mind, and thought to himself, “It will not end well! It will not end
well! Emperor is too shameless! The Flounder will at last be tired out.”
With that, he reached the sea, and the sea was quite black and thick,
and began to boil up from below, so that it threw up bubbles. And such
a sharp wind blew over it that it curdled, and the man was afraid. Then
he went and stood by it, and said:
“_Flounder, Flounder in the sea,
Come, I pray thee, here to me;
For my wife, Dame Ilsabil,
Wills not as I’d have her will._”
“Well, what does she want, now?” said the Flounder.
“Alas, Flounder,” said he, “my wife wants to be Emperor.”
“Go to her,” said the Flounder; “she is Emperor already.”
So the man went, and when he got there the whole palace was made of
polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments. And
soldiers were marching before the door blowing trumpets, and beating
cymbals and drums. In the house, barons, and counts, and dukes were
going about as servants. Then they opened the doors to him, which were
of pure gold. And when he entered, there sat his wife on a throne,
which was made of one piece of gold, and was quite two miles high;
and she wore a great golden crown that was three yards high, and set
with diamonds and carbuncles. In one hand she had the sceptre, and in
the other the imperial orb. And on both sides of her stood the yeomen
of the guard in two rows, each being smaller than the one before him,
from the biggest Giant, who was two miles high, to the very smallest
Dwarf, just as big as my little finger. And before it stood a number of
princes and dukes.
Then the man went and stood among than, and said, “Wife, are you
Emperor now?”
“Yes,” said she, “now I am Emperor.”
Then he stood and looked at her well, and when he had looked at her
thus for some time, he said, “Ah, Wife, be content, now that you are
Emperor.”
“Husband,” said she, “why are you standing there? Now, I am Emperor,
but I will be Pope too. Go to the Flounder.”
“Alas, Wife,” said the man, “what will you not wish for? You cannot be
Pope. There is but one in Christendom. He cannot make you Pope.”
“Husband,” said she, “I will be Pope. Go immediately. I must be Pope
this very day.”
[Illustration: “YES,” SAID SHE “NOW I AM EMPEROR”]
“No, Wife,” said the man, “I do not like to say that to him; that would
not do, it is too much. The Flounder can’t make you Pope.”
“Husband,” said she, “what nonsense! if he can make an Emperor he can
make a Pope. Go to him directly. I am Emperor, and you are nothing but
my husband. Will you go at once?”
Then he was afraid and went. But he was quite faint, and shivered and
shook, and his knees and legs trembled. And a high wind blew over the
land, and the clouds flew, and toward evening all grew dark, and the
leaves fell from the trees, and the water rose and roared as if it were
boiling, and splashed upon the shore. In the distance he saw ships
which were firing guns in their sore need, pitching and tossing on the
waves. And yet in the midst of the sky, there was still a small bit of
blue, though on every side it was as red as in a heavy storm. So, full
of despair, he went and stood in much fear, and said:
“_Flounder, Flounder in the sea,
Come, I pray thee, here to me;
For my wife, Dame Ilsabil,
Wills not as I’d have her will._”
“Well, what does she want, now?” said the Flounder.
“Alas,” said the man, “she wants to be Pope.”
“Go to her then,” said the Flounder; “she is Pope already.”
<p>So he went, and when he got there, he saw what seemed to be a large
church surrounded by palaces. He pushed his way through the crowd.
Inside, however, everything was lighted with thousands and thousands of
candles, and his wife was clad in gold, and she was sitting on a much
higher throne, and had three great golden crowns on, and round about
her there was much churchly splendor. And on both sides of her was a
row of candles, the largest of which was as tall as the very tallest
tower, down to the very smallest kitchen candle; and all the emperors
and kings were on their knees before her, kissing her shoe.
“Wife,” said the man, and looked attentively at her, “are you now Pope?”
“Yes,” said she, “I am Pope.”
So he stood and looked at her, and it was just as if he was looking at
the bright sun. When he had stood looking at her thus for a short time,
he said, “Ah, Wife, if you are Pope, do let well alone!”
But she looked as stiff as a post, and did not move or show any signs
of life. Then said he, “Wife, now that you are Pope, be satisfied, you
cannot become anything greater.”
