in the way which English-speaking
children have abundantly shown they enjoy. In other words, while the
plot and incidents are "common form" throughout Europe, the manner in
which I have told the stories is, so far as I have been able to
imitate it, that of the English story-teller.
I have indeed been conscious throughout of my audience of little ones
and of the reverence due to them. Whenever an original incident, so
far as I could penetrate to it, seemed to me too crudely primitive for
the children of the present day, I have had no scruples in modifying
or mollifying it, drawing attention to such Bowdlerization in the
somewhat elaborate notes at the end of the volume, which I trust will
be found of interest and of use to the serious student of the
Folk-Tale.
It must, of course, be understood that the tales I now give are only
those found practically identical in all European countries. Besides
these there are others which are peculiar to each of the countries or
only found in areas covered by cognate languages like the Celtic or
the Scandinavian. Of these I have already covered the English and the
Celtic fields, and may, one of these days, extend my collections to
the French and Scandinavian or the Slavonic fields. Meanwhile it may
be assumed that the stories that have pleased all European children
for so long a time are, by a sort of international selection, best
fitted to survive, and that the Fairy Tales that follow are the
choicest gems in the Fairy Tale field. I can only express the hope
that I have succeeded in placing them in an appropriate setting.
It remains only to thank those of my colleagues and friends who have
aided in various ways in the preparation of this volume, though of
course their co-operation does not, in the slightest, imply
responsibility for or approval of the method of treatment I have
applied to the old, old stories. Miss Roalfe Cox was good enough to
look over my reconstruction of "Cinderella" and suggest alterations in
it. Prof. Crane gave me permission to utilize the version of the
"Dancing Water," in his Italian Popular Tales. Sir James G. Frazer
looked through my restoration of the "Language of Animals," which was
suggested by him many years ago; and Mr. E. S. Hartland criticized the
Swan-Maiden story. I have also to thank my old friend and publisher,
Dr. G. H. Putnam, for the personal interest he has taken in the
progress of the book.
J. J.
YONKERS, N. Y.
July, 1915.
* * * * *
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE v
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii
I.--CINDER-MAID 1
II.--ALL CHANGE 13
III.--THE KING OF THE FISHES 19
IV.--SCISSORS 31
V.--BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 34
VI.--REYNARD AND BRUIN 42
VII.--THE DANCING WATER, SINGING APPLE, AND SPEAKING BIRD 51
VIII.--THE LANGUAGE OF ANIMALS 66
IX.--THE THREE SOLDIERS 72
X.--A DOZEN AT A BLOW 81
XI.--THE EARL OF CATTENBOROUGH 90
XII.--THE SWAN MAIDENS 98
XIII.--ANDROCLES AND THE LION 107
XIV.--DAY DREAMING 110
XV.--KEEP COOL 115
XVI.--THE MASTER THIEF 121
XVII.--THE UNSEEN BRIDEGROOM 129
XVIII.--THE MASTER-MAID 142
XIX.--A VISITOR FROM PARADISE 159
XX.--INSIDE AGAIN 165
XXI.--JOHN THE TRUE 170
XXII.--JOHNNIE AND GRIZZLE 180
XXIII.--THE CLEVER LASS 188
XXIV.--THUMBKIN 194
XXV.--SNOWWHITE 201
NOTES 215
LIST OF INCIDENTS 263
* * * * *
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
THE MARSHAL TELLS HOW HE KILLED THE DRAGON
_Frontispiece_
THE HERALD ANNOUNCES THE COURT BALL 1
THE SOLDIER LAYS A HONEY TRAP 6
THE STEP-SISTER CUTS OFF HER TOE 9
"WILL YOU MIND MY PEA?" 13
THE SEVEN-HEADED DRAGON 19
THE MARSHAL TELLS HOW HE KILLED THE DRAGON 25
SCISSORS 31
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 39
REYNARD 42
BRUIN GETS A BEATING 45
BRUIN CARRIES REYNARD 46
THE FOSTER MOTHER 55
THE KING BEGS PARDON 64
THE GIRL AND THE FROG 66
THE POPE IS ELECTED 70
THE MAGIC PURSE 73
THE PRINCESS FINDS HORNS ON HER HEAD 79
THE UNICORN 81
THE EARL OF CATTENBOROUGH WILL BE PLEASED TO PARTAKE OF A POTATO 90
THE CAT AND THE OGRE 96
"HAD YOU NOT BETTER THROW ME INTO THE MILLSTREAM?" 97
THE CHILD FINDS THE FEATHER DRESS 98
THE DOLPHIN WHO CAME LATE 102
EAST O' THE SUN AND WEST O' THE MOON 105
ANDROCLES AND THE LION 107
DAY-DREAMING 110
THE PIG'S TAIL 120
THE DUMMY 121
ANIMA GOES DOWN THE HOLE 129
THE LAMP 133
THE DOG 139
THE CASKET 140
THE MASTER-MAID WITH THE GLASS AXE 142
THE PRINCE WANTS HIS LUNCH 145
THE GIANT TRIES TO DRINK THE STREAM 154
THE VISITOR 159
UP THE TREE 163
THE SNAKE 165
THE THREE RAVENS 170
THE WOUNDED DRAGON 179
THE WITCH 180
THE DUCK 187
