telling no lie--this man would now be a hundred years old, if not
twenty more to boot; his wife, too, was older than any body I know;
she was like the Friday-goddess (Venus), and from youth to age had
never had a single child. Only those who know what children are in a
house can understand the uncontrollable grief in the empty home of the
old man and his wife. The poor old man had done every thing in his
power to have his house brightened and filled with joy by what he
himself so greatly desired. He had given alms to the convents and
churches, he had had liturgies read in seven churches, had sent for
priests with white beards, because they are the holiest men and have
more earnestness in prayer, and had had masses read for all the
saints and prayers for the last unction. But every thing was useless.
The old wife had clung to the witches and magicians. There was not an
enchanter to whom she had not gone for advice, even if he lived a
week's journey off. As I said before, what wouldn't she have done! But
it was vain, all was useless.
One day the old man said sadly and thoughtfully:
"Old wife!"
"What do you want?"
"Give me some provisions to take with me on my journey, for I intend
to travel through the wide world, looking wherever I go to try and
find a child, for my heart aches and burns when I think that the end
of my life is drawing near, and no heir will have my house after me,
but all my property fall into the hands of strangers. I have tried all
ways, now I will take this one. And I'll tell you one thing: If I find
no child, I won't come home any more."
With these words the old man took his knapsack on his back, went out
of the house, and began his journey. He walked on and on and on
through the kingdom and the world, as God willed. Listen, good
friends, I am telling the truth. He walked on till he came to a thick
forest, so dense that it seemed like a wall. Tree was intwined with
tree, bush with bush, so that the sun could not even send so much as a
ray of light through the foliage. When the old man saw these vast
woods he thrice made the sign of the cross toward the east, prostrated
himself three times, also toward the east, and then entered with great
sorrow. How long a time he spent in groping about the forest I don't
know, but I do know that one day he reached the entrance of a cave.
This cave was hundreds and thousands of times darker than the deep
forest, as dark as it is when we shut our eyes, as dark as it usually
is in endless caverns. The old man crossed himself three times, fell
on his knees several times, and then, with God's assistance, turned
around a projection of a rock. He went about the distance of a
gun-shot and saw a light in a cranny. Approaching nearer and nearer he
could not believe his eyes when he saw what was standing beside it. An
old hermit! He was very old, as ancient as the world. He had a white
beard that reached to his knees, and when he raised his eyebrows and
then lowered them again they shaded the whole cave.
The hermit stood like a pillar of stone, his eyes fixed on a
psalm-book on which his elbow rested, and which was sprinkled with big
red characters; it was very, very old, so old that God alone knew to
what period it belonged; and on a broad stone a yellow wax-candle
blazed with a red flame and a blue smoke that was as dense as a cloud.
The old man approached the praying saint and, again falling on his
knees, said:
"Good-evening, holy father!"
The hermit was so absorbed in his litany that he heard nothing. So our
old man spoke louder. The hermit did not stir, but made him a sign
with his crutch to move aside. The old man stood aloof till the hermit
had finished his prayer. When it was over, he raised his eyebrows and
began:
"My son, what do you seek from me in this dark, cheerless abode? For
many centuries my eyes have seen no human face, and now I wonder what
has led your footsteps hither."
The old man answered:
"I kiss your right hand. My unhappiness has brought me here. I have
lived with my wife many years, but we have no children, and I should
like to have an heir when I behold our Lord's glorious face."
The hermit took an apple, and, after having blessed it, cut it in two,
and said:
"Take these two halves of the apple; give this one to your wife, eat
the other yourself, and in God's name do not wander over the world
so."