“I will consider about that,” said the woman.
Thereupon they both went to bed. But she was not satisfied, and
greediness let her have no sleep, for she was continually thinking what
there was left for her to be.
The man slept well and soundly, for he had run about a great deal
during the day. But the woman could not fall asleep at all, and flung
herself from one side to the other the whole night through, thinking
what more was left for her to be, but unable to call to mind anything
else.
At length the sun began to rise, and when the woman saw the red of
dawn, she sat up in bed and looked at it. And when, through the window,
she saw the sun thus rising, she said, “Cannot I, too, order the sun
and moon to rise?”
“Husband,” said she, poking him in the ribs with her elbows, “wake up!
go to the Flounder, for I wish to be even as God is.”
The man was still half asleep, but he was so horrified that he fell out
of bed. He thought he must have heard amiss, and rubbed his eyes, and
said, “Alas, Wife, what are you saying?”
“Husband,” said she, “if I can’t order the sun and moon to rise, and
have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can’t bear it. I
shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, unless I can make
them rise myself.” Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder
ran over him, and said, “Go at once. I wish to be like unto God.”
“Alas, Wife,” said the man, falling on his knees before her, “the
Flounder cannot do that. He can make an Emperor and a Pope. I beseech
you, go on as you are, and be Pope.”
Then she fell into a rage, and her hair flew wildly about her head, and
she cried, “I will not endure this, I’ll not bear it any longer. Will
you go?” Then he put on his trousers and ran away like a madman.
But outside a great storm was raging, and blowing so hard that he
could scarcely keep his feet. Houses and trees toppled over, mountains
trembled, rocks rolled into the sea, the sky was pitch black, and it
thundered and lightened. And the sea came in with black waves as high
as church-towers and mountains, and all with crests of white foam at
the top. Then he cried, but could not hear his own words:
“_Flounder, Flounder in the sea,
Come, I pray thee, here to me;
For my wife, Dame Ilsabil,
Wills not as I’d have her will._”
“Well; what does she want, now?” said the Flounder.
“Alas,” said he, “she wants to be like unto God.”
“Go to her, and you will find her back again in the dirty hovel.”
And there they are living at this very time.
[Illustration]
THE WHITE SNAKE
A long time ago, there lived a King who was famed for his wisdom
through all the land. Nothing was hidden from him, and it seemed as if
news of the most secret things was brought to him through the air.
But he had a strange custom. Every day after dinner, when the table was
cleared, and no one else was present, a trusty servant had to bring him
one more dish. It was covered and even the servant did not know what
was in it. Neither did any one know, for the King never took off the
cover to eat of it, until he was quite alone.
This had gone on for a long time, when one day the servant, who took
away the dish, was overcome with such curiosity that he could not help
carrying the dish into his room. When he had carefully locked the door,
he lifted up the cover, and saw a White Snake lying on the dish. But
when he saw it, he could not deny himself the pleasure of tasting it,
so he cut off a little bit and put it into his mouth.
No sooner had it touched his tongue than he heard a strange whispering
of little voices outside his window. He went and listened, and then
noticed that it was the sparrows who were chattering together, and
telling one another of all kinds of things which they had seen in the
fields and woods. Eating the Snake had given him power to understand
the language of animals!
Now, it so happened, that on this very day the Queen lost her most
beautiful ring, and suspicion of having stolen it fell upon this trusty
servant, who was allowed to go everywhere. The King ordered the man to
be brought before him, and threatened with angry words that unless he
could, before the morrow, point out the thief, he himself should be
looked upon as guilty and should be executed. In vain, he declared his
innocence. He was dismissed with no better answer.
In his trouble and fear, he went down into the courtyard, and took
thought how to help himself out of his trouble. Now some ducks were
sitting together quietly by a brook and taking their rest. And, whilst
they were making their feathers smooth with their bills, they were
having a confidential conversation. The servant stood by and listened.
They were telling one another of all the places where they had been
waddling about all the morning, and what good food they had found. And
one said in a pitiful tone, “Something lies heavy on my stomach; as
I was eating in haste I swallowed a ring which lay under the Queen’s
window.”