"MIRROR, MIRROR, ON THE WALL, WHO IS THE FAIREST OF US ALL?" 201
SNOWWHITE AND THE THREE DWARFS 211
* * * * *
[Illustration: The Herald Announces the Court Ball]
THE CINDER-MAID
Once upon a time, though it was not in my time or in your time, or in
anybody else's time, there was a great King who had an only son, the
Prince and Heir who was about to come of age. So the King sent round a
herald who should blow his trumpet at every four corners where two
roads met. And when the people came together he would call out, "O
yes, O yes, O yes, know ye that His Grace the King will give on Monday
sennight"--that meant seven nights or a week after--"a Royal Ball to
which all maidens of noble birth are hereby summoned; and be it
furthermore known unto you that at this ball his Highness the Prince
will select unto himself a lady that shall be his bride and our future
Queen. God save the King."
Now there was among the nobles of the King's Court one who had married
twice, and by the first marriage he had but one daughter, and as she
was growing up her father thought that she ought to have some one to
look after her. So he married again, a lady with two daughters, and
his new wife, instead of caring for his daughter, thought only of her
own and favoured them in every way. She would give them beautiful
dresses but none to her step-daughter who had only to wear the
cast-off clothes of the other two. The noble's daughter was set to do
all the drudgery of the house, to attend the kitchen fire, and had
naught to sleep on but the heap of cinders raked out in the scullery;
and that is why they called her Cinder-Maid. And no one took pity on
her and she would go and weep at her mother's grave where she had
planted a hazel tree, under which she sat.
You can imagine how excited they all were when they heard the King's
proclamation called out by the herald. "What shall we wear, mother;
what shall we wear?" cried out the two daughters, and they all began
talking about which dress should suit the one and what dress should
suit the other, but when the father suggested that Cinder-Maid should
also have a dress they all cried out: "What, Cinder-Maid going to the
King's Ball; why, look at her, she would only disgrace us all." And
so her father held his peace.
Now when the night came for the Royal Ball Cinder-Maid had to help the
two sisters to dress in their fine dresses and saw them drive off in
the carriage with her father and their mother. But she went to her own
mother's grave and sat beneath the hazel tree and wept and cried out:
"Tree o'mine, O tree o'me,
With my tears I've watered thee;
Make me a lady fair to see,
Dress me as splendid as can be."
And with that the little bird on the tree called out to her,
"Cinder-Maid, Cinder-Maid, shake the tree,
Open the first nut that you see."
So Cinder-Maid shook the tree and the first nut that fell she took up
and opened, and what do you think she saw?--a beautiful silk dress
blue as the heavens, all embroidered with stars, and two little lovely
shoon made of shining copper. And when she had dressed herself the
hazel tree opened and from it came a coach all made of copper with
four milk-white horses, with coachman and footmen all complete. And as
she drove away the little bird called out to her:
"Be home, be home ere mid-o'night
Or else again you'll be a fright."
When Cinder-Maid entered the ball-room she was the loveliest of all
the ladies and the Prince, who had been dancing with her step-sisters,
would only dance with her. But as it came towards midnight Cinder-Maid
remembered what the little bird had told her and slipped away to her
carriage. And when the Prince missed her he went to the guards at the
Palace door and told them to follow the carriage. But Cinder-Maid when
she saw this, called out:
"Mist behind and light before,
Guide me to my father's door."
And when the Prince's soldiers tried to follow her there came such a
mist that they couldn't see their hands before their faces. So they
couldn't find which way Cinder-Maid went.
When her father and step-mother and two sisters came home after the
ball they could talk of nothing but the lovely lady: "Ah, would not
you have liked to have been there?" said the sisters to Cinder-Maid as
she helped them to take off their fine dresses. "There was a most
lovely lady with a dress like the heavens and shoes of bright copper,
and the Prince would dance with none but her; and when midnight came
she disappeared and the Prince could not find her. He is going to give
a second ball in the hope that she will come again. Perhaps she will
not, and then we will have our chance."