The old man took the gift, kissed the hermit's right hand and feet,
and left the cave. Entering the dense forest, he walked a long time
before he came to the meadows. There a terrible thirst and burning
sensation in the throat seized upon him. What should he do, for he
found no water? He did precisely what he was destined to do. He took
the half apple and ate it. But instead of the half intended for him,
he ate his wife's. He had scarcely swallowed it when he felt as if he
could go no further. So he sank down on the grass where a quantity of
yellow cheese-wort was growing, and fell sound asleep. And the angel
of the Lord came down from Heaven, and watched beside him. When he
awoke, what did his eyes behold? The wonder of wonders! The most
marvelous of marvels! By his side, among the herbs, a little child was
crying and moving its tiny hands. The angel brought some basil and
some water that had been consecrated nine years, sprinkled the child,
and christened it, giving it the name of "Little Wild-Rose." The old
man, happier than he had ever been at the sight of the pretty little
girl, took her in his arms, kissed her, and set off with her to his
wife. When he reached the house he took a kneading-trough, put the
little thing in it, set it on the roof, and then crawled into the
cottage, saying:
"Come quick, wife, come quick, and see what a treasure of a daughter,
with golden hair and eyes like stars, our Lord has given me."
When they hurried out, to see the treasure of a girl and take the
trough down from the roof, they saw nothing, no trace of the child
anywhere. The old man crossed himself and sighed deeply. He searched
hither and thither, right and left, but the little girl was nowhere to
be found. He hunted through the straw in the hut and on the ground
behind it to see if she had fallen down; but if she wasn't there she
wasn't, and that ended the matter, for they couldn't stamp her out of
the earth.
Oh, heavens, how the old man grieved and wrung his hands in despair.
How could he help being startled by such a thing! He had put the child
in the trough and seen her after he had laid her in it, and knew
exactly where he had left her, and now to be unable to find her just a
moment after was quite too bad.
"What could have happened to the little girl? Has the angel of the
Lord taken her? Have the elves and wicked gnomes stolen her away?
What in the world could have occurred!" said the man, sighing.
Somebody had taken her, that was plain. But neither angels nor elves
nor wicked gnomes frequented the neighborhood. Now, my good friends,
just listen to the amazing event. A vulture or a griffin, whichever it
was, but we'll say a griffin, was passing by, and, hearing the child's
cries, swooped swiftly down, seized the little one, tucked her under
its right wing, soared up into the sky with her, and took her to its
eyry to feed its young. After putting her in its nest, the griffin
flew off again. But the young birds, instead of eating the little
girl, looked kindly at her, gave her some soft bread-crumbs, made a
bed for her, and covered her with their wings to protect her from the
chill of the morning air.
I must now tell you that in this terrible forest, at the bottom of a
well of pure poison, lived a dragon with twelve heads, and this well
was not far from the tree in whose top rested the griffin's nest. This
horrible dragon never let the little griffins grow up, but as soon as
they were ready to fly stretched out two of its fiery heads and put an
end to their lives, so that the poor old griffin had never yet, in all
its life, been able to see even one of its children fly off.
The present brood were now full-grown, and were waiting for daylight
to fly through the woods and mountains, when lo, just at midnight the
water of the well made a splashing noise, and what appeared in the
moonlight that flickered through the trees? Two fiery heads, which
approached the nest, setting up such a howling and wailing that the
mountains shook to their foundations and the valleys rocked to and fro
like cradles. Suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, the joints of the
earth and sky trembled and quaked, and the archangel, grasping a sword
in his hand, appeared on a golden cloud, darting downward like a
thunderbolt. Just as the dragon was going to seize the young griffins,
the angel flashed his sword from east to west, and again from west to
east, cutting off both heads as easily as one drinks a spoonful of
water. Then two still more terrible ones came, but they were also
hacked into pieces. Two others next appeared; they, too, were
destroyed, and so fared all the twelve. Blood and poison flowed till
the whole forest and valley were turned into a marsh, and the heads
dashed against the tree which held the nest, so that the leaves fell
from the boughs for ten miles around. The angel took some basil plant,
and sprinkled the four quarters of the earth with water that had been
consecrated in Paradise nine years before. The pools of blood all
gathered into one spot, the heads lost their vitality, and the ground
opened, swallowing them up with all the blood, so that the wood once
more became pure and bright as God meant it to be.
When the griffin came back at dawn, found its children safe in the
nest, and saw that the accursed well had disappeared, it uttered such
a cry of delight that the earth for nine miles round trembled and
shook.
Then it waked the young birds and said:
"Tell me quickly, my darlings, who has done me this great favor?"
The young birds shook their heads and replied: "We don't know any
thing about it, we have been asleep all night."
