They say there was once a father who was a rich, very rich, merchant,
and the daughters had been used all their lives to have every thing
that money could buy them, so that one day when the father was going to
a distant mart where he expected to find the choicest wares, and asked
them what he should bring home, they scarcely knew what to ask. But
when he told them he expected to find shawls of such brilliant hues
as they had never seen, with gold threads interwoven, the eldest
instantly begged him to bring her one of these; and when he said he
expected to find coverlets of bird plumage vieing with the rainbow
in brilliancy, the second entreated him to bring her one of these.
The third daughter, however, who was distinguished by stay-at-home
habits, and by her distaste for vanity of every kind, would not have
any of these gay ornaments, though he not only offered her shawls and
coverlets such as her sisters revelled in the idea of possessing, but
precious jewelry, sparkling rubies, and rarest pearls. She would have
none of these, but asked him only to bring her a pot of marjoram,
which she wanted for household uses as none was to be got in the
country where they were living.
The father soon after set out on his travels, and having reached his
destination did not fail, while laying in his rare and precious stock,
to select the choicest specimens to bestow on his two eldest daughters.
But the homely pot of marjoram quite went out of his head, and he
returned homewards without having so much as thought of it.
He was nearly home when he was accosted on the way by a strange-looking
man one evening, who asked him if he would not buy of him a pot
of marjoram.
'A pot of marjoram!' The words brought back his youngest daughter's
request whom he would not have disappointed for all the world.
'A pot of marjoram, say you? Yes, it's just what I want. Give it
here, and there's something extra because it is just what I want;'
and throwing him money to three or four times the ordinary value
of the article, he called to an attendant to stow the pot on to the
pack-saddle of one of the mules.
But the stranger held back the pot and laughed in his face.
'I had thought you were a trader,' he said, 'and knew enough of the
rules of trade to let a man fix his own price on his own wares.'
The merchant laughed in his turn at what seemed to him an insolent
comparison.
'When a trader goes thousands of miles, through a thousand perils
to bring home precious wares from afar which those at home scarcely
know the use of, true, then, he alone can fix the price. But a pot
of marjoram, every one knows the price of that.'
'Perhaps not,' replied the stranger, binding his cloak about him with
the pot tightly held under his arm. 'At all events it is clear you
don't;' and he took a step forward as if he considered the negotiation
at an end.
The merchant was vexed; he would not on any account miss taking back
a pot of marjoram, and he knew he was now so near home that no other
chance would there be of procuring one. Swallowing down his annoyance
as well as he could, therefore, he led his horse nearer to the strange
man and said,--
'You make me quite curious to hear your price named, friend, as till
this moment I had not thought there could be two ideas on the subject.'
'My price is three hundred thousand scudi,' replied the strange man,
who was really a magician; 'and if you knew its powers you would know,
too, it is cheap at that.'
And again he made as if he would have gone on his way, indifferent
whether the bargain were concluded or not.
The merchant was quite puzzled how to act. The pot of marjoram he must
have, and his knowledge of the art of bargaining convinced him that the
man's manner meant he would not rebate an iota of his price. Whatever
awkwardness he felt in suddenly giving three hundred thousand scudi
for an article he had just appraised at a paul it was even more
apparent to him that any attempt at haggling would only have added to
the absurdity of the situation by its futility. Therefore, assuming a
magnificent air, as if the vast price were after all no matter to him,
he called to his steward to count out the sum demanded and rode on.
Arrived at home, his showy presents were received with raptures by his
two eldest daughters, while the youngest received her modest-seeming
share of his generosity with an expression of surprise and admiration,
which gave the good merchant a secret satisfaction in imagining that
she was not altogether ignorant of its immense value.
