There was once a poor widow who had three sons. The two elder went out
to work for their living and while at home they were of little use, as
they seldom did as their mother wished, whatever she might say to them.
But the youngest lad always remained at home, and helped the old widow
in her daily occupations. Hence he was much beloved by his mother,
but disliked by his brothers, who in mockery gave him the nickname of
_Pinkel_.
One day the old widow said to her sons: “You must now go abroad in the
world, and seek your fortunes while you can. I am no longer able to
feed you here at home, now that you are grown up.” The lads answered
that they wished for nothing better, since it was contrary to their
mother’s will that they should remain at home. They then prepared for
their departure, and set out on their journey; but, after wandering
about from place to place, were unable to procure any employment.
After journeying thus for a long time, they came, late one evening,
to a vast lake. Far out in the water there was an island, on which
there appeared a strong light, as of fire. The lads stopped on shore
observing the wondrous light, and thence concluded that there must be
human beings in the place. As it was now dark, and the brothers knew
not where to find a shelter for the night, they resolved on taking a
boat that lay among the reeds, and rowing over to the island to beg a
lodging. With this view they placed themselves in the boat and rowed
across. On approaching the island they perceived a little hut standing
at the water’s edge; on reaching which they discovered that the bright
light, that shone over the neighbourhood, proceeded from a golden
lantern, that stood at the door of the hut. In the yard without, a
large goat was wandering about, with golden horns, to which small bells
were fastened, that gave forth a pleasing sound whenever the animal
moved. The brothers wondered much at all this, but most of all at the
old crone, who with her daughter inhabited the hut. The crone was both
old and ugly, but was sumptuously clad in a pelisse or cloak, worked so
artificially with golden threads that it glittered like burnished gold
in every hem. The lads saw now very clearly that they had come to no
ordinary human being, but to a Troll.
After some deliberation the brothers entered, and saw the crone
standing by the fire-place, and stirring with a ladle in a large pot
that was boiling on the hearth. They told their story and prayed to
be allowed to pass the night there; but the crone answered _no_, at
the same time directing them to a royal palace, which lay on the other
side of the lake. While speaking she kept looking intently on the
youngest boy, as he was standing and casting his eyes over everything
in the hut. The crone said to him: “What is thy name, my boy?” The
lad answered smartly: “I am called Pinkel.” The Troll then said: “Thy
brothers can go their way, but thou shalt stay here; for thou appearest
to me very crafty, and my mind tells me that I have no good to expect
from thee, if thou shouldst stay long at the king’s palace.” Pinkel now
humbly begged to be allowed to accompany his brothers, and promised
never to cause the crone harm or annoyance. At length he also got leave
to depart; after which the brothers hastened to the boat, not a little
glad that all three had escaped so well in this adventure.
Towards the morning they arrived at a royal palace, larger and more
magnificent than anything they had ever seen before. They entered and
begged for employment. The eldest two were received as helpers in the
royal stables, and the youngest was taken as page to the king’s young
son; and, being a sprightly intelligent lad, he soon won the good-will
of every one, and rose from day to day in the king’s favour. At this
his brothers were sorely nettled, not enduring that he should be
preferred to themselves. At length they consulted together how they
might compass the fall of their young brother, in the belief that
afterwards they should prosper better than before.
They therefore presented themselves one day before the king, and gave
him an exaggerated account of the beautiful lantern that shed light
over both land and water, adding that it ill beseemed a king to lack
so precious a jewel. On hearing this the king’s attention was excited,
and he asked: “Where is this lantern to be found, and who can procure
it for me?” The brothers answered: “No one can do that unless it be
our brother Pinkel. He knows best where the lantern is to be found.”
The king was now filled with desire to obtain the golden lantern,
about which he had heard tell, and commanded the youth to be called.
When Pinkel came, the king said: “If thou canst procure me the golden
lantern, that shines over land and water, I will make thee the chief
man in my whole court.” The youth promised to do his best to execute
his lord’s behest, and the king praised him for his willingness; but
the brothers rejoiced at heart; for they well knew it was a perilous
undertaking, which could hardly terminate favourably.
Pinkel now prepared a little boat, and, unaccompanied by any one,
rowed over to the island inhabited by the Troll crone. When he arrived
it was already evening, and the crone was busied in boiling porridge
for supper, as was her custom. The youth creeping softly up to the
roof, cast from time to time a handful of salt through the chimney, so
that it fell down into the pot that was boiling on the hearth. When
the porridge was ready, and the crone had begun to eat, she could not
conceive what had made it so salt and bitter. She was out of humour,
and chided her daughter, thinking that she had put too much salt into
the porridge; but let her dilute the porridge as she might, it could
not be eaten, so salt and bitter was it. She then ordered her daughter
to go to the well, that was just at the foot of the hill, and fetch
water, in order to prepare fresh porridge. The maiden answered: “How
can I go to the well? It is so dark out of doors, that I cannot find
the way over the hill.” “Then take my gold lantern,” said the crone
peevishly. The girl took the beautiful gold lantern accordingly, and
hastened away to fetch the water. But as she stooped to lift the pail,
Pinkel, who was on the watch, seized her by the feet, and cast her
headlong into the water. He then took the golden lantern, and betook
himself in all haste to his boat.