As the griffin looked about, its glance fell upon the little girl,
whose golden hair and starry eyes were glittering in the morning
sunlight like the torches of Paradise, and the thought instantly
darted through its mind that this beautiful light must have rendered
the unspeakable benefit.
"Children," said the griffin, angrily, "you haven't eaten the little
girl, what does this mean?" The young birds kept as still as mice, but
the griffin straightway swallowed lovely little Wild-Rose, yet when
she appeared again she was seven times as beautiful as before.
The griffin now set about a great task; all day long it brought
flowers and soft green moss from the woodland meadows to make the
little girl a room like a fairy's nest, and this tiny chamber,
whenever the wind blew, rocked to and fro like a cradle. From this
time little Wild-Rose was as dear to it as its own children, nay, she
was the very apple of the griffin's eye, and it took care of her and
fed her with the very best things a griffin could find.
So the little Wild-Rose with the golden hair began to grow and
flourish like a stately lily. In the morning the merry dawn kissed and
woke her, at noon the shadows of the leafy boughs fanned her, and in
the evening she was lulled to rest by the gentle breezes and the tunes
that echoed through the forest from the shepherds' pipes.
So the little girl grew in beauty till she was able to stand alone,
and one day, just as the evening-star was bathing in the rosy light
left by the sun when it sank behind the mountains, the Lord permitted
what had been predestined to happen, though it was something that had
never occurred before, since this world was created and the sun began
its course through the sky. So it happened that little Wild-Rose stood
up, came out of her little room, and for the first time gazed into the
world. But when she looked at the evening-sky the air quivered, the
rising stars trembled, and on the eastern horizon a second sun, more
beautiful and a hundred times brighter than the one which had set
behind the mountains, rose upward in majesty and splendor as if
mounting from a sea of fire. The forests, chasms and valleys quaked,
the flowers whispered sweetly to each other and turned their little
heads toward the vivifying waves of light. And now behold--the fairest
flowers tried to drink in the little maid's glances, and the trees
around bowed their tops to rejoice in little Wild-Rose's beauty. In
short, the whole of God's creation, the birds in the sky as well as
the beasts in the forest, exulted and jumped for joy over the divine
miracle.
After that evening's festival, twice three days passed, then three
times three, finally still more until little Wild-Rose was fourteen
years old.
At fourteen little Wild-Rose was beautiful--so beautiful that I am
afraid to praise her and describe her perfections, lest you should
afterward say that you had seen some one equally handsome. But there
was no one like her under the sun. Lovely as she was, no human being
had seen her, and she had no idea of empires and cities; she lived on
sisterly terms with the flowers, danced with the butterflies, was
lulled by the murmur of the brook, vied with the birds in singing.
Now, my dear readers, forgive me for first telling you I would say
nothing, and afterward adding a few words in praise of little
Wild-Rose. Who that has ever seen her can help talking about her?
So the days passed like hours and the hours like minutes, until one
day a great hunt took place in the beautiful woods.
The emperor's son went to the chase too.
Well, evidently this ought to have been. The prince, in a good or evil
hour--I don't know which I ought to say--saw a deer bound into the
thicket, and hurried after the animal faster and faster and faster,
till the young hero found himself where he had never been even in his
dreams--in the very depths of the dense forest, which was still
untrodden by any human foot.
When the prince discovered his situation, he stood still and listened,
to try to hear some sound in this solitude; the barking of a dog, the
blast of a horn, the report of a gun, any thing of the sort would have
pleased the youth. But he listened in vain, utter silence and solitude
surrounded him. After gazing around him for some time a dazzling light
gleamed through the foliage. He glanced that way again, and felt that
he must know what was there. One, two, three, and he reached the spot
to see what it was. And he found--found the tree with the dainty
little swinging chamber, and the young griffins staring at him.
Whatever he may have thought, he drew his bow and would have instantly
shot off the heads of the whole brood, when, like a thunderbolt, a
blaze of light flashed into his face, dazzling him so that he dropped
the bow and covered his eyes with his hands. When he looked that way
again, he saw for half a minute the face and figure of little
Wild-Rose, felt as if he were in the other world, and could not help
falling on the grass in a fainting-fit. When he recovered his senses
he called to the young girl to come down. But how was Wild-Rose to do
such a thing? She did not go to a young man, but staid quietly at home
with her mamma.
