into your dwelling no mortal, but a fairy; I always try those mortals
whom I desire to benefit, and you have stood the trial. To little Emma
I am especially beholden, because she would yesterday have killed for
my supper what she most values, her pigeons. For this she shall be
gifted. Whenever she weeps, either for joy or sorrow, pearls instead
of tears shall drop from her eyes, and the hairs she combs from her
head shall turn into threads of pure gold. But beware that no ray of
sun ever shine upon her uncovered countenance, for then a great
misfortune will befall her; from henceforth never let her go into the
open air without being covered with a veil."
The beneficent fairy having thus spoken, vanished; but Jutta, who was
desirous to prove the truth of her words, hastily spread a large cloth
on the ground, placed the little maiden on it, and commenced combing
her long fair locks. Immediately the hairs that fell on the cloth
became threads of gold, and when the old woman told the child how rich
and grand she might now become, and what pretty toys she might buy,
she wept for joy, and the most beautiful pearls rolled from her eyes
upon the linen cloth.
The next day the old woman betook herself to the nearest town, sold
the pearls and the threads of gold, and bought a fine veil, without
which Emma was never suffered to leave the house. She often combed the
child's hair several times in the day, telling her all the time the
prettiest tales, which drew from her eyes abundance of tears, either
of pleasure or compassion, so that in a short time Jutta possessed a
considerable treasure in gold and pearls.
At first she sold her treasures to Jews, and received but little for
them, as they believed the goods were stolen. By and by, however, when
she had become possessed of a small landed estate in the district, she
traded with jewellers and goldsmiths, who paid her according to the
value of her goods, and so at length she collected a very considerable
treasure.
Meanwhile Adelheid and Emma grew into young women. But the increasing
wealth of the old woman, whom her neighbours had formerly known to be
in such straitened circumstances, and who knew not how she had
acquired her riches, gave occasion for envious tongues to utter many
an evil speech against her. Still further were their curiosity and
ill-nature excited by the singular circumstance that Emma always went
about veiled, and under these circumstances, what could be more
natural than that the greater part of them were ready to swear without
hesitation that old Jutta was a vile witch, and ought to be burned?
Now although these evil speeches were unable to do the widow any real
injury, still she was not a little vexed and annoyed when they reached
her ears, or when she perceived that she was looked upon with
suspicious and wondering looks; and finding it impossible by obliging
and friendly conduct, or even by conferring benefits, to win the
hearts of her neighbours, or to stop their calumnies, she preferred to
abandon altogether the place where she had been known in indifferent
circumstances, and to go far away, where her riches would not excite
suspicions against her. She therefore resolved to sell her estate, and
to take up her residence in the city of Prague. In order, however, not
to be too precipitate, she first sent thither her nephew, Henry, that
she might become a little acquainted with their future residence,
before removing from the former one.
So Henry went to the Bohemian capital, and, as he was a personable
youth, had good manners, and was richly provided with money by his
aunt, so that he could live in as good style as any of the nobles of
the land, he soon became on friendly terms with numerous counts and
other illustrious persons. Judging by his personal appearance and
expenditure they took him for one of their own station; nay, one of
them, a young count, became his confidential friend, and, as wine
often unlocks the secrets of the heart, it happened one day that Henry
let out the whole secret concerning his sister, quite forgetting at
the moment his aunt's strict prohibition ever to reveal it.
When the count heard so much of the extraordinary understanding, good
heart, sweetness, and beauty of the young maiden who was possessed of
such wonderful gifts, his heart at once glowed with love for her, and
he said with great warmth:--
"I myself possess a domain of such great value, that I am in no need
of the riches of another; but I have ever desired to have a wife
distinguished above all others for her beauty, virtue, and other rare
gifts; therefore I offer my hand to your sister, and I swear to you
that I will do all in my power that I may call so wonderful a maiden
my own."
Henry perceived his indiscretion now that it was too late, and he
could not withstand the earnest entreaties of his friend to obtain for
him the hand of his sister. In order, indeed, to lose no time, the
count immediately caused to be constructed an entirely closed and
well-covered carriage in which to transport Emma to him, without her
being exposed to a breath of air.