When the time of the second Royal Ball came round the same thing
happened as before; the sisters teased Cinder-Maid saying, "Wouldn't
you like to come with us?" and drove off again as before. And
Cinder-Maid went again to the hazel tree over her mother's grave and
cried:
"Tree o'mine, O tree o'me,
Shiver and shake, dear little tree
Make me a lady fair to see,
Dress me as splendid as can be."
And then the little bird on the tree called out:
"Cinder-Maid, Cinder-Maid, shake the tree,
Open the first nut that you see."
But this time she found a dress all golden brown like the earth
embroidered with flowers, and her shoon were made of silver; and when
the carriage came from the tree, lo and behold, that was made of
silver too, drawn by black horses with trappings all of silver, and
the lace on the coachman's and footmen's liveries was also of silver;
and when Cinder-Maid went to the ball the Prince would dance with none
but her; and when midnight came round she fled as before. But the
Prince, hoping to prevent her running away, had ordered the soldiers
at the foot of the stair-case to pour out honey on the stairs so that
her shoes would stick in it. But Cinder-Maid leaped from stair to
stair and got away just in time, calling out as the soldiers tried to
follow her:
"Mist behind and light before,
Guide me to my father's door."
[Illustration: The Soldier Lays a Honey Trap]
And when her sisters got home they told her once more of the beautiful
lady that had come in a silver coach and silver shoon and in a dress
all embroidered with flowers: "Ah, wouldn't you have liked to have
been there?" said they.
Once again the Prince gave a great ball in the hope that his unknown
beauty would come to it. All happened as before; as soon as the
sisters had gone Cinder-Maid went to the hazel tree over her mother's
grave and called out:
"Tree o'mine, O tree o'me
Shiver and quiver, dear little tree;
Make me a lady fair to see,
Dress me as splendid as can be."
And then the little bird appeared and said:
"Cinder-Maid, Cinder-Maid, shake the tree
Open the first nut that you see."
And when she opened the nut in it was a dress of silk green as the sea
with waves upon it, and her shoes this time were made of gold; and
when the coach came out of the tree it was also made of gold, with
gold trappings for the horses and for the retainers. And as she drove
off the little bird from the tree called out:
"Be home, be home ere mid-o'night
Or else again you'll be a fright."
Now this time, when Cinder-Maid came to the ball, she was as desirous
to dance only with the Prince as he with her, and so, when midnight
came round, she had forgotten to leave till the clock began to strike,
one--two--three--four--five--six,--and then she began to run away down
the stairs as the clock struck, eight--nine--ten. But the Prince had
told his soldiers to put tar upon the lower steps of the stairs; and
as the clock struck eleven her shoes stuck in the tar, and when she
jumped to the foot of the stairs one of her golden shoes was left
behind, and just then the clock struck TWELVE, and the golden coach,
with its horses and footmen, disappeared, and the beautiful dress of
Cinder-Maid changed again into her ragged clothes and she had to run
home with only one golden shoe.
You can imagine how excited the sisters were when they came home and
told Cinder-Maid all about it, how that the beautiful lady had come in
a golden coach in a dress like the sea, with golden shoes, and how all
had disappeared at midnight except the golden shoe. "Ah, wouldn't you
have liked to have been there?" said they.
Now when the Prince found out that he could not keep his lady-love nor
trace where she had gone he spoke to his father and showed him the
golden shoe, and told him that he would never marry any one but the
maiden who could wear that shoe. So the King, his father, ordered the
herald to take round the golden shoe upon a velvet cushion and to go
to every four corners where two streets met and sound the trumpet and
call out: "O yes, O yes, O yes, be it known unto you all that
whatsoever lady of noble birth can fit this shoe upon her foot shall
become the bride of his Highness the Prince and our future Queen. God
save the King."
[Illustration: The Step-Sister Cuts off her Toe]
And when the herald came to the house of Cinder-Maid's father the
eldest of her two step-sisters tried on the golden shoe. But it was
much too small for her, as it was for every other lady that had tried
it up to that time; but she went up into her room and with a sharp
knife cut off one of her toes and part of her heel, and then fitted
her foot into the shoe, and when she came down she showed it to the
herald, who sent a message to the Palace saying that the lady had been
found who could wear the golden shoe. Thereupon the Prince jumped at
once upon his horse and rode to the house of Cinder-Maid's father. But
when he saw the step-sister with the golden shoe, "Ah," he said, "but
this is not the lady." "But," she said, "you promised to marry the one
that could wear the golden shoe." And the Prince could say nothing,
but offered to take her on his horse to his father's Palace, for in
those days ladies used to ride on a pillion at the back of the
gentleman riding on horseback. Now as they were riding towards the
Palace her foot began to drip with blood, and the little bird from the
hazel tree that had followed them called out:
"Turn and peep, turn and peep,
There's blood within the shoe;
A bit is cut from off the heel
And a bit from off the toe."