When the prince saw this he went away as he had come. Yet no, not
exactly as he had come, for when he arrived his heart had not been
full of love and longing. Neither had he come through the bushes
without any trace of path or opening. But now he tumbled about
wherever he went, as though he had no eyes. Yet, however he returned,
he _did_ return, arriving just as the shepherds were driving their
cattle from the pasture into the village, and there he luckily met two
of his hunting companions.
Early the next morning heralds from the imperial court went through
the whole country, proclaiming that whoever would promise to bring a
wonder of a girl from the forest of the well with two trees, would be
received by the emperor as his councilor so long as he lived and the
whole court would do him honor. Lo, and behold! there came an old,
lame woman, with a hump on her back and as much hair on her head as
there is on the palm of the hand. "I am the person who can bring the
girl from the forest of the well with the two trees," she said. The
heralds looked at the old woman and burst out laughing.
"Are you from Satan's kingdom, you scare-crow?" said a herald. "Who,
in the Wood Witch's name, brought you in our way, for now we shall
have no luck. Begone from our sight."
But the old woman insisted that she could bring the girl from the
forest. And she stuck to the heralds like a bur to a sheep.
Then the oldest herald said: "Comrades, take her with us, for the
emperor said plainly that we were to bring to the court any person, no
matter who, that boasted of being able to execute his command; take
the old woman and put her in the carriage."
So they took the old woman and carried her to court.
"You have boasted that you could bring the girl from the forest?"
asked the emperor, seated on his throne.
"Long life to your majesty. Yes, I promised to do so."
"Then set to work."
"Let that be the old woman's care, but give me a kettle and a tripod."
She quickly received them and set off behind the emperor's huntsmen,
her mouth chattering and the kettle rattling, as the gipsies do when
they bring a bride to her wedding. The prince had not remained at
home either. How could he have staid behind and not known the why and
wherefore! When the party reached the forest, the hunters and the
prince halted and the old woman went on, like the Wood Witch, alone.
The shrewd, cunning old woman lighted a fire under the tree where the
girl was, placed the tripod over the flames, and hung the kettle on
it. But the kettle stood awry and upset as fast as she put it on.
Little Wild-Rose, who was looking down from her room and saw the old
woman's stupidity, lost her patience and called:
"Not that way, old woman, set the tripod the other way."
"But suppose I don't know how, my darling?"
And she vainly set it up, turned it round, and straightened it, the
kettle would not stand. Wild-Rose grew more and more impatient and
angry.
"Haven't I already told you once that it won't stand so? Turn the
handle of the kettle toward the trunk of the tree."
The old woman did exactly the opposite, and then said:
"Come down and show me, dear child."
And Wild-Rose, absorbed by that one idea, climbed quickly down the
tree to teach the crone. But the old woman taught her so that she
needed no second lesson. Seizing her by the arm, she lifted her on her
shoulder and ran off with her to the enamored prince. When the prince
saw Wild-Rose, he came to meet her, begged for her hand, and,
trembling, kissed her. Then she was clothed in magnificent garments,
which had been embroidered with gold and pearls by nine princesses.
She was placed in the imperial carriage, and the horses stopped only
once on the way home to take breath, for they had no equals except
among the steeds of the sun. When they reached the palace, the prince
lifted her out, led her in, and seated her at the table as if she were
a real princess. The young hero's parents gazed at her with delight,
and remembered their own youth. At the end of a week a magnificent
wedding was celebrated, which lasted for three days and three nights,
then, after twenty-four hours' intermission, three days and three
nights more were spent in splendid festivities.
I was there, too, but as I am lame in one foot, I did not arrive until
the wedding was over and had great trouble in finding some clear
broth, which I searched in vain for a crumb of meat and then sipped
from a sieve, so you can imagine how much I had and how I spent the
time.
The Voice of Death.
Once upon a time something happened. If it had not happened, it would
not be told.
There was once a man who prayed daily to God to grant him riches. One
day his numerous and frequent prayers found our Lord in the mood to
listen to them. When the man had grown rich he did not want to die, so
he resolved to go from country to country and settle wherever he heard
that the people lived forever. He prepared for his journey, told his
wife his plan, and set off.
