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THE NORWEGIAN FAIRY BOOK
BOOKS IN THE "FAIRY SERIES"
_The English Fairy Book_
_The Welsh Fairy Book_
_The Irish Fairy Book_
_The Scottish Fairy Book_
_The Italian Fairy Book_
_The Hungarian Fairy Book_
_The Indian Fairy Book_
_The Spanish Fairy Book_
_The Danish Fairy Book_
_The Norwegian Fairy Book_
_The Jewish Fairy Book_
_The Swedish Fairy Book_
_The Chinese Fairy Book_
[Illustration: "AN OLD WOMAN CAME LIMPING ALONG, AND ASKED HIM WHAT
HE HAD IN HIS KNAPSACK."
--_Page 17_]
THE NORWEGIAN
FAIRY BOOK
EDITED BY
CLARA STROEBE
TRANSLATED BY
FREDERICK H. MARTENS
[Illustration]
WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR BY
GEORGE W. HOOD
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
_Copyright, 1922, by_
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
_All Rights Reserved_
_Printed in the United States of America_
PREFACE
These Norwegian tales of elemental mountain, forest and sea spirits,
handed down by hinds and huntsmen, woodchoppers and fisherfolk, men who
led a hard and lonely life amid primitive surroundings are, perhaps,
among the most fascinating the Scandinavian countries have to offer. Nor
are they only meant to delight the child, though this they cannot fail
to do. "Grown-ups" also, who take pleasure in a good story, well told,
will enjoy the original "Peer Gynt" legend, as it existed before Ibsen
gave it more symbolic meanings; and that glowing, beautiful picture of
an Avalon of the Northern seas shown in "The Island of Udroest." What
could be more human and moving than the tragic "The Player on the
Jew's-Harp," or more genuinely entertaining than "The King's Hares"?
"The Master-Girl" is a Candida of fairy-land, and the thrill and glamor
of black magic and mystery run through such stories as "The Secret
Church," "The Comrade," and "Lucky Andrew." In "The Honest Four-Shilling
Piece" we have the adventures of a Norse Dick Whittington. "Storm Magic"
is one of the most thrilling sea tales, bar none, ever written, and
every story included in the volume seems to bring with it the breath of
the Norse mountains or the tang of the spindrift on Northern seas. Much
of the charm of the stories lies in the directness and simplicity of
their telling; and this quality, which adds so much to their appeal, the
translator has endeavored to preserve in its integrity. He cannot but
feel that "The Norwegian Fairy Book" has an appeal for one and all,
since it is a book in which the mirror of fairy-tale reflects human
yearnings and aspirations, human loves, ambitions and disillusionments,
in an imaginatively glamored, yet not distorted form. It is his hope and
belief that those who may come to know it will derive as much pleasure
from its reading as it gave him to put it into English.
FREDERICK H. MARTENS.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I PER GYNT 1
II THE ISLE OF UDROeST 9
III THE THREE LEMONS 16
IV THE NEIGHBOR UNDERGROUND 23
V THE SECRET CHURCH 26
VI THE COMRADE 30
VII ASPENCLOG 48
VIII THE TROLL WEDDING 51
IX THE HAT OF THE HULDRES 54
X THE CHILD OF MARY 56
XI STORM MAGIC 62
XII THE FOUR-SHILLING PIECE 69
XIII THE MAGIC APPLES 76
XIV SELF DID IT 81
XV THE MASTER GIRL 83
XVI ANENT THE GIANT WHO DID NOT HAVE HIS HEART
ABOUT HIM 101
XVII THE THREE PRINCESSES IN WHITELAND 110
XVIII TROUBLE AND CARE 118
XIX KARI WOODENCOAT 136
XX OLA STORBAEKKJEN 152
XXI THE CAT WHO COULD EAT SO MUCH 155
XXII EAST OF THE SUN AND WEST OF THE MOON 165
XXIII MURMUR GOOSE-EGG 181
XXIV THE TROLL-WIFE 197
XXV THE KING'S HARES 202
XXVI HELGE-HAL IN THE BLUE HILL 213
XXVII THE LORD OF THE HILL AND JOHN BLESSOM 224
XXVIII THE YOUNG FELLOW AND THE DEVIL 227
XXIX FARTHER SOUTH THAN SOUTH, AND FARTHER NORTH
THAN NORTH, AND IN THE GREAT HILL OF GOLD 229
XXX LUCKY ANDREW 236
XXXI THE PASTOR AND THE SEXTON 244
XXXII THE SKIPPER AND SIR URIAN 247
XXXIII THE YOUTH WHO WAS TO SERVE THREE YEARS
WITHOUT PAY 250
XXXIV THE YOUTH WHO WANTED TO WIN THE DAUGHTER OF
THE MOTHER IN THE CORNER 265