The servant at once seized her by the neck, carried her to the kitchen,
and said to the cook, “Here is a fine duck. Pray kill her.”
“Yes,” said the cook, and weighed her in his hand; “she has spared
no trouble to fatten herself, and has been waiting long enough to be
roasted.”
So he cut off her head; and as she was being dressed for the spit, the
Queen’s ring was found inside her.
The servant could now easily prove his innocence. The King, to make
amends for the wrong, allowed him to ask a favor, and promised him the
best place in the Court. The servant refused everything, and asked only
for a horse and some money for traveling, as he had a mind to see the
world and go about a little. When his request was granted, he set out
on his way.
One day he came to a pond, where he saw three fishes caught in the
reeds and gasping for water. Now, though it is said that fishes are
dumb, he heard them lamenting that they must perish so miserably. As he
had a kind heart, he got off his horse and put the three prisoners back
into the water.
They quivered with delight, put out their heads, and cried to him, “We
will remember you, and repay you for saving us!”
He rode on, and after a while it seemed to him that he heard a voice in
the sand at his feet. He listened, and heard an Ant-King complain, “Why
cannot folk, with their clumsy beasts, keep off our bodies? That stupid
horse, with his heavy hoofs, has been treading down my people without
mercy!”
So he turned on to a side path and the Ant-King cried out to him, “We
will remember you---one good turn deserves another!”
The path led him into a wood, and there he saw two old ravens standing
by their nest, and throwing out their young ones. “Out with you, you
idle, good-for-nothing creatures!” cried they; “we cannot find food
for you any longer. You are big enough, and can provide for yourselves.”
But the poor young ravens lay upon the ground flapping their wings, and
crying, “Oh, what helpless chicks we are! We must shift for ourselves,
and yet we cannot fly! What can we do, but lie here and starve?”
So the good young fellow alighted and killed his horse with his
sword, and gave it to them for food. Then they came hopping up to it,
satisfied their hunger, and cried, “We will remember you--one good turn
deserves another!”
And now he had to use his own legs, and when he had walked a long way,
he came to a large city. There was a great noise and crowd in the
streets, and a man rode up on horseback, crying aloud, “The King’s
Daughter wants a husband. But whoever sues for her hand must perform a
hard task. If he does not succeed he will forfeit his life.”
Many had already made the attempt, but in vain. Nevertheless, when the
youth saw the King’s Daughter he was so overcome by her great beauty,
that he forgot all danger, went before the King, and declared himself a
suitor.
So he was led out to the sea, and a gold ring was cast into it. Then
the King ordered him to fetch this ring up from the bottom of the sea,
and added, “If you come up without it, you will be thrown in again and
again until you perish amid the waves.”
All the people grieved for the handsome youth; then they went away;
leaving him alone by the sea.
[Illustration: THERE LAY THE GOLD RING IN THE SHELL]
He stood on the shore and considered what he should do, when suddenly
he saw three fishes come swimming toward him. They were the very
fishes whose lives he had saved. The one in the middle held a mussel in
its mouth, which it laid on the shore at the youth’s feet. When he had
taken it up and opened it, there lay the gold ring in the shell. Full
of joy he took it to the King, and expected that he would grant him the
promised reward.
But when the proud Princess perceived that he was not her equal in
birth, she scorned him, and required him first to perform another
task. She went down into the garden and strewed with her own hands ten
sacksful of millet-seed on the grass.
Then she said, “To-morrow morning before sunrise these must be picked
up, and not a single grain be wanting.”
The youth sat down in the garden and considered how he might perform
this task. But he could think of nothing, and there he sat sorrowfully
awaiting the break of day, when he should be led to death. But as soon
as the first rays of the sun shone into the garden, he saw all the
ten sacks standing side by side, quite full, and not a single grain
was missing. The Ant-King had come in the night with thousands and
thousands of ants, and the grateful creatures had, by great industry,
picked up all the millet-seeds and gathered them into the sacks.
Presently, the King’s Daughter herself came down into the garden, and
was amazed to see that the young man had done the task she had given
him.
But she could not yet conquer her proud heart, and said, “Although he
has performed both the tasks, he shall not be my husband, until he has
brought me an apple from the Tree of Life.”