In every country he reached he asked whether people ever died there,
and went on at once if he was told that they did. At last he arrived
in a land where the inhabitants said they did not know what dying
meant. The traveler, full of joy, asked:
"But are there not immense crowds of people here, if none of you die?"
"No, there are no immense crowds," was the reply, "for you see, every
now and then somebody comes and calls one after another, and whoever
follows him, never returns."
"And do people see the person who calls them?" asked the traveler.
"Why shouldn't they see him?" he was answered.
The man could not wonder enough at the stupidity of those who followed
the person that called them, though they knew that they would be
obliged to stay where he took them. Returning home, he collected all
his property, and with his wife and children, went to settle in the
country where people did not die but were called by a certain person
and never came back. He had therefore firmly resolved that neither he
nor his family would ever follow any body who called them, no matter
who it might be.
So, after he had established himself and arranged all his business
affairs, he advised his wife and all his family on no account to
follow any one who might call them, if, as he said, they did not want
to die.
So they gave themselves up to pleasure, and in this way spent several
years. One day, when they were all sitting comfortably in their house,
his wife suddenly began to call:
"I'm coming, I'm coming!"
And she looked around the room for her fur jacket. Her husband
instantly started up, seized her by the hand, and began to reproach
her.
"So you don't heed my advice? Stay here, if you don't want to die."
"Don't you hear how he is calling me? I'll only see what he wants and
come back at once."
And she struggled to escape from her husband's grasp and go.
He held her fast and managed to bolt all the doors in the room. When
she saw that, she said:
"Let me alone, husband, I don't care about going now."
The man thought she had come to her senses and given up her crazy
idea, but before long the wife rushed to the nearest door, hurriedly
opened it, and ran out. Her husband followed, holding her by her fur
sack and entreating her not to go, for she would never return. She let
her hands fall, bent backward, then leaned a little forward and
suddenly threw herself back, slipping off her sack and leaving it in
her husband's grasp, who stood stock still staring after her as she
rushed on, screaming with all her might:
"I'm coming, I'm coming."
When he could see her no longer, the husband collected his senses,
went back to the house, and said:
"If you are mad and want to die, go in God's name, I can't help you;
I've told you often enough that you must follow no one, no matter who
called you."
Days passed, many days; weeks, months, years followed, and the peace
of the man's household was not disturbed again.
But at last one morning, when he went to his barber's as usual to be
shaved, just as he had the soap on his chin, and the shop was full of
people, he began to shout:
"I won't come, do you hear, I won't come!"
The barber and his customers all stared in amazement. The man, looking
toward the door, said again: "Take notice, once for all, that I won't
come, and go away from there."
Afterward he cried:
"Go away, do you hear, if you want to get off with a whole skin, for I
tell you a thousand times I won't come."
Then, as if some one was standing at the door constantly calling him,
he grew angry and raved at the person for not leaving him in peace. At
last he sprang up and snatched the razor from the barber's hand,
crying:
"Give it to me, that I may show him what it is to continually annoy
people."
And he ran at full speed after the person who, he said, was calling
him, but whom nobody else could see. The poor barber, who did not want
to lose his razor, followed. The man ran, the barber pursued, till
they passed beyond the city limits, and, just outside of the town, the
man fell into a chasm from which he did not come out again, so he
also, like all the rest, followed the voice that called him.
The barber, who returned home panting for breath, told everybody he
met what had happened and so the belief spread through the country
that the people, who had gone away and not returned, had fallen into
that gulf, for until then no one had known what became of those who
followed the person that summoned them.
When a throng set out to visit the scene of misfortune, to see the
insatiable gulf which swallowed up all the people and yet never had
enough, nothing was found; it looked as if, since the beginning of
the world, nothing had been there except a broad plain, and from that
time the population of the neighborhood began to die like the human
beings in the rest of the earth.
The Old Woman and the Old Man.
Once upon a time there was an old man and an old woman, who had not a
single child in their old age, and it was very hard for them, because
they had no help, not even to light the fire; when they came home from
working in the fields, they were obliged to begin with lighting the
fire and then prepare their food.