XXXV THE CHRONICLE OF THE PANCAKE 274
XXXVI SORIA-MORIA CASTLE 279
XXXVII THE PLAYER ON THE JEW'S-HARP 293
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"AN OLD WOMAN CAME LIMPING ALONG, AND ASKED
HIM WHAT HE HAD IN HIS KNAPSACK" _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
"AND SO HE SAW THE LOVELY MAIDEN WHO WAS SEATED
AMONG ITS BRANCHES" 58
"THEY AT LAST REACHED THE LAKE" 108
"THERE MURMUR JUMPED FROM ONE MOUNTAIN-TOP TO
ANOTHER" 188
"THE KING RECKONED AND ADDED THEM UP, AND COUNTED
WITH HIS FINGERS" 206
"'HEY THERE!' THE WOMAN WAS AFTER IT WITH THE PAN IN
ONE HAND, AND THE SPOON IN THE OTHER" 274
THE NORWEGIAN FAIRY BOOK
I
PER GYNT
In the old days there lived in Kvam a marksman by the name of Per Gynt.
He was continually in the mountains, where he shot bear and elk, for at
that time there were more forests on the Fjaell, and all sorts of beasts
dwelt in them. Once, late in the fall, when the cattle had long since
been driven down from the mountain pastures, Per Gynt decided to go up
on the Fjaell again. With the exception of three dairy-maids, all the
herd-folk had already left the mountains. But when Per Gynt reached
Hoevringalm, where he intended to stay over-night in a herdsman's hut,
it already was so dark that he could not see his hand before his eyes.
Then the dogs began to bark so violently that he felt quite uneasy. And
suddenly his foot struck something, and when he took hold of it, it was
cold, and large and slippery. Since he felt certain he had not left the
path, he could not imagine what it might be; but he sensed that all was
not in order.
"And who are you?" asked Per Gynt, for he noticed that it moved.
"O, I am the crooked one," was the answer. And now Per Gynt knew as much
as he had before. So he went along its length, "for sooner or later I
will come to the end of it," thought he.
As he went along he again struck against something, and when he felt it,
it was again something cold, and large and slippery.
"And who are you?" asked Per Gynt.
"I am the crooked one," was again the answer.
"Well, whether you be crooked or straight, you will have to let me
pass," said Per Gynt; for he noticed that he was going around in a
circle, and that the crooked one had coiled himself about the herdsman's
cottage. At these words the crooked one moved a little to one side, so
that Per Gynt could get into the cottage. When he entered he found it as
dark inside as it was out; and he stumbled and felt his way along the
walls; for he wanted to lay aside his firelock and his hunting-bag. But
while he was feeling his way about, he once more noticed the something
large, and cold and slippery.
"And who are you now?" cried Per Gynt.
"O, I am the big crooked one," was the answer. And no matter where he
took hold or where he set his foot, he could feel the coils of the
crooked one laid around him.
"This is a poor place to be in," thought Per Gynt, "for this crooked one
is outside and inside; but I will soon put what is wrong to rights." He
took his firelock, went out again, and felt his way along the crooked
one until he came to his head.
"And who are you really and truly?" he asked.
"O, I am the big crooked one of Etnedal," said the monster troll. Then
Per Gynt did not waste any time, but shot three bullets right through
the middle of his head.
"Shoot again!" cried the crooked one. But Per Gynt knew better, for had
he shot another time, the bullet would have rebounded and hit him. When
this had been done, Per Gynt and his dogs took hold of the great troll,
and dragged him out of the hut, so that they might make themselves
comfortable there. And meanwhile the hills about rang with laughter and
jeers. "Per Gynt pulled hard, but the dogs pulled harder!" rang in his
ears.
In the morning Per Gynt went out hunting. When he had made his way
far into the Fjaell, he saw a girl driving sheep and goats across a
mountain-top. But when he reached the top of the mountain, the girl
had vanished, as well as her flock, and all he saw was a great pack
of bears.