As days went by, however, everything fell back into the usual
routine. The elder sisters continued the same round of gaiety in
which they had ever been immersed, the younger remained as of old,
quietly absorbed in her household duties; but if she had any pastime
it was that of diligently cultivating her pot of marjoram. By degrees,
however, through the steward's gossip with the servants, it came round
to the knowledge of the sisters that, though their younger sister
had seemed to frame so humble a request, its satisfaction had cost
their father's treasury a fabulous sum. The discovery excited their
utmost indignation, and their jealousy being roused, they determined
to inflict a condign and appropriate punishment for what they deemed
her presumption, by destroying the illstarred pot of marjoram.
To get at it, however, was no easy matter, as its guardian seldom
left the house, and was always watching over it with jealous care. At
last they resolved, by way of pretext for securing her absence, to
represent to their father that it was not good for a young girl to
remain so shut up; that whether she had a taste for it or not, she
ought to see the world; and urged their arguments so efficaciously
that he quite admitted their cogency, and one evening, calling his
youngest daughter to him, imperatively required that she should
accompany him to an evening engagement.
The poor child dared not disobey her father, but parted from her pot of
marjoram with a heavy heart, as if some foreboding of evil possessed
her. No sooner had she left the house than the sisters went up into
her room, and taking the pot of marjoram, flung it out of the window,
so that it all lay broken and shattered on the highroad, where it
was soon trampled under foot and every vestige of it dispersed.
When she came in and saw what was done her grief was unbounded,
and no sooner was the house sunk in slumber than, determining to
live no longer under the same roof with those who had treated her so
unfeelingly, she set out to wander forth absorbed in sorrow, and not
caring whither she went.
On, on, on she went, taking no heed of the way, all through the night,
and when the morning dawned she found herself in the midst of a vast
plain, at a place where many roads met. As she hesitated for a moment
which she should take, there suddenly appeared before her a fairy,
[61] though the last time she looked up she had not seen a speck
anywhere between herself and the horizon.
'Where are you going so early, my pretty maiden, and why weep
you?' said the fairy, in a soothing voice that seemed made to charm
an answer out of the most reluctant.
Nevertheless, it was no easy question to answer, for the maiden
had no sort of idea whither she was going; therefore she took the
second question first and poured out the whole tale of her sisters'
harshness and her late terrible disappointment.
'That is not so very bad after all,' replied the fairy, when she
had finished her tale. 'I see you have been trying to be a sensible
girl, but you must be brave as well as sensible. Men say of us women,
"Women always look at the dark side of things;" [62] there is always
a bright side which you must try to look out for, even when, as in
this instance, you couldn't possibly see it; for all the evil that
befalls us does not work evil in the end. [63] Now it happens that
there is a particularly bright side to this case of yours, and the
evil that was done you will bring you no ultimate harm. But you must
exercise fortitude and stedfastness in what you will have to do. For
this I will give you a man's clothing, as it would not be seemly for
a young girl like you to be going about the world alone, and it will
save you from many dangers.'
So saying, though she had no bundle of any sort about her, she produced
a complete suit of male attire, travelling cloak and all, and in the
girdle were bound weapons, and many articles of which the maiden did
not even know the use or the name, but the fairy assured her she would
want them all by and by. Then, having pointed out which was the road
she should take, she again bid her be of good heart, and disappeared
almost before the maiden had time to utter her heartfelt thanks.
The fairy had no sooner vanished than the whole face of the country
wore a different aspect; instead of being surrounded by a vast plain,
mighty mountains rose on the right hand and on the left, while before
her, straight along her path, was a dense forest. The maiden's heart
misgave her at the sight, but she remembered the fairy's advice and
walked steadily along. Notwithstanding her conversation had not seemed
to last many minutes too, the sun was already high in the heavens,
and its rays beat so fiercely upon her that she was glad even of the
gloomy forest's shade. Arrived at the first trees she was pleased
to hear the trickling of a little brook over the stones, and to find
that the good fairy had not failed to give her a supply of provisions
of which she now gladly availed herself.
As the afternoon grew cooler she rose and walked on till nightfall
without further adventure, and then disposed herself to rest for
the night, climbing first into the spreading boughs of a large tree,
that she might be out of the way of any wild beasts which the forest
might harbour.