In the meantime the crone was wondering why her daughter stayed out
so long, and, at the same moment, chancing to look through the window
she saw the light gleaming far out on the water. At this sight she was
sorely vexed, and, hurrying down to the shore, cried aloud: “Is that
thou, Pinkel?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, it is I.” The
Troll continued: “art thou not a great knave?” The lad answered: “Yes,
dear mother, I am so.” The crone now began to lament and complain,
saying: “Ah! what a fool was I to let thee go from me; I might have
been sure thou wouldst play me some trick. If thou ever comest hither
again, thou shalt not escape.” And so the matter rested for that time.
[Illustration: Pinkel seized her by the feet and cast her headlong into
the water]
Pinkel now returned to the king’s palace, and became the chief person
at court, as the king had promised. But when the brothers were informed
what complete success he had had in his adventure, they became yet more
envious and embittered than before, and often consulted together how
they might accomplish the fall of their young brother, and gain the
king’s favour for themselves.
Both brothers went, therefore, a second time before the king, and began
relating at full length about the beautiful goat that had horns of
the purest gold, from which little gold bells were suspended, which
gave forth a pleasing sound, whenever the animal moved. They added,
that it ill became so rich a king to lack so costly a treasure. On
hearing their story, the king was greatly excited, and said: “Where is
this goat to be found, and who can procure it for me?” The brothers
answered: “That no one can do, unless it be our brother Pinkel; for
he knows best where the goat is to be found.” The king then felt a
strong desire to possess the goat with the golden horns, and therefore
commanded the youth to appear before him. When Pinkel came, the king
said: “Thy brothers have been telling me of a beautiful goat with horns
of the purest gold, and little bells fastened to the horns, which ring
whenever the animal moves. Now it is my will that thou go and procure
for me this goat. If thou art successful I will make thee lord over a
third part of my kingdom.” The youth having listened to this speech,
promised to execute his lord’s commission, if only fortune would
befriend him. The king then praised his readiness, and the brothers
were glad at heart, believing that Pinkel would not escape this time so
well as the first.
Pinkel now made the necessary preparations and rowed to the island
where the Troll-wife dwelt. When he reached it, evening was already
advanced, and it was dark, so that no one could be aware of his coming,
the golden lantern being no longer there, but shedding its light in
the royal palace. The youth now deliberated with himself how to get
the golden goat; but the task was no easy one; for the animal lay
every night in the crone’s hut. At length it occurred to his mind that
there was one method which might probably prove successful, though,
nevertheless, sufficiently difficult to carry into effect.
At night, when it was time for the crone and her daughter to go to bed,
the girl went as usual to bolt the door. But Pinkel was just outside
on the watch, and had placed a piece of wood behind the door, so that
it would not shut close. The girl stood for a long time trying to lock
it but to no purpose. On perceiving this the crone thought there was
something out of order, and called out, that the door might very well
remain unlocked for the night; as soon as it was daylight they could
ascertain what was wanting. The girl then left the door ajar and laid
herself down to sleep. When the night was a little more advanced, and
the crone and her daughter were snug in deep repose, the youth stole
softly into the hut, and approached the goat where he lay stretched out
on the hearth. Pinkel now stuffed wool into all the golden bells, lest
their sound might betray him; then seizing the goat, he bore it off to
his boat. When he had reached the middle of the lake, he took the wool
out of the goat’s ears, and the animal moved so that the bells rang
aloud. At the sound the crone awoke, ran down to the water, and cried
in an angry tone: “Is that thou, Pinkel?” The youth answered: “Yes,
dear mother, it is.” The crone said: “Hast thou stolen my gold goat?”
The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, I have.” The Troll continued:
“Art thou not a big knave?” Pinkel returned for answer: “Yes, I am so,
dear mother.” Now the beldam began to whine and complain saying: “Ah!
what a simpleton was I for letting thee slip away from me. I well knew
thou wouldst play me some trick. But if thou comest hither ever again,
thou shalt never go hence.”
Pinkel now returned to the king’s court and obtained the government
of a third part of the kingdom, as the king had promised. But when
the brothers heard how the enterprise had succeeded, and also saw the
beautiful lantern and the goat with golden horns, which were regarded
by every one as great wonders, they became still more hostile and
embittered than ever. They could think of nothing but how they might
accomplish his destruction.