"Never yet have I seen bears run together in packs," thought Per Gynt.
But when he came nearer, they all disappeared save one alone. Then a
voice called from a nearby hill:
"Guard your boar, for understand,
Per Gynt is without,
With his firelock in his hand!"
"O, then it is the worse for Per Gynt; but not for my boar, because Per
Gynt did not wash to-day," sounded back from the hill. But Per Gynt spat
on his hands, and washed them thus, and then shot the bear.
The hills rang with echoing laughter:
"You should have guarded your boar better," called one voice.
"I did not think he carried the wash-bowl in his mouth," answered the
other.
Per Gynt skinned the bear, and buried his body among the bowlders; but
the head and skin he took with him. On the way back he met a mountain
fox.
"See, my little lamb, how fat you are!" rang out from one hill. "Just
see how high Per Gynt carries his firelock!" sounded from another, as
Per Gynt shouldered his firelock and shot the fox. Him he also skinned,
and took the skin with him, and when he reached the herdsman's hut, he
nailed the heads, with jaws wide open, against the outer wall. Then he
made a fire and hung a soup kettle over it; but it smoked so terribly he
could hardly keep his eyes open, and therefore had to make a loop-hole.
Suddenly up came a troll, and thrust his nose through the loop-hole; but
his nose was so long that it reached the fireplace.
"Here is my smeller, so take a good look!" said he.
"Here is a taste of the soup that I cook!" said Per Gynt, and he
poured the whole kettleful of soup over his nose. The troll rushed off
lamenting loudly; but from all the heights around came laughter and
derision and calls of:
"Gyri Soupsmeller, Gyri Soupsmeller!"
Thereupon all was quiet for a time; yet before very long the noise and
tumult outside began again. Per Gynt looked out, and saw a wagon drawn
by bears, the great troll was loaded upon it, and off they went with
him up the Fjaell. Suddenly a pail of water was poured down through
the chimney, smothering the fire, and Per Gynt sat in the dark. Then
laughter and jibes came from every corner, and one voice said: "Now Per
Gynt will be no better off than the dairy-maids in the hut at Val!"
Per Gynt once more lit the fire, called his dogs, locked the herdsman's
hut, and went on North, toward the hut at Val, in which there were three
dairy-maids. After he had covered some distance he saw a fire, as though
the whole hut were ablaze, and at the same moment he came across a whole
pack of wolves, of whom he shot some and clubbed the others to death.
When he reached the hut at Val, he found it pitch dark there, and there
was no fire to be seen, far or near. But there were four strangers in
the hut, who were frightening the dairy-maids. They were four mountain
trolls, and their names were: Gust i Vaere, Tron Valfjeldet, Kjoestoel
Aabakken, and Rolf Eldfoerkungen. Gust i Vaere stood at the door, on
guard, and Per Gynt shot at him, but missed, so he ran away. When Per
Gynt entered the room the dairy-maids were well-nigh frightened to
death; but when the trolls saw who had come they began to wail, and
told Eldfoerkungen to make a fire. At the same moment the dogs sprang
upon Kjoestoel Aabakken, and threw him head over heels into the hearth,
so that the ashes and sparks flew about.
"Have you seen my snakes, Per Gynt?" asked Tron Valfjeldet--for that was
what he called the wolves.
"Yes, and now you shall travel the same road your snakes have gone!"
cried Per Gynt, and shot him. Then he made an end of Aabakken with the
butt-end of his firelock; but Eldfoerkungen had fled through the chimney.
After Per Gynt had done this, he accompanied the dairy-maids back to
their village, for they did not venture to stay in the hut any longer.
When Christmas came, Per Gynt once more got under way. He had heard of
a farmstead at Dovre, where so many trolls were accustomed to congregate
on Christmas Eve, that the people who lived there had to flee, and find
places to stay at other farms. This farmstead Per Gynt decided to hunt
up; for he thought he would like to see these trolls. He put on torn
clothing, and took with him a tame bear which belonged to him, together
with an awl, some pitch and some wire. When he had reached the
farmstead, he went into the house and asked for shelter.
"May God aid us!" cried the man. "We cannot shelter you, and have to
leave the house ourselves, because the place is alive with trolls every
Christmas Eve!"
But Per Gynt thought he could manage to clear the house of the trolls.
So they told him to stay, and gave him a pig's skin into the bargain.