Surprising as was his proposal, it was so honourable a one, that,
after a few minutes' reflection, Emma could not think of refusing such
an illustrious and amiable young man as Henry described the count to
be. The brother, therefore, hastened back with the news of her
consent, and the count immediately went to his residence, in order to
make preparations for the reception of his bride, and for a
magnificent bridal entertainment.
During the interval, Emma, accompanied by her mother and Adelheid,
began her journey, and when they had proceeded about half-way, they
came to a great forest. The heat was oppressive, and Emma happened to
draw aside her veil, just as Jutta, in order to look after the
attendants whom the count had sent to escort his bride on the journey,
thoughtlessly opened the door of the carriage. No sooner did a sunbeam
shine on the maiden, than she was suddenly transformed into a golden
duck, flew out of the carriage, and vanished from the sight of her
terrified aunt.
[Illustration]
As soon as the old woman had recovered from her first alarm, she was
greatly troubled how to escape the wrath of the count. They had still
to traverse a considerable portion of the forest. So she sent the
servants who had not perceived the occurrence, under some pretext, to
a village at some distance, and during their absence she covered her
own daughter with Emma's veil. On their return they found the old
woman in the greatest distress; she wrung her hands, and related with
well simulated despair, that having gone with her daughter only a few
steps from the carriage, armed men had surprised them, and carried off
her Adelheid.
The count's servants, deceived by the despairing words and gestures of
the old woman, searched the forest, in hopes of tracing the robbers,
but as was to be expected, without success. Meanwhile Jutta instructed
her daughter in the part she was to play, in order that she in Emma's
place might become the count's wife. And as she feared she might not
be able to conceal the cheat from Henry, she desired the servants not
to go through Prague, but to take the direct road to the count's
castle.
When they arrived, Jutta descended alone from the carriage, carefully
closed it again, and besought the count, that until her niece had
entirely recovered from the fatigue of the journey, he would permit
them both to occupy a chamber from which all daylight could be
excluded, and she forbade at first any visit from the bridegroom.
Impatient as the latter was to see his bride, he yet submitted to this
delay which the old woman so earnestly requested of him. The most
splendid apartments were now thrown open to the mother and daughter,
and the most inner chamber of the suite was so hung with curtains that
no daylight could penetrate. In this room dwelt Jutta with her
daughter, and even Henry, who came to visit his supposed sister, was,
under pretext of her being indisposed, not allowed to enter. As his
aunt, however, provided him with plenty of money, and the merry life
in Prague pleased him better than the retirement of the country, he
soon returned thither.
The count, whom Jutta put off from day to day under various pretexts
from visiting his bride, at length lost patience, and would not be
longer withheld by the gold and pearls which Jutta continually brought
him; he forced his way into the chamber, and clasped Adelheid in his
arms.
Although the count could not but remark that Adelheid in no degree
corresponded to the description her brother had given of her, he was
still prepared to fulfil his word, and was therefore married, though
with the greatest privacy, to the false bride. Very shortly, he became
aware that neither her heart nor mind possessed the excellence that
had been represented to him; and in consequence of this discovery,
when he next met his brother-in-law, he overwhelmed him with
reproaches. The contemptuous expressions which the count used
respecting his bride, whom Henry had only known as the loveliest and
most amiable maiden in all Bohemia, so incensed Henry, that he forgot
all the consideration due to the rich and powerful man, and the count,
who, besides this, believed himself to have been deceived by Henry,
caused him to be seized, brought to his castle, and thrown into a deep
dungeon.
The wife of the count, who was also most severely punished for the
crime in which she had taken part, overwhelmed her mother with the
bitterest reproaches. More than once she was on the point of
confessing the fraud to her husband, but he drove her from him, and
would not listen to her.
Whilst these women were thus suffering for their crime, Henry sat in
his dungeon, hopeless of ever recovering his freedom, or of being able
to take vengeance on him who had so unjustly treated him; when one
day, as he lay in despair, a sweet voice reached him, which sang a
song he had often listened to when his sister Emma used to sing it in
former days.