They went, therefore, one day again before the king, to whom they gave
a most elaborate description of the Troll-crone’s fur cloak, that shone
like the brightest gold, and was worked with golden threads in every
seam. The brothers said, it was more befitting a queen than a Troll
to possess such a treasure, and added that that alone was wanting to
the king’s good fortune. When the king heard all this he became very
thoughtful, and said: “Where is this cloak to be found, and who can
procure it for me?” The brothers answered: “No one can do that except
our brother Pinkel; for he knows best where the gold cloak is to be
found.” The king was thereupon seized with an ardent longing to possess
the gold cloak, and commanded the youth to be called before him. When
Pinkel came, the king said: “I have long been aware that thou hast an
affection for my young daughter; and thy brothers have been telling me
of a beautiful fur cloak, which shines with the reddest gold in every
seam. It is, therefore, my will that thou go and procure for me this
cloak. If thou art successful, thou shalt be my son-in-law, and after
me shalt inherit the kingdom.” When the youth heard this he was glad
beyond measure, and promised either to win the young maiden, or perish
in the attempt. The king thereupon praised his readiness; but the
brothers were delighted in their false hearts, and trusted that that
enterprise would prove their brother’s destruction.
Pinkel then betook himself to his boat and crossed over to the island
inhabited by the Troll-crone. On the way he anxiously deliberated with
himself how he might get possession of the crone’s gold cloak; but
it appeared to him not very likely that his undertaking would prove
successful, seeing that the Troll always wore the cloak upon her. So
after having concerted divers plans, one more hazardous than another,
it occurred to him, that he would try one method, which might perhaps
succeed, although it was bold and rash.
In pursuance of his scheme he bound a bag under his clothes, and
walked with trembling step and humble demeanour into the beldam’s hut.
On perceiving him, the Troll cast on him a savage glance, and said:
“Pinkel, is that thou?” The youth answered: “Yes, dear mother, it is.”
The crone was overjoyed, and said: “Although thou art come voluntarily
into my power, thou canst not surely hope to escape again from hence,
after having played me so many tricks.” She then took a large knife
and prepared to make an end of poor Pinkel; but the youth, seeing her
design, appeared sorely terrified, and said: “If I must needs die, I
think I might be allowed to choose the manner of my death. I would
rather eat myself to death with milk-porridge, than be killed with a
knife.” The crone thought to herself that the youth had made a bad
choice, and therefore promised to comply with his wish. She then set
a huge pot on the fire, in which she put a large quantity of porridge.
When the mess was ready, she placed it before Pinkel that he might eat,
who for every spoonful of porridge that he put into his mouth, poured
two into the bag that was tied under his clothes. At length the crone
began to wonder how Pinkel could contrive to swallow such a quantity;
but just at the same moment the youth, making a show of being sick to
death, sank down from his seat as if he were dead, and unobserved cut a
hole in the bag, so that the porridge ran over the floor.
[Illustration: They went again before the king]
The crone, thinking that Pinkel had burst with the quantity of porridge
he had eaten, was not a little glad, clapped her hands together, and
ran off to look for her daughter, who was gone to the well. But as the
weather was wet and stormy, she first took off her beautiful fur cloak
and laid it aside in the hut. Before she could have proceeded far, the
youth came to life again, and springing up like lightning, seized on
the golden cloak, and ran off at the top of his speed.
Shortly after, the crone perceived Pinkel as he was rowing in his
little boat. On seeing him alive again, and observing the gold cloak
glittering on the surface of the water, she was angry beyond all
conception, and ran far out on the strand, crying: “Is that thou,
Pinkel?” The youth answered: “Yes, it is I, dear mother.” The crone
said: “Hast thou taken my beautiful gold cloak?” Pinkel responded:
“Yes, dear mother, I have.” The Troll continued: “Art thou not a great
knave?” The youth replied: “Yes, I am so, dear mother.” The old witch
was now almost beside herself, and began to whine and lament, and said:
“Ah! how silly was it of me to let thee slip away. I was well assured
thou wouldst play me many wicked tricks.” They then parted from each
other.
[Illustration: His brothers continued to be helpers in the stable as
long as they lived]
The Troll-wife now returned to her hut, and Pinkel crossed the water,
and arrived safely at the king’s palace; there he delivered the gold
cloak, of which every one said that a more sumptuous garment was never
seen nor heard of. The king honourably kept his word with the youth,
and gave him his young daughter to wife. Pinkel afterwards lived happy
and content to the end of his days; but his brothers were and continued
to be helpers in the stable as long as they lived.
* * * * *
When the Swedish Troll had finished the story of Pinkel’s adventures a
German Fairy took up her position on the stool and said that she would
be very glad to tell a tale only there were so many in the country from
which she had come that she really didn’t know which one they would
like best.
“Can we not have a story about children?” asked Queen Titania.
The German Fairy considered for a moment and then said that she did
know a pretty story about children, a story which many children liked
to hear and one which they called the Sweety-House, because it told how
a little boy and girl when lost in the woods found a house built of
nothing but sweets and cakes, and of the adventures which befel them
afterwards when pursued by a bad wicked fairy who was a disgrace to the
name.
“The Sweety-House, the Sweety-House,” exclaimed Titania clapping her
hands delightedly.
“The _proper_ name of the story,” said the German Fairy, “is
[Illustration: The German Fairy]
[Illustration: On one of the branches sat a little child]