Then the bear lay down behind the hearth, Per took out his awl, his
pitch and his wire, and set out to make a single large shoe out of the
pig's skin. And he drew a thick rope through it for a lace, so that he
could lace the whole shoe together, and besides he had two wagon-spokes
for wedges at hand. Suddenly the trolls came along with fiddles and
fiddlers, and some of them danced, and others ate of the Christmas
dinner that stood on the table, and some fried bacon, and others fried
frogs and toads and disgusting things of that kind--the Christmas dinner
they had brought along themselves. In the meantime some of them noticed
the shoe Per Gynt had made. Since it was evidently intended for a large
foot, all the trolls wanted to try it on. When every one of them had
thrust in his foot, Per Gynt laced it, forced in a wedge, and then drew
the lace so taut that every last one of them was caught and held in the
shoe. But now the bear thrust forth his nose, and sniffed the roast.
"Would you like to have some cake, little white cat?" said one of the
trolls, and threw a burning hot, roasted frog into the bear's jaws.
"Thump them, Master Bruin!" cried Per Gynt. And the bear grew so angry
that he rushed on the trolls, raining blows on every side and scratching
them. And Per Gynt hewed into the crowd with his other wagon-spoke as
though he meant to break their skulls. Then the trolls had to make
themselves scarce, but Per Gynt remained, and feasted on the Christmas
fare all of Christmas week, while for many a long year no more was heard
of the trolls.
NOTE
"Per Gynt" (Asbjoernsen, _Norske Huldreeventyr og Folkesagn_,
Christiania, 1859, Part II, p. 77. From the vicinity of the Dover
mountains. The story was told Asbjoernsen by a bird hunter, whom he
accidentally met while hunting reindeer). Like "The Island of
Udroest" which follows it, it is distinctively a Northern tale.
The bold huntsman of Kvam, whose name and weirdly adventurous
experience with the great crooked one of Etnedal, thanks to Ibsen,
have been presented in an altogether different, symbolic form,
makes his appearance here with all the heartfelt spontaneity of
the folk-tale, as it is still recounted, half in pride, half in
dread, in the lonely herdsman's huts of the Dovre country.
II
THE ISLE OF UDROeST
Once upon a time there lived at Vaeroe, not far from Roest, a poor
fisherman, named Isaac. He had nothing but a boat and a couple of goats,
which his wife fed as well as she could with fish leavings, and with the
grass she was able to gather on the surrounding hills; but his whole hut
was full of hungry children. Yet he was always satisfied with what God
sent him. The only thing that worried him was his inability to live at
peace with his neighbor. The latter was a rich man, thought himself
entitled to far more than such a beggarly fellow as Isaac, and wanted
to get him out of the way, in order to take for himself the anchorage
before Isaac's hut.
One day Isaac had put out a few miles to sea to fish, when suddenly a
dark fog fell, and in a flash such a tremendous storm broke, that he had
to throw all his fish overboard in order to lighten ship and save his
life. Even then it was very hard to keep the boat afloat; but he steered
a careful course between and across the mountainous waves, which seemed
ready to swallow him from moment to moment. After he had kept on for
five or six hours in this manner, he thought that he ought to touch
land somewhere. But time went by, and the storm and fog grew worse and
worse. Then he began to realize that either he was steering out to sea,
or that the wind had veered, and at last he made sure the latter was the
case; for he sailed on and on without a sight of land. Suddenly he heard
a hideous cry from the stern of the boat, and felt certain that it was
the _drang_, who was singing his death-song. Then he prayed God to guard
his wife and children, for he thought his last hour had come. As he sat
there and prayed, he made out something black; but when his boat drew
nearer, he noticed that it was only three cormorants, sitting on a piece
of drift-wood and--swish! he had passed them. Thus he sailed for a long
time, and grew so hungry, so thirsty and so weary that he did not know
what to do; for the most part he sat with the rudder in his hand and
slept. But all of a sudden the boat ran up on a beach and stopped. Then
Isaac opened his eyes. The sun broke through the fog, and shone on a
beautiful land. Its hills and mountains were green to their very tops,
fields and meadows lay among their slopes, and he seemed to breathe a
fragrance of flowers and grass sweeter than any he had ever known
before.