And the Prince looked down and saw the blood streaming from her shoe
and then he knew that this was not his true bride, and he rode back to
the house of Cinder-Maid's father; and then the second sister tried
her chance; but when she found that her foot wouldn't fit the shoe she
did the same as her sister, but all happened as before. The little
bird called out:
"Turn and peep, turn and peep,
There's blood within the shoe;
A bit is cut from off the heel
And a bit from off the toe."
And the Prince took her back to her mother's house, and then he asked,
"Have you no other daughter?" and the sisters cried out, "No, sir."
But the father said, "Yes, I have another daughter." And the sisters
cried out, "Cinder-Maid, Cinder-Maid, she could not wear that shoe."
But the Prince said, "As she is of noble birth she has a right to try
the shoe." So the herald went down to the kitchen and found
Cinder-Maid; and when she saw her golden shoe she took it from him and
put it on her foot, which it fitted exactly; and then she took the
other golden shoe from underneath the cinders where she had hidden it
and put that on too. Then the herald knew that she was the true bride
of his master; and he took her upstairs to where the Prince was; when
he saw her face, he knew that she was the lady of his love. So he
took her behind him upon his horse; and as they rode to the Palace,
the little bird from the hazel tree cried out:
"Some cut their heel, and some cut their toe,
But she sat by the fire who could wear the shoe."
And so they were married and lived happy ever afterwards.
[Illustration: "Will you Mind my Pea?"]
ALL CHANGE
There was once a man who was the laziest man in all the world. He
wouldn't take off his clothes when he went to bed because he didn't
want to have to put them on again. He wouldn't raise his cup to his
lips but went down and sucked up his tea without carrying the cup. He
wouldn't play any sports because he said they made him sweat. And he
wouldn't work with his hands for the same reason. But at last he found
that he couldn't get anything to eat unless he did some work for it.
So he hired himself out to a farmer for the season. But all through
the harvest he ate as much and he worked as little as he could; and
when the fall came and he went to get his wages from his master all he
got was a single pea. "What do you mean by giving me this?" he said to
his master. "Why, that is all that your labor is worth," was the
reply. "You have eaten as much as you have earned." "None of your
lip," said the man; "give me my pea; at any rate I have earned that."
So when he got it he went to an inn by the roadside and said to the
landlady, "Can you give me lodging for the night, me and my pea?"
"Well, no," said the landlady, "I haven't got a bed free, but I can
take care of your pea for you." No sooner said than done. The pea was
lodged with the landlady, and the laziest man went and lay in a barn
near-by.
The landlady put the pea upon a dresser and left it there, and a
chicken wandering by saw it and jumped up on the dresser and ate it.
So when the laziest man called the next day and asked for his pea the
landlady couldn't find it. She said, "The chicken must have swallowed
it." "Well, I want my pea," said the man. "You had better give me the
chicken." "Why, what--when--how?" stammered the landlady. "The chicken
is worth thousands of your pea." "I don't care for that; it has got my
pea inside it, and the only way I can get my pea is to have that which
holds the pea." "What, give you my chicken for a single pea,
nonsense!" "Well, if you don't I'll summon you before the justice."
"Ah, well, take the chicken and my bad wishes with it."
So off went the man and sauntered along all day, till that night he
came to another inn, and asked the landlord if he and his chicken
could stop there. He said, "No, no, we have no room for you, but we
can put your chicken in the stable if you like." So the man said,
"Yes," and went off for the night. But there was a savage sow in the
stable, and during the night she ate up the poor chicken. And when the
man came the next morning he said to the landlord, "Please give me my
chicken." "I am awfully sorry, sir," said he, "but my sow has eaten it
up." The laziest man said, "Then give me your sow." "What, a sow for
your chicken, nonsense; go away, my man." "Then if you don't do that
I'll have you before the justice." "Ah, well, take the sow and my
curses with it," said the landlord.
And the man took the sow and followed it along the road till he came
to another inn, and said to the landlady, "Have you room for me and my
sow?" "I have not," said the landlady, "but I can put your sow up." So
the sow was put in the stable, and the man went off to lie in the barn
for the night. Now the sow went roaming about the stable, and coming
too near the hoofs of the mare, was hit in the forehead and killed by
the mare's hoofs. So when the man came in the morning and asked for
his sow the landlady said, "I'm very sorry, sir, but an accident has
occurred; my mare has hit your sow in the skull and she is dead."
"What, the mare?" "No, your sow." "Then give me the mare." "What, my
mare for your sow, nonsense." "Well, if you don't I'll take you before
the justice; you'll see if it's nonsense." So after some time the
landlady agreed to give the man her mare in exchange for the dead sow.