In the middle of the night her sleep was disturbed by a horrible
growling; and what was her surprise when she fully woke to find that
though it proceeded from a common he-, and she-bear [64] stretched
out under the very tree she had chosen for her resting-place, she
could understand all the meaning it contained just as if they had
spoken in words; and she recognised the new power as another gift of
the good fairy.
'Where have you been all this long time?' growled the she-bear; 'it
is quite abominable what a long time you stay away now continually;
I have been hunting through the whole forest for you.'
'That was quite waste of trouble,' replied the he-bear testily,
'for I have been a long way from the forest.'
'Where were you, then?' growled the she-bear again, with a tone that
showed she was determined to know all about it.
'If you must know, I went twenty miles along the side of the river,
then over the back of the rocky mountains, and then skirting round the
forest till I came to the kingdom of Persia. And out of the kingdom
of Persia there went up a great wail, for last night, from his high
tower, the king of Persia fell out of window and broke all his bones,
moreover his flesh is all cut with the glass, which has entered into
his wounds. Therefore the land of Persia bewails her king.'
'Then let them get another king,' growled the she-bear.
'That is not so easy,' rejoined the he-bear. 'For over all the face of
the earth was no king so comely in person as the king of Persia. But
that is not the worst, for the matter concerns us more nearly than
you have any idea of.'
'How can it concern us?' retorted the she-bear.
'It concerns us so much that if anyone only knew of us we should
both be killed. For the only remedy for his wounds is that we should
both be killed, the fat of our bodies be melted together, an ointment
made of it with honey and wax, and be smeared over the king's body,
and then bathe him in warm baths, doing this alternately for the
space of three days he will be made well again. And now he has sent
a proclamation into all lands inviting any physician to come to heal
him by his art, and if any of them by their books and their divination
should discover this we both shall certainly be put to death.'
'Nonsense! do come and go to sleep,' replied the she-bear testily;
'how should anyone find us out in the midst of this forest?'
'It's not very likely certainly,' growled the he-bear.
And in consequence of this happy feeling of security both brutes were
soon fast asleep.
How gladly the maiden listened to their snoring, when she found she
could understand it just as well as their growling.
'I'm sound asleep,' snored the she-bear.
'I'm so tired I don't want ever to wake again,' snored her mate.
'Neither shall you,' said the maiden as she noiselessly let herself
down from the tree.
'Only think of that old king of Persia wanting our fat; long may he
wish for it!' snored the she-bear.
'Now it would be a fine thing to give back all his strength and his
beauty to the king of Persia, but the price of one's life is too much
for the honour,' snored the he-bear.
'Nevertheless, you shall have that honour,' whispered the maiden,
as she drew two sharp two-edged knives with which her girdle was
furnished, and, taking her stand firmly, plunged one with each hand
deep into the throat of each beast. A mingled stream of blood gushed
forth, and the two huge carcases rolled over without so much as a
grunt, so neatly had the execution been performed.
By the first morning's light she once more called all her courage to
her assistance, and cut up the carcasses, extracting the fat. Then
she lit a fire and melted it down together, nor was she without
the requisite wax and honey, for the good fairy had provided her
with enough of each. The ointment made, she set out to follow the
line of travel the bear had indicated, and not without much toil and
weariness at last found herself in the kingdom of Persia. Strong in
belief in the efficacy of her remedy, she presented herself at once
at the palace gate and demanded admission on the score of her ability
to effect the desired cure of the ailing king.
'Though I may not have the high-sounding fame of which I daresay many
can boast who have come at the summons of your king, yet so certain
am I of the powers of my treatment that I put my life in your hands,
and give you leave to torture me to death if I succeed not.'
'Fear not, fair sir,' replied the chamberlain; 'no difficulty will
be made in admitting you, for you alone have applied to heal the
king. Every other mediciner throughout the whole world, on reading
the description of the king's ailments given in the proclamation,
has pronounced his health past recovery, and not one will even make
the attempt.'