"God be praised, now I am safe, for this is Udroest!" said Isaac to
himself. Directly ahead of him lay a field of barley, with ears so
large and heavy that he had never seen their like, and through the
barley-field a narrow path led to a green turf-roofed cottage of clay,
that rose above the field, and on the roof of the cottage grazed a white
goat with gilded horns, and an udder as large as that of the largest
cow. Before the door sat a little man clad in blue, puffing away at a
little pipe. He had a beard so long and so large that it hung far down
upon his breast.
"Welcome to Udroest, Isaac!" said the man.
"Good day to you, father," said Isaac, "and do you know me?"
"It might be that I do," said the man. "I suppose you want to stay here
overnight?"
"That would suit me very well, father," was Isaac's reply.
"The trouble is with my sons, for they cannot bear the smell of a
Christian," answered the man. "Did you meet them?"
"No, I only met three cormorants, who were sitting on a piece of
drift-wood and croaking," was Isaac's reply.
"Well, those were my sons," said the man, and emptied his pipe, "and now
come into the house, for I think you must be hungry and thirsty."
"I'll take that liberty, father," said Isaac.
When the man opened the door, everything within was so beautiful that
Isaac could not get over his admiration. He had never seen anything like
it. The table was covered with the finest dishes, bowls of cream, and
salmon and game, and liver dumplings with syrup, and cheese as well, and
there were whole piles of doughnuts, and there was mead, and everything
else that is good. Isaac ate and drank bravely, and yet his plate was
never empty; and no matter how much he drank, his glass was always
full. The man neither ate much nor said much; but suddenly they heard a
noise and clamor before the house, and the man went out. After a time he
returned with his three sons, and Isaac trembled inwardly when they came
through the door; but their father must have quieted them, for they were
very friendly and amiable, and told Isaac he must use his guest-right,
and sit down and drink with them; for Isaac had risen to leave the
table, saying he had satisfied his hunger. But he gave in to them, and
they drank mead together, and became good friends. And they said that
Isaac must go fishing with them, so that he would have something to take
with him when he went home.
The first time they put out a great storm was raging. One of the
sons sat at the rudder, the second at the bow, and the third in the
middle; and Isaac had to work with the bailing-can until he dripped
perspiration. They sailed as though they were mad. They never reefed a
sail, and when the boat was full of water, they danced on the crests of
the waves, and slid down them so that the water in the stern spurted up
like a fountain. After a time the storm subsided, and they began to
fish. And the sea was so full of fish that they could not even put out
an anchor, since mountains of fish were piled up beneath them. The sons
of Udroest drew up one fish after another. Isaac knew his business; but
he had taken along his own fishing-tackle, and as soon as a fish bit he
let go again, and at last he had caught not a single one. When the boat
was filled, they sailed home again to Udroest, and the sons cleaned the
fish, and laid them on the stands. Meanwhile Isaac had complained to
their father of his poor luck. The man promised that he should do better
next time, and gave him a couple of hooks; and the next time they went
out to fish, Isaac caught just as many as the others, and when they
reached home, he was given three stands of fish as his share.
At length Isaac began to get homesick, and when he was about to leave,
the man made him a present of a new fishing-boat, full of meal, and
tackle and other useful things. Isaac thanked him repeatedly, and the
man invited him to come back when the season opened again, since he
himself was going to take a cargo to Bergen, in the second _stevne_,[1]
and Isaac could go along and sell his fish there himself. Isaac was more
than willing, and asked him what course he should set when he again
wanted to reach Udroest. "All you need do is to follow the cormorant when
he heads for the open sea, then you will be on the right course," said
the man. "Good luck on your way!"
[1] A fleet of ships that set sail together from Nordland
to Bergen to sell fish.
But when Isaac got underway, and looked around, there was no Udroest in
sight; far and wide, all around him, he saw no more than the ocean.
When the time came, Isaac sailed to join the man of Udroest's
fishing-craft. But such a craft he had never seen before. It was two
hails long, so that when the steersman, who was on look-out in the
stern, wanted to call out something to the rower, the latter could not
hear him. So they had stationed another man in the middle of the ship,
close by the mast, who had to relay the steersman's call to the rower,
and even he had to shout as loudly as he could in order to make
himself heard.