The youth, who distinctly recognised his sister's voice, uttered her
name, and on looking upwards, he saw, by the light of the moon, a duck
fluttering before him, whose feathers were of gold, and whose neck was
adorned by a costly row of pearls.
Then said the golden duck to the astonished youth, "I am thy sister
Emma, who, transformed into a golden duck, fly about without a home."
She then related to her brother what had occurred during the journey,
and the deception her aunt had been guilty of. As she thus recounted
her unhappy fate, which constrained her to fly about unprotected, her
life exposed to the snares of the hunters, whilst her beloved brother
was languishing in prison, she wept abundantly; and the tears rolled
about the tower as costly pearls, and golden feathers fell from her,
and glittered on the dark ground.
The brother and sister pitied and tried to console each other. Henry
especially lamented his talkativeness, which had brought all this
misfortune upon them. At day-break the duck flew away, after promising
to visit her brother every night.
After this intercourse had lasted some time, one night she did not
make her appearance, which threw poor Henry into the greatest anxiety,
for he feared she might, for the sake of her precious feathers, have
been caught, or perhaps even killed. Then, for the first time, the
door of his prison was opened; the count's superintendent entered,
announced that he was free, and conducted him to the very same
apartments which he had occupied in happier days.
Before Henry could recover from his surprise, the count himself
entered, tenderly embraced him, and besought his forgiveness for all
the suffering that had been inflicted on him.
The warder of the tower, it appeared, had remarked the golden duck,
and heard with astonishment how she spoke with a human voice, and
conversed with the prisoner; all of which he had disclosed to the
count. The count thus discovered, by listening in secret to their
conversation, the fraud which had imposed the false bride upon him
instead of the true and beautiful one. Vain, however, were his efforts
the following night to get the golden duck into his power; she escaped
from all the attendants who endeavoured to catch her; and snares and
nets and all the artifices they practised, and all the pains they
took, were of no avail.
Then the count entreated the intercession of the brother. Since his
hard fate had robbed him of such an amiable wife, he besought her at
least in her present form to inhabit his castle. It was possible that
his grief, his love, might move the offended fairy to restore her to
her former shape.
Henry freely forgave the count, and promised to make his request known
to his sister the next time she should visit him. Before, however, the
duck's next visit, Adelheid expired, for the reproaches of her
husband, and her own grief and remorse, had brought her to the grave.
As soon as she was dead, the count banished Jutta to a remote place
and forbade her ever to appear in his presence again. With Henry he
lived on his former friendly terms.
Both lived in hopes of the reappearance of the golden duck. Long did
they wait in vain, and they began to fear that the endeavours of the
count to catch her had scared her from the place for ever, when one
afternoon, as Henry was sitting alone in the dining-hall, she flew in
at the window, and began gathering up the scattered crumbs on the
table. How great was the brother's joy! He addressed her by the
tenderest names, stroked her golden feathers, and inquired why she had
remained so long absent.
Then Emma complained of the efforts to catch her, which the count's
servants had made, and threatened never to return should such he
repeated. The entreaty which Henry made in the count's name that she
would dwell in the castle she decidedly rejected; and as she heard a
noise in the adjoining chamber, she hastily flew away.
For a long time the youth hesitated whether he should tell the count
of his sister's visit; as, however, he knew the strong affection of
his friend, and feared he might not refrain from fresh attempts
against the liberty of the golden duck, he resolved to say nothing
about it. But the count had seen the duck fly past, and when Henry
said nothing about it, he conceived mistrust of him, and laid a new
plan to get possession of her.
The following morning, when Emma flew into her brother's chamber, the
window was suddenly closed, the count having fastened a cord to it
from above, and in a few moments he entered the room thinking he had
now made sure of the much-desired prize. But the duck fluttered about,
and made her exit through the keyhole.
Henry was much distressed, for he feared that he should now see his
beloved sister no more, and heaped reproaches on the astonished count,
who returned them to him so liberally, that they separated in mutual
disgust, and Henry resolved to quit the city and wander through the
wide world.
One day after he had long travelled he found himself in a thick fir
wood, when suddenly a female form of great dignity stood before him,
in whom Henry at once recognised the fairy who had so richly gifted
his sister.