Then the man followed on in the steps of the mare till he came to
another inn, and asked the landlord if he could put him up for the
night, him and his mare. The landlord said, "All our beds are full,
but you can put the mare up in the stable if you will." "Very well,"
said the man, and tied the halter of the mare into the ring of the
stable. Next morning early the landlord's daughter said to her father,
"That poor mare has had nothing to drink; I'll go and lead it to the
river." "That is none of your business," said the landlord; "let the
man do it himself." "Ah, but the poor thing has had nothing to drink.
I'll bring it back soon." So the girl took the mare to the river brink
and let it drink the water; but, by chance, the mare slipped into the
stream, which was so strong that it carried the mare away. And the
young girl ran back to her mother and said, "Oh mother, the mare fell
into the stream and it was carried quite away. What shall we do? What
shall we do?"
When the man came round that morning he said, "Please give me my
mare." "I'm very sorry indeed, sir, but my daughter--that one
there--wanted to give the poor thing a drink and took it down to the
river and it fell in and was carried away by the stream; I'm very
sorry indeed." "Your sorrow won't pay my loss," said the man; "the
least you can do is to give me your daughter." "What, my daughter to
you because of the mare!" "Well, if you don't I will take you before
the justice." Now the landlord didn't like going before the justice.
So after much haggling he agreed to let his daughter go with the man.
And they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till at
last they came to another inn which was kept by the girl's aunt,
though the man didn't know it. So he went in and said, "Can you give
me beds for me and my girl here?" So the landlady looked at the girl
who said nothing, and said, "Well, I haven't got a bed for you but I
have got a bed for her; but perhaps she'll run away." "Oh, I will
manage that," said the man. And he went and got a sack and put the
girl in it and tied her up; and then he went off. As soon as he was
gone the girl's aunt opened the bag and said, "What has happened, my
dear?" And she told the whole story. So the aunt took a big dog and
put it in the sack; and when the man came the next morning he said,
"Where's my girl?" "There she is, so far as I know." So he took the
sack and put it on his shoulder and went on his way for a time. Then
as the sun grew high he sat down under the shade of a tree and thought
he would speak to the girl. And when he opened the sack the big dog
flew out at him, and he fell back, and that's the last I heard of
him.
[Illustration: The Seven-Headed Dragon]
THE KING OF THE FISHES
Once upon a time there was a fisherman who was very poor and felt
poorer still because he had no children. Now one day as he was fishing
he caught in his net the finest fish he had ever seen, the scales all
gold and eyes as bright as diamonds; and just as he was going to take
it out of the net what do you think happened? The fish opened his jaws
and said, "I am the King of the Fishes, and if you throw me back into
the water you will never want a catch." The fisherman was so surprised
that he let the fish slip into the water, and he flapped his big tail
and dived under the waves. When he got home he told his wife all
about it, and she said, "Oh, what a pity, I have had such a longing to
eat such a fish."
Well, next day the fisherman went again a-fishing and, sure enough, he
caught the same fish again, and it said, "I am the King of the Fishes,
if you let me go you shall always have your nets full." So the
fisherman let him go again; and when he went back to his home he told
his wife that he had done so. She began to cry and wail and said, "I
told you I wanted such a fish, and yet you let him go; I am sure you
do not love me." The fisherman felt quite ashamed of himself and
promised that if he caught the King of the Fishes again he would bring
him home to his wife for her to cook. So next day the fisherman went
to the same place and caught the same fish the third time. But when
the fish begged the fisherman to let him go he told the King of the
Fishes what his wife had said and what he had promised her. "Well,"
said the King of the Fishes, "if you must kill me you must, but as you
let me go twice I will do this for you. When the wife cuts me up throw
some of my bones under the mare, and some of my bones under the bitch,
and the rest of my bones bury beneath the rose-tree in the garden and
then you will see what you will see."
So the fisherman took the King of the Fishes home to his wife, to whom
he told what the fish had said; and when she cut up the fish for
cooking they threw some of the bones under the mare, and some under
the bitch, and the rest they buried under the rose-tree in the garden.
Now after a time the fisherman's wife gave him two fine twin boys,
whom they named George and Albert, each with a star on his forehead
just under his hair, and at the same time the mare brought into the
world two fine colts, and the bitch two puppies. And under the
rose-tree grew up two rose bushes, each of which bore every year only
one rose, but what a rose that was! It lasted through the summer and
it lasted through the winter and, most curious of all, when George
fell ill one of the roses began to wilt, and if Albert had an illness
the same thing happened with the other rose.