Isaac's share was laid down in the forepart of the boat; and he himself
took down the fish from the stands; yet he could not understand how it
was that the stands were continually filled with fresh fish, no matter
how many he took away, and when he sailed away they were still as full
as ever. When he reached Bergen, he sold his fish, and got so much money
for them that he was able to buy a new schooner, completely fitted out,
and with a cargo to boot, as the man of Udroest had advised him. Late in
the evening, when he was about to sail for home, the man came aboard
and told him never to forget those who survived his neighbor, for his
neighbor himself had died; and then he wished Isaac all possible success
and good fortune for his schooner, in advance. "All is well, and all
stands firm that towers in the air," said he, and what he meant was that
there was one aboard whom none could see, but who would support the mast
on his back, if need be.
Since that time fortune was Isaac's friend. And well he knew why this
was so, and never forgot to prepare something good for whoever held the
winter watch, when the schooner was drawn up on land in the fall. And
every Christmas night there was the glow and shimmer of light, the
sound of fiddles and music, of laughter and merriment, and of dancing on
the deserted schooner.
NOTE
"The Island of Udroest" (Asbjoernsen, _Huldreeventyr_, Part I,
p. 259, from Nordland, narrator not specified) is a legendary
paradise, which appears at the moment of extremest peril to the
Norsemen helplessly shipwrecked in the stormy sea. The Norsemen,
whose fields near the boisterous waves yield but a niggardly
return, cannot say too much regarding its lavish fruitfulness and
its abiding peace. Udroest is almost an Isle of the Blest, an
Avalon, to the fisherfolk whose lives are passed in want and
constant danger.
III
THE THREE LEMONS
Once upon a time there were three brothers who had lost their parents,
and since the latter had left their sons nothing upon which to live,
they had to wander out into the world, and seek their fortune. The two
older brothers prepared for the journey as well as they were able; but
the youngest, whom they called "Mike by the Stove," because he was
always sitting behind the stove whittling, they did not want to take
with them. So they set out at early dawn; yet for all their hurrying
Mike by the Stove reached the king's court as soon as they did. When
they got there, they asked to be taken into the king's service. Well,
said the king, he really had no work for them to do; but since they
were so poor, he would see that they were kept busy; there was always
something or other to do in such a big establishment: they could drive
nails into the wall, and when they were through, they could pull them
out again. And when that was done, they could carry wood and water into
the kitchen. Mike by the Stove was quickest at driving his nails into
the wall, and pulling them out again, and he had been quick, too, about
carrying his wood and water. Therefore his brothers grew jealous, and
said he had declared he could obtain the most beautiful princess in
twelve kingdoms for the king--for the king's wife had died and he was
a widower. When the king heard this, he told Mike by the Stove he had
better do as he had said, else he would have him brought to the block,
and his head chopped off.
Mike by the Stove replied that he had neither said nor thought anything
of the kind; but that seeing the king was so severe, he would try it. So
he took a knapsack full of food and set out. But he had only pushed a
little way into the wood before he grew hungry, and thought he would
sample the provisions they had given him at the king's castle. When he
had sat down in all peace and comfort under a pine-tree by the side of
the road, an old woman came limping along, and asked him what he had in
his knapsack. "Meat and bacon, granny," said the youth. "If you are
hungry, come and share with me!" She thanked him, satisfied her hunger,
and then telling him she would do him a favor in turn, limped off into
the wood. When Mike by the Stove had eaten his fill, he slung his
knapsack across his shoulder once more, and went his way; but he had
only gone a short distance before he found a whistle. That would be
fine, thought he, to have a whistle, and be able to whistle himself a
tune while he traveled, and before long he really succeeded in making
it sound. That very moment the wood was alive with dwarfs, all of them
asking with one voice: "What are my lord's commands? What are my lord's
commands?" Mike by the Stove said he did not know he was their lord;
but if he had any command to give, he would ask them to bring him the
fairest princess in twelve kingdoms. That would be easy enough, said the
dwarfs; they knew exactly who she was, and they could show him the way;
then he himself could go and fetch her, since the dwarfs were powerless
to touch her. They showed him the way, and he reached his goal quickly
and without trouble, for no one interfered with him. It was a troll's
castle, and in it were three beautiful princesses; but when Mike by the
Stove stepped in, they acted as though they had lost their wits, ran
around like frightened lambs, and finally turned into three lemons that
lay on the window-ledge. Mike by the Stove was in despair, and very
unhappy because he did not know what to do. But after he had reflected
a while, he took the three lemons, and put them in his pocket; because,
thought he, he might be glad he had done so should he grow thirsty
during his journey, for he had heard that lemons were sour.