"Wherefore," said she, with a reproachful look, "didst thou leave the
castle at the time when thy sister's ill fortune, of which thou wert
the cause, was beginning to turn to good? Hasten back immediately,
confirm the count in the remorse for his profligate life which is now
awakening in him, and the golden duck will then be released from her
enchantment. And not only shall she retain the wonderful gifts she has
hitherto possessed, but thenceforth she shall no longer have to fear
air and sun-light."
The fairy disappeared, and Henry returned full of hope to the castle.
On his way thither he met several of the count's servants, who told
him their lord had sent them out with commands not to return until
they found him. For they added, since Henry's departure had left the
count so lonely and forsaken, he had fallen sick through sorrow and
longing after his friend.
When Henry entered the count's chamber, he found him lying on his bed
really ill and unhappy. He comforted him with the fairy's promise, and
the count solemnly vowed that he would never more return to his wild
and sinful mode of life.
Scarcely had he uttered this solemn vow, when the window flew open of
itself, the golden duck flew into the chamber, and, perching on the
bed-post, said, "The period of my trials is completed. I may now
return to my former figure and remain with you for ever."
Then the golden feathers dropped from her body; the long beak rounded
into mouth and chin, above which gazed a pair of lovely eyes; before
they could look round, a wondrously beautiful maiden stood before
them, magnificently habited, and her joy at being re-united to her
brother and her bridegroom drew the purest pearls from her eyes.
At the sight of her the count felt himself at once cured of his
illness, and, a few days after, the nuptial feast was celebrated with
all the pomp and magnificence befitting the high station and great
wealth of the count.
GOLDY.
[From Justinus Kerner.]
Many a long year ago there lived in a great forest a poor herdsman,
who had built himself a log cabin in the midst of it, where he dwelt
with his wife and his six children, all of whom were boys. There was a
draw-well by the house, and a little garden, and when their father was
looking after the cattle the children carried out to him a cool
draught from the well, or a dish of vegetables from the garden.
The youngest of the boys was called by his parents Goldy, for his
locks were like gold, and although the youngest he was stronger and
taller than all his brothers. When the children went out into the
fields, Goldy always went first with a branch of a tree in his hand,
and no otherwise would the other children go, for each feared lest
some adventure should befall him; but when Goldy led them they
followed cheerfully, one behind the other, through even the darkest
thicket, although the moon might have already risen over the
mountains.
One evening, on their return from their father, the children had
amused themselves by playing in the wood, and Goldy especially had so
heated himself in their games, that he was as rosy as the sky at
sun-set.
"Let us return," said the eldest, "it seems growing dark."
"See," said the second, "there is the moon!"
At that moment a light appeared through the dark fir-trees, and a
female form, shining like the moon, seated herself on the mossy stone,
and span, with a crystal distaff, a fine thread, nodding her head
towards Goldy, singing:--
"The snow-white finch, the gold rose, for thee;
The king's crown lies in the lap of the sea!"
She was about to continue her song when the thread broke, and she was
instantly extinguished like the flame of a candle. It being now quite
dark, terror seized the children, and they ran about crying piteously,
one here, and another there, over rock and pit, till they lost each
other.
Many a day and night did Goldy wander in the thick forest, but could
find neither his brothers nor his father's hut, nor yet the trace of a
human foot, for the forest had become more dense; one hill seemed to
rise above another, and pit after pit intercepted his path.
The blackberries, that grew in profusion, satisfied his hunger and
slaked his thirst, otherwise he must have perished miserably. At last,
on the third day--some say it was not until the sixth or seventh--the
forest became less and less dense, and at last he got out of it, and
found himself in a lovely green meadow.
Then his heart grew light, and he inhaled the pure fresh air.
Nets were spread over the meadow, for a bird-catcher lived there, who
caught the birds which flew out of the wood, and carried them into the
city for sale.
"That is just such a boy as I want," thought the bird-catcher, when he
saw Goldy, who stood in the meadow close to the net, gazing with
longing eyes into the blue sky; and then in jest he drew his net, and
imprisoned within it the astonished boy, who could not comprehend what
had befallen him. "That's the way we catch the birds that come out of
the wood," said the bird-catcher, laughing heartily. "Your red
feathers please me right well. So I have caught you, have I, my little
fox? You had better stay with me, and I will teach you how to catch
birds!"