The youth did not know where the Tree of Life stood, but he set out,
and would have gone on forever, as long as his legs would carry him,
though he had no hope of finding it. After he had wandered through
three kingdoms, he came one evening to a wood, and lay down under a
tree to sleep.
But he heard a rustling in the branches, and a Golden Apple fell into
his hand. At the same time three ravens flew down to him, perched
themselves upon his knee, and said, “We are the three young ravens whom
you saved from starving. When we had grown big, and heard that you were
seeking the Golden Apple, we flew over the sea to the end of the world,
where the Tree of Life stands, and have brought you the apple.”
The youth, full of joy, set out homeward, and took the Golden Apple
to the King’s beautiful Daughter, who had now no more excuses left to
make. They cut the Apple of Life in two and ate it together; and then
her heart became full of love for him, and they lived to a great age in
undisturbed happiness.
[Illustration]
HAENSEL AND GRETHEL
Hard by a great forest, dwelt a poor woodcutter with his wife and his
two children. The boy was called Haensel and the girl, Grethel. He had
little to bite and to break; and once when great scarcity fell on the
land, he could no longer procure daily bread.
Now, when he thought over this by night in his bed, and tossed about in
his anxiety, he groaned and said to his wife, “What is to become of us?
How are we to feed our poor children, when we no longer have anything
even for ourselves?”
“I’ll tell you what, Husband,” answered the woman, “early to-morrow
morning we will take the children out into the forest to where it is
the thickest; there we will light a fire for them, and give each of
them one piece of bread more. Then we will go to our work and leave
them alone. They will not find the way home again, and we shall be rid
of them.”
“No, Wife,” said the man, “I will not do that. How can I bear to leave
my children alone in the forest?--the wild animals would soon come and
tear them to pieces.”
“Oh, you fool!” said she. “Then we must all four die of hunger. You may
as well plane the planks for our coffins.”
And she left him no peace until he consented. “But I feel very sorry
for the poor children, all the same,” said the man.
The two children had also not been able to sleep for hunger, and had
heard what the woman had said to their father.
Grethel wept bitter tears, and said to Haensel, “Now all is over with
us.”
“Be quiet, Grethel,” said Haensel, “do not distress yourself, I will
soon find a way to help us.”
And when the old folk had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his little
coat, opened the door below, and crept outside. The moon shone
brightly, and the white pebbles, which lay in front of the house,
glittered like real silver pennies. Haensel stooped and put as many of
them in the little pocket of his coat as he could possibly get in.
Then he went back and said to Grethel, “Be comforted, dear little
Sister, and sleep in peace. God will not forsake us,” and he lay down
again in his bed.
When day dawned, but before the sun had risen, the woman came and awoke
the two children, saying, “Get up, you sluggards! we are going into the
forest to fetch wood.” She gave each a little piece of bread, and said,
“There is something for your dinner, but do not eat it up before then,
for you will get nothing else.”
Grethel took the bread under her apron, as Haensel had the stones in
his pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest.
When they had walked a short time, Haensel stood still and peeped
back, and did so again and again while he was throwing the white
pebble-stones one by one out of his pocket onto the road.
When they had reached the middle of the forest, the father said, “Now,
Children, pile up some wood, and I will light a fire that you may not
be cold.”
Haensel and Grethel gathered brushwood together, as high as a little
hill. The brushwood was lighted, and when the flames were burning very
high, the woman said, “Now, Children, lay yourselves down by the fire
and rest. We will go into the forest and cut some wood. When we have
done, we will come back and fetch you away.”
Haensel and Grethel sat by the fire, and when noon came, each ate a
little piece of bread; and, as they heard the strokes of the wood-axe,
they believed that their father was near. It was, however, not the axe,
it was a branch which he had fastened to a withered tree which the wind
was blowing backward and forward. And as they had been sitting such a
long time, their eyes shut with fatigue, and they fell fast asleep.
When at last they awoke, it was already dark night. Grethel began to cry
and said, “How are we to get out of the forest now?”
But Haensel comforted her, and said, “Just wait a little, until the
moon has risen, and then we shall soon find the way.”
And when the full moon had risen, Haensel took his little sister by the
hand, and followed the pebbles which shone like newly-coined silver
pieces, and showed them the way.