After he had traveled a way, he grew very warm and thirsty. There was no
water to be found, and he did not know how he was to refresh himself.
Then the lemons occurred to him, and he took one and bit into it. But in
it sat a princess, visible up to her arms, and cried: "Water, water!"
If she could not have some water, said she, she must die. The youth ran
about everywhere like mad, looking for water; but there was no water
there, and none to be found, and when he returned she was dead.
After he had gone on again a while, he grew still more thirsty, and
since he found nothing with which to refresh himself, he took another
lemon and bit into it. And another princess looked out, up to her
shoulders, and she was even more beautiful than the first. She cried for
water, and said that if she could not have some water she must die on
the spot. Mike by the Stove ran about and looked under stones and moss;
but he found no water, so this princess also died.
Mike by the Stove thought that things were going from bad to worse, and
this was the truth, since the further he went the warmer it grew. The
part of the country in which he was traveling was so parched and dried
that not a drop of water was to be found, and he was half-dead with
thirst. For a long time he hesitated before biting into the last lemon;
but at last there was nothing else left to do. When he had bitten
into it, a princess looked out: she was the most beautiful in twelve
kingdoms, and she cried that if she could have no water, she must die on
the spot. Mike by the Stove ran about and looked for water, and this
time he met the king's miller, who showed him the way to the mill-pond.
When he had come with her to the mill-pond, and had given her water, she
came completely out of the lemon. But she had nothing to wear, and Mike
by the Stove had to give her his smock. She put it on, and hid in a
tree; while he was to go to the castle and bring her clothes, and tell
the king he had found her, and how it had all happened.
Meanwhile the cook had come down to the pond to fetch water. When she
saw the lovely face that was reflected in the pond, she thought it was
her own, and was so pleased that she began to dance and jump around,
because she had grown so beautiful.
"Let the devil fetch the water, I'm far too handsome to bother with it!"
said she, and threw away the water-pail. And then she suddenly noticed
that the face in the water was that of the princess who sat in the tree.
This made her so angry that she pulled her down from the tree, and threw
her into the pond. Then she herself put on Mike by the Stove's smock,
and climbed into the tree. When the king arrived, and saw the swart,
homely kitchen-maid, he grew red and white in turn; but when he heard
the people say she was the greatest beauty in twelve kingdoms, he had to
believe, willy-nilly, that there was something in it, and he did not
want to be unjust to Mike by the Stove, who had taken so much trouble to
find her. She might grow more beautiful in time, thought he, if she were
adorned with jewels, and dressed in fine clothes, and so he took her
home with him. Then they sent for wig-makers and seamstresses, and she
was adorned and dressed like a princess; but for all their washing and
bedizening, she remained swart and homely. After a while, when the
kitchen-maid had to go to the pond to fetch water, she caught a great
silver fish in her pail. She carried it up and showed it to the king,
who thought it was a beauty; but the homely princess declared it to be
the work of witches, and that they were to burn it, for she had noticed
at once what it was. So the following morning the fish was burned, and
they found a lump of silver in the ashes. Then the cook went up and
told the king, and he thought it very strange; but the princess said it
was witchcraft pure and simple, and that they were to bury the silver
under the manure-pile. The king did not want to, but she gave him no
peace until he consented, and finally said they were to do so. But on
the following day a beautiful linden-tree stood where they had buried
the lump of silver, and the leaves of the linden-tree glistened like
silver, too. When they told the king he thought it remarkable; but the
princess said it was no more nor less than witchcraft, and that the
linden-tree must be cut down. This the king did not wish done at all;
but the princess tormented him so that finally he yielded in this as
well. When the maids went out and brought wood for the fire from the
linden-tree, it was pure silver. "We need not tell the king and the
princess anything about it," said one of them, "for they would only burn
it up and melt it down. Let us keep it in the wardrobe instead. It might
be very useful to us some day, if some one comes along, and we want to
marry." They were all of the same mind, but when they had carried the
wood a while, it grew terribly heavy. And when they looked to see why
this was, the sticks of wood had turned into a little child, and before
long she had become the most beautiful princess imaginable. The maids
saw that there was some hocus-pocus about it, gave her clothes, ran off
to fetch the youth who had been sent to find the most beautiful princess
in twelve kingdoms, and told him their story. And when Mike by the
Stove arrived, the princess explained to him how everything had
happened, that the cook had thrown her into the pond, and that she had
been the silver fish, the lump of silver, and the linden-tree, and the
sticks of wood, and that she was the true princess. It was hard to get
at the king, for the swart, homely cook was with him early and late; but
at last they decided to tell him that a declaration of war had come
from a neighboring monarch, and so they got him out. When he saw the
beautiful princess, he fell so deeply in love with her that he wanted to
marry her out of hand, and when he heard how badly the swart, homely
cook had treated her, the latter was promptly punished. Then they held
a wedding that was heard of and talked about in twelve kingdoms.