Goldy was well content; he thought he should lead a merry life amongst
the birds, especially as he abandoned all hope of again finding his
father's hut.
"Let us see how much you have learnt," said the bird-catcher to him,
some days after. Goldy drew the net, and caught a snow-white
chaffinch.
"Confound you and this white chaffinch!" screamed the bird-catcher;
"you are in league with the evil one!" and he drove him roughly from
the meadow, at the same time treading under his feet, the white
chaffinch which Goldy had handed over to him.
Goldy could not conceive what the bird-catcher meant; he returned
sadly, but yet not despairingly, to the forest, with the intention of
renewing his endeavours to find his father's hut. Day and night he
wandered about, climbing over fragments of rock and old fallen trees,
and often stumbled and fell over the old black roots which protruded
in all directions from out of the ground.
On the third day, however, the forest once more became somewhat
clearer, and he issued from it into a beautiful bright garden, full of
the most delightful flowers, and as he had never before seen such he
stood gazing full of admiration. The gardener no sooner perceived
him--for Goldy stood beneath the sunflowers, and his locks glistened
in the sunshine just like one of them--than he exclaimed: "Ha! he is
just such a boy as I want!" and the garden-gate closed directly. Goldy
was very well satisfied, for he thought he should lead a gay life
amongst the flowers, and he had again lost the hope of getting back to
his father's cottage.
"Off with you to the forest!" said the gardener to him one morning,
"and fetch me the stem of a wild rose, that I may engraft cultivated
roses on it."
Goldy went and returned with a rose-bush bearing the most beautiful
golden-coloured roses imaginable, which looked exactly as if they were
the work of the most skilful of goldsmiths, and prepared to adorn a
monarch's table.
"Confound you, with these golden roses!" screamed the gardener; "you
are in league with the evil one!" and he drove Goldy roughly out of
the garden, as with plenty of abuse he trampled the golden roses on
the ground.
Goldy knew not what the gardener could mean; but he went calmly back
into the forest, and again set himself to seek after his father's
cabin.
He walked on day and night, from tree to tree, from rock to rock. On
the third day, the forest again became clearer and clearer, and he
came to the shore of the blue sea. It lay before him without a
boundary; the sun mirrored itself in the crystal surface, which
glistened like liquid gold, and gay vessels with far-floating
streamers floated on the waves. Some fishermen sat in a pretty bark on
the shore, into which Goldy entered, and gazed with wonder out into
the bright distance.
"We stand in need of just such a boy," said the fisherman, and off
they pushed into the sea. Goldy was well pleased to go with them, for
he thought it must be a golden life there amongst the bright waves,
and he had quite lost all hope of again finding his father's hut.
The fishermen cast their nets, but took nothing.
"Let us see if you will have better luck," said an old fisherman with
silver hair, addressing Goldy. With unskilful hands he let down the
net into the deep, drew it up, and lo! he brought up in it--a crown of
pure gold.
"Triumph!" cried the ancient fisherman, at the same time throwing
himself at Goldy's feet. "I hail thee as our king! A hundred years
ago, the last of our kings, having no heir, when he was about to die,
cast his crown into the sea, and until the fortunate being destined by
fate, should again draw up the crown from the deep, the throne,
without an occupant, was to remain wrapt in gloom."
"Hail to our king!" cried all the fishermen, and they placed the crown
on the boy's head. The tidings of Goldy and of the regained crown,
resounded from vessel to vessel, and across the sea far into the land.
The golden surface was soon crowded with gay barks and ships, adorned
with festoons of flowers and branches; they all saluted with loud
acclamations of joy the vessel in which was the Boy-king. He stood
with the bright crown upon his head, at the prow of the vessel, and
gazed calmly on the sun as it sank into the sea, whilst his golden
locks waved in the refreshing evening breeze.
THE SERPENT PRINCE.
[Italian.]
There lived once a peasant's wife who would have given all she
possessed to have a child, but yet she never had one.