Now when George and Albert grew up they heard that a Seven-Headed
Dragon was ravaging the neighbouring kingdom, and that the king had
promised his daughter's hand to anyone that would free the land from
this scourge. They both wanted to go and fight the dragon, but at last
the twins agreed that George go and Albert stop at home and look after
their father and mother, who had now grown old. So George took his
horse and his dog and rode off where the dragon had last been seen.
And when he came to Middlegard, the capital of the kingdom, he rode
with his horse and his dog to the chief inn of the town and asked the
landlady why everything looked so gloomy and why the houses were
draped in black. "Have you not heard, sir," asked the landlady, "that
the Dragon with the Seven Heads has been eating up a pure maiden
every month? And now he demands that the princess herself shall be
delivered up to him this day. That is why the town is draped in black
and we are all so gloomy." Thereupon George took his horse and his dog
and rode out to where the princess was exposed to the coming of the
Dragon with Seven Heads. And when the princess saw George with his
horse and his sword and his dog she asked him, "Why come you here,
sir? Soon the Dragon with Seven Heads, whom none can withstand, will
be here to claim me. Flee before it is too late." But George said,
"Princess, a man can die once, and I will willingly try to save you
from the dragon." Now as they were talking a horrible roar rent the
air and the Dragon with the Seven Heads came towards the princess. But
when it saw George it called out, "Can'st fight?" and George said, "If
I can't I can learn." "I'll learn thee," said the dragon. And
thereupon began a mighty combat between George and the dragon; and
whenever the dragon came near to George his dog would spring at one of
his paws, and when one of the heads reared back to deal with it
George's horse would spring to that side, and George's sword would
sweep that head away. And so at last all the seven heads of the dragon
were shorn off by George's sword, and the princess was saved. And
George opened the mouths of seven of the dragon's heads and cut out
the tongues, and the princess gave him her handkerchief, and he wrapt
all the seven tongues in it and put them away next his heart. But
George was so tired out by the fight that he laid down to sleep with
his head in the princess's lap, and she parted his hair with her hands
and saw the star on his brow.
Meanwhile the king's marshal, who was to have married the princess if
he would slay the dragon, had been watching the fight from afar off;
and when he saw that the dragon had been slain and that George was
lying asleep after the fight, he crept up behind the princess and,
drawing his dagger, said, "Put his head on the ground or else I will
slay thee." And when she had done that he bade her rise and come with
him after he had collected the seven heads of the dragon and strung
them on the leash of his whip. The princess would have wakened George
but the marshal threatened to kill her if she did. "If I cannot wed
thee he shall not." And then he made her swear that she would say that
the marshal had slain the Dragon with the Seven Heads. And when the
princess and the marshal came near the city the king and his courtiers
and all his people came out to meet them with great rejoicing, and the
king said to his daughter, "Who saved thee?" and she said, "this man."
"Then he shall marry thee," said the king. "No, no, father," said the
princess, "I am not old enough to marry yet; give me, at any rate, a
year and a day before the wedding takes place," for she hoped that
George would come and save her from the wicked marshal. The king
himself, who loved his daughter greatly, gave way at last and promised
that she should not be married for a year and a day.
When George awoke and saw the dead body and found the princess there
no longer he did not know what to make of it but thought that she did
not wish to marry a fisherman's son. So he mounted his horse, and with
his faithful hound went on seeking further adventures through the
world, and did not come that way again till a year had passed, when he
rode into Middlegard again and alighted at the same inn where he had
stopped before. "How now, hostess," he cried, "last time I was here
the city was all in mourning but now everything is agog with glee;
trumpets are blaring, lads and lasses are dancing round the trees, and
every house has flags and banners flowing from its windows. What is
happening?" "Know you not, sir," said the hostess, "that our princess
marries to-morrow?" "Why, last time," he said, "she was going to be
devoured by the Dragon with Seven Heads." "Nay, but he was slain by
the king's marshal who weds the princess to-morrow as a reward for his
bravery, and every one that wishes may join the wedding feast to-night
in the king's castle."
[Illustration: _The Marshal tells how he killed the Dragon_]
That night George went up to the king's castle and took his place at
the table not far off from where sat the king with the princess on
one side of him and the marshal on the other; and after the banquet
the king called upon the marshal once more to tell how he had slain
the Dragon with the Seven Heads. And the marshal told a long tale of
how he had cut off the seven heads of the dragon, and at the finish he
ordered his squire to bring in a platter on which were the seven
heads. Then up rose George and spoke to the king and said, "And pray,
my lord, how does it happen that the dragon's heads had no tongues?"