NOTE
The story of "The Three Lemons" is not a native Scandinavian
growth, but of foreign extraction (Asbjoernsen, _Norske
Folkeeventyr, Ny Samling_, Christiania, 1871, p. 22, No. 66), and
is a tale very popular in the Orient. Yet Asbjoernsen heard it from
a plain woman in Christiania, which would prove that it had become
naturalized in the North.
IV
THE NEIGHBOR UNDERGROUND
Once upon a time there was a peasant who lived in Telemarken, and had a
big farm; yet he had nothing but bad luck with his cattle, and at last
lost his house and holding. He had scarcely anything left, and with the
little he had, he bought a bit of land that lay off to one side, far
away from the city, in the wildwood and the wilderness. One day, as he
was passing through his farm-yard, he met a man.
"Good-day, neighbor!" said the man.
"Good-day," said the peasant, "I thought I was all alone here. Are you
a neighbor of mine?"
"You can see my homestead over yonder," said the man. "It is not far
from your own." And there lay a farm-holding such as he had never before
seen, handsome and prosperous, and in fine condition. Then he knew very
well that this must be one of the underground people; yet he had no
fear, but invited his neighbor in to drink a glass with him, and the
neighbor seemed to enjoy it.
"Listen," said the neighbor, "there is one thing you must do for me as
a favor."
"First let me know what it is," said the peasant.
"You must shift your cow-stable, because it is in my way," was the
answer he gave the peasant.
"No, I'll not do that," said the peasant. "I put it up only this summer,
and the winter is coming on. What am I to do with my cattle then?"
"Well, do as you choose; but if you do not tear it down, you will live
to regret it," said his neighbor. And with that he went his way.
The peasant was surprised at this, and did not know what to do. It
seemed quite foolish to him to start in to tear down his stable when
the long winter night was approaching, and besides, he could not count
on help.
One day as he was standing in his stable, he sank through the ground.
Down below, in the place to which he had come, everything was
unspeakably handsome. There was nothing which was not of gold or of
silver. Then the man who had called himself his neighbor came along, and
bade him sit down. After a time food was brought in on a silver platter,
and mead in a silver jug, and the neighbor invited him to draw up to
the table and eat. The peasant did not dare refuse, and sat down at
the table; but just as he was about to dip his spoon into the dish,
something fell down into his food from above, so that he lost his
appetite. "Yes, yes," said the man, "now you can see why we don't like
your stable. We can never eat in peace, for as soon as we sit down to a
meal, dirt and straw fall down, and no matter how hungry we may be, we
lose our appetites and cannot eat. But if you will do me the favor to
set up your stable elsewhere, you shall never go short of pasture nor
good crops, no matter how old you may grow to be. But if you won't, you
shall know naught but lean years all your life long."
When the peasant heard that, he went right to work pulling down his
stable, to put it up again in another place. Yet he could not have
worked alone, for at night, when all slept, the building of the new
stable went forward just as it did by day, and well he knew his neighbor
was helping him.
Nor did he regret it later, for he had enough of feed and corn, and his
cattle waxed fat. Once there was a year of scarcity, and feed was so
short that he was thinking of selling or slaughtering half his herd. But
one morning, when the milk-maid went into the stable, the dog was gone,
and with him all the cows and the calves. She began to cry and told the
peasant. But he thought to himself, that it was probably his neighbor's
doings, who had taken the cattle to pasture. And sure enough, so it was;
for toward spring, when the woods grew green, he saw the dog come along,
barking and leaping, by the edge of the forest, and after him followed
all the cows and calves, and the whole herd was so fat it was a pleasure
to look at it.
NOTE
"The Neighbor Underground" (Idem, p. 149, from Halland, told
Asbjoernsen by a Hallander whom he met at Bjoernsjo