They walked the whole night long, and, by break of day, came once more
to their father’s house. They knocked at the door; and when the woman
opened it and saw that it was Haensel and Grethel, she said, “You
naughty children, why have you slept so long in the forest?--we thought
you were never coming back at all!”
The father, however, rejoiced, for it had cut him to the heart to leave
them behind alone.
Not long afterward, there was another famine in all parts, and
the children heard their mother saying at night to their father,
“Everything is eaten again, we have one-half loaf left, and after that
there is an end. The children must go, we will take them farther into
the wood, so that they will not find their way out again. There is no
other means of saving ourselves!”
The man’s heart was heavy, and he thought “it would be better for you
to share the last mouthful with your children!” The woman, however,
would listen to nothing that he had to say, but scolded and reproached
him. He who says A must say B, likewise, and as he had yielded the
first time, he had to do so a second time also.
The children were, however, still awake and had heard the conversation.
When the old folk were asleep, Haensel again got up to go out and pick
up pebbles. But the woman had locked the door, and Haensel could not
get out. Nevertheless he comforted his little sister, and said, “Do not
cry, Grethel, go to sleep quietly, the good God will help us.”
Early in the morning, came the woman, and took the children out of
their beds. Their bit of bread was given to them, but it was still
smaller than the time before. On the way into the forest, Haensel
crumbled his in his pocket, and often stood still and threw a morsel on
the ground, and little by little, threw all the crumbs on the path.
The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they had
never in their lives been before. Then a great fire was again made, and
the mother said, “Just sit there, you Children, and when you are tired
you may sleep a little. We are going into the forest to cut wood. In
the evening, when we are done, we will come and fetch you away.”
When it was noon, Grethel shared her piece of bread with Haensel,
who had scattered his by the way. Then they fell asleep, and evening
passed, but no one came to the poor children.
They did not awake until it was dark night, and Haensel comforted his
little sister and said, “Just wait, Grethel, until the moon rises, and
then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have strewn. They will
show us our way home again.”
When the moon came, they set out, but they found no crumbs, for the
many thousands of birds, which fly about in the woods and fields, had
picked them all up. Haensel said to Grethel, “We shall soon find the
way,” but they did not find it.
They walked the whole night and all the next day, from morning till
evening, but they did not get out of the forest, and were very hungry,
for they had nothing to eat but two or three berries, which grew on the
ground. And as they were so weary that their legs would carry them no
longer, they lay down beneath a tree and fell asleep.
It was now three mornings since they had left their father’s house.
They began to walk again, but they always got deeper into the forest.
If help did not come soon, they must die of hunger and weariness!
When it was midday, they saw a beautiful Snow-White Bird sitting on a
bough, which sang so delightfully that they stood still and listened
to it. And when it had finished its song, it spread its wings and flew
away before them. They followed it until they reached a little house,
on the roof of which it alighted.
When they came quite up to the little House they saw that it was built
of bread and covered with cakes, but that the windows were of clear
sugar.
“We will set to work on that,” said Haensel, “and have a good meal.
I will eat a bit of the roof, and you, Grethel, can eat some of the
window; it will taste sweet.”
Haensel reached up and broke off a little of the roof to try how it
tasted. Grethel leant against the window and nibbled at the panes. Then
a soft voice cried from the room:
“_Nibble, nibble, gnaw!
Who nibbles at my door?_”
but the children went on eating without disturbing themselves. Haensel,
who thought the roof tasted very nice, tore down a great piece of it.
Grethel pushed out the whole of one round window-pane, sat down, and
enjoyed herself with it.
Suddenly the door opened, and a very, very old woman, leaning on
crutches, came creeping out. Haensel and Grethel were so terribly
frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands.
The Old Woman, however, nodded her head, and said, “Oh, you dear
Children, who has brought you here? Do come in, and stay with me. No
harm shall happen to you.”
She took them both by the hand, and led them into her little house.
Then she set good food before them, milk and pancakes, with sugar,
apples, and nuts. Afterward she covered two pretty little beds with
clean white linen, and Haensel and Grethel lay down in them, and
thought they were in Heaven.