And the king said, "That I know not; let us look and see." And the
jaws of the dragon's heads were opened, and behold there were no
tongues in them. Then the king asked the marshal, "Know you aught of
this?" And the marshal had nothing to say. And the princess looked up
and saw her champion again. Then George took out from his doublet the
seven tongues of the dragon, and it was found that they fitted. "What
is the meaning of this, sir," said the king. Then George told the
story of how he had slain the dragon and fallen asleep in the
princess's lap and had awoke and found her gone. And the princess,
when asked by her father, could not but tell of the treachery of the
marshal. "Away with him," cried out the king, "let his head be taken
off and his tongue be taken out, and let his place be taken by this
young stranger."
So George and the princess were married and lived happily, till one
night, looking out of the window of the castle where they lived,
George saw in the distance another castle with windows all lit up and
shining like fire. And he asked the princess, his wife, what that
castle might be. "Go not near that, George," said the princess, "for I
have always heard that none who enters that castle ever comes out
again." The next morning George went with horse and hound to seek the
castle; and when he got near it he found at the gate an old dame with
but one eye; and he asked her to open the gate, and she said she would
but that it was a custom of the castle that who ever entered had to
drink a glass of wine before doing so; and she offered him a goblet
full of wine; but when he had drunk it he and his horse and his dog
were all turned into stone.
Just at the very moment when George was turned to stone Albert, who
had heard nothing of him, saw George's rose in the garden close up and
turn the colour of marble; then he knew that something had happened to
his brother, and he had out his horse and his dog and rode off to find
out what had been George's fate. And he rode, and he rode, till he
came to Middlegard, and as soon as he reached the gate the guard of
the gate said, "Your highness, the princess has been in great anxiety
about you; she will be so happy to know that you have returned safe."
Albert said nothing, but followed the guard until he came to the
princess's chamber, and she ran to him and embraced him and cried
out, "Oh, George, I am so delighted that you have come back safe."
"Why should I not," said Albert. "Because I feared that you had gone
to that castle with flaming windows, from which nobody ever returns
alive," said the princess.
Then Albert guessed what had happened to George, and he soon made an
excuse and went off again to seek the castle which the princess had
pointed out from the window. When Albert got there he found the same
old dame sitting by the gate, and asked if he might go in and see the
castle. She said again that none might enter the castle unless they
had taken a glass of wine and brought out the goblet of wine once
more. Albert was about to drink it up when his faithful dog jumped up
and spilt the wine, which he began to lap up, and as soon as he had
drunk a little of it his body turned to marble, just by the side of
another stone which looked exactly the same. Then Albert guessed what
had happened, and descending from his horse he took out his sword and
threatened the old witch that he would kill her unless she restored
his brother to his proper shape. In fear and trembling the old dame
muttered something over the four stones in front of the castle, and
George and his horse and his hound and Albert's dog became alive again
as they were before. Then George and Albert rode back to the princess
who, when she saw them both so much alike, could not tell which was
which; then she remembered and went up to Albert and parted his hair
on his forehead and saw there the star, and said, "This is my George";
but then George parted his own hair, and she saw the same star there.
At last Albert told her all that had happened, and she knew her own
husband again. And soon after the king died, and George ruled in his
place, and Albert married one of the neighbouring princesses.
[Illustration: Scissors]
SCISSORS
Once upon a time, though it was not in my time nor in your time nor in
anybody else's time, there lived a cobbler named Tom and his wife
named Joan. And they lived fairly happily together, except that
whatever Tom did Joan did the opposite, and whatever Joan thought Tom
thought quite contrary-wise. When Tom wanted beef for dinner Joan
liked pork, and if Joan wanted to have chicken Tom would like to have
duck. And so it went on all the time.
Now it happened that one day Joan was cleaning up the kitchen and,
turning suddenly, she knocked two or three pots and pans together and
broke them all. So Tom, who was working in the front room, came and
asked Joan, "What's all this? What have you been doing?" Now Joan had
got the pair of scissors in her hand, and sooner than tell him what
had really happened she said, "I cut these pots and pans into pieces
with my scissors."
"What," said Tom, "cut pottery with your scissors, you nonsensical
woman; you can't do it!"
"I tell you I did with my scissors!"
"You couldn't."
"I did."
"You couldn't."
"I did."
"Couldn't."
"Did."
"Couldn't."
"Did."
"Couldn't."
"Did."
At last Tom got so angry that he seized Joan by the shoulders and
shoved her out of the house and said, "If you don't tell me how you
broke those pots and pans I'll throw you into the river." But Joan
kept on saying, "It was with the scissors"; and Tom got so enraged
that at last he took her to the bank of the river and said, "Now for
the last time, will you tell me the truth; how did you break those
pots and pans?"
"With the scissors."
And with that he threw her into the river, and she sank once, and she
sank twice, and just before she was about to sink for the third time
she put her hand up into the air, out of the water, and made a motion
with her first and middle finger as if she were moving the scissors.
So Tom saw it was no use to try to persuade her to do anything but
what she wanted. So he rushed up the stream and met a neighbour who
said, "Tom, Tom, what are you running for?"
"Oh, I want to find Joan; she fell into the river just in front of our
house, and I am afraid she is going to be drowned."
"But," said the neighbour, "you're running up stream."
"Well," said Tom, "Joan always went contrary-wise whatever happened."
And so he never found her in time to save her.
[Illustration]
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
There was once a merchant that had three daughters, and he loved them
better than himself. Now it happened that he had to go a long journey
to buy some goods, and when he was just starting he said to them,
"What shall I bring you back, my dears?" And the eldest daughter asked
to have a necklace; and the second daughter wished to have a gold
chain; but the youngest daughter said, "Bring back yourself, Papa, and
that is what I want the most." "Nonsense, child," said her father,
"you must say something that I may remember to bring back for you."
"So," she said, "then bring me back a rose, father."
Well, the merchant went on his journey and did his business and bought
a pearl necklace for his eldest daughter, and a gold chain for his
second daughter; but he knew it was no use getting a rose for the
youngest while he was so far away because it would fade before he got
home. So he made up his mind he would get a rose for her the day he
got near his house.
When all his merchanting was done he rode off home and forgot all
about the rose till he was near his house; then he suddenly remembered
what he had promised his youngest daughter, and looked about to see if
he could find a rose. Near where he had stopped he saw a great garden,
and getting off his horse he wandered about in it till he found a
lovely rose-bush; and he plucked the most beautiful rose he could see
on it. At that moment he heard a crash like thunder, and looking
around he saw a huge monster--two tusks in his mouth and fiery eyes
surrounded by bristles, and horns coming out of its head and spreading
over its back.
"Mortal," said the Beast, "who told thee thou mightest pluck my
roses?"
"Please, sir," said the merchant in fear and terror for his life, "I
promised my daughter to bring her home a rose and forgot about it till
the last moment, and then I saw your beautiful garden and thought you
would not miss a single rose, or else I would have asked your
permission."
"Thieving is thieving," said the Beast, "whether it be a rose or a
diamond; thy life is forfeit."
The merchant fell on his knees and begged for his life for the sake of
his three daughters who had none but him to support them.
"Well, mortal, well," said the Beast, "I grant thy life on one
condition: Seven days from now thou must bring this youngest daughter
of thine, for whose sake thou hast broken into my garden, and leave
her here in thy stead. Otherwise swear that thou wilt return and
place thyself at my disposal."
So the merchant swore, and taking his rose mounted his horse and rode
home.
As soon as he got into his house his daughters came rushing round him,
clapping their hands and showing their joy in every way, and soon he
gave the necklace to his eldest daughter, the chain to his second
daughter, and then he gave the rose to his youngest, and as he gave it
he sighed. "Oh, thank you, Father," they all cried. But the youngest
said, "Why did you sigh so deeply when you gave me my rose?"
"Later on I will tell you," said the merchant.
So for several days they lived happily together, though the merchant
wandered about gloomy and sad, and nothing his daughters could do
would cheer him up till at last he took his youngest daughter aside
and said to her, "Bella, do you love your father?"
"Of course I do, Father, of course I do."
"Well, now you have a chance of showing it"; and then he told her of
all that had occurred with the Beast when he got the rose for her.
Bella was very sad, as you can well think, and then she said, "Oh,
Father, it was all on account of me that you fell into the power of
this Beast; so I will go with you to him; perhaps he will do me no
harm; but even if he does better harm to me than evil to my dear
father."
So next day the merchant took Bella behind him on his horse, as was
the custom in those days, and rode off to the dwelling of the Beast.
And when he got there and they alighted from his horse the doors of
the house opened, and what do you think they saw there! Nothing. So
they went up the steps and went through the hall, and went into the
dining-room and there they saw a table spread with all manner of
beautiful glasses and plates and dishes and napery, with plenty to eat
upon it. So they waited and they waited, thinking that the owner of
the house would appear, till at last the merchant said, "Let's sit
down and see what will happen then." And when they sat down invisible
hands passed them things to eat and to drink, and they ate and drank
to their heart's content. And when they arose from the table it arose
too and disappeared through the door as if it were being carried by
invisible servants.
Suddenly there appeared before them the Beast who said to the
merchant, "Is this thy youngest daughter?" And when he had said that
it was, he said, "Is she willing to stop here with me?" And then he
looked at Bella who said, in a trembling voice, "Yes, sir."