Pale, emaciated, and agonised as he was, the maiden at once recognised
on her admission to the presence of the king the justice of the bear's
account of his personal attractions, and now more earnestly than ever
desired her success.
The king very willingly submitted to her medicaments, and at the end
of three days was, as the bear had predicted, quite sound in limb and
restored to all his beauty of person. If his personal attractions had
been an object of admiration to the maiden, those of his supposed
physician had not been lost on the king, and when she came on the
fourth day to take her leave of him, he told her at once he could
not think of parting with her; she must remain attached to his court,
and be always his physician in attendance. The flush of joy which she
could not conceal at the proposal sufficed to convince the king of
the justice of certain suspicions he had already entertained, that
his supposed physician was no physician, but a maiden worthy to be
his queen.
For the moment he said nothing further, but only assigned to the
stranger apartments in the palace, and a suite of his own, and a
yearly stipend on the most liberal scale. As days went by, being
continually in each other's presence, with that familiarity which their
new relations allowed, each had the opportunity of growing more and
more fond of the other. At last the king called his chamberlain to
him one day and told him it was his desire that the state physician
should appear before him dressed in queenly robes, and attended by
a train of ladies of the court, and damsels and pages of honour.
The chamberlain fancied that the life-peril through which the prince
had so lately passed had injured his brain, and only undertook the
commission with a visible reluctance. Nevertheless, as he durst not
disobey any command of his sovereign, how strange soever, all was
done as he had directed; though what puzzled the chamberlain the
more was that the physician seemed as nearly demented as the king,
for, instead of testifying any reluctance in submitting to such a
travesty, his countenance had betrayed the most unmistakable joy at
hearing the king's pleasure.
The king had further given orders for the attendance of all the great
officers of state and all the nobles of the land, as well as his
guards of various degrees, all in brilliant gala dress. Before going
into the state hall to receive their homage, however, he entered alone
into his private cabinet, whither he commanded the attendance of his
physician. Both meeting thus, each habited to the greatest advantage
in their own appropriate dress, each was more than ever smitten with
the attractions of the other. The king was not very long in winning
from the maiden the confession that the robes she now wore were those
of her sex, or that she shared his own desire that they should be
united by that tie which would bind them together inseparably for
ever. No sooner had he thus obtained her consent than he led her into
the midst of the assembled court and required the homage of all his
people to her as their queen.
As for the wicked sisters, his first act was to send for them and
have them burnt to death.
['How well I remember,' added the narrator, 'the way my mother used
always to end that story when she told it to me.'
'And how was that?' asked I eagerly, not at all sorry to come across
some local addition at last.
'But it has nothing to do with the tale, really,' she replied, as
deeming it too unimportant to trouble me with.
'Never mind, I should like to hear it,' said I.
'Well then, it used to run thus: "Never was such a banquet made in all
the world as for the nuptials of this king of Persia. The confetti were
as big as eggs; and, do you know, I had five of them given to me."'
'O mamma,' I used to say then, 'why didn't you keep them for me? what
splendid confetti they must have been!'
'Stop, and you shall hear what I did with them,' she would reply.
Uno lo dava al gallo One I gave to the cock
Che mi portava a cavallo, Who carried me on his back, [65]
Una a la gallina And one to the hen
Che m' insegnò la via. Who showed me the way,
Uno al porco And one to the pig
Che m' insegnò la porta. Who pointed out the door;
Uno ne mangiai, One I ate myself,
E uno ne misse là, And one I put by there,
Che ancora ci sarà. Where no doubt it still remains.
And she used to point as she spoke at an old glass cabinet, where I
would go and rummage, always expecting to find the sweetmeat, till
one day, getting convinced it had no existence, I got very angry,
and threw a big key at one of the panes and broke it, and she never
would tell me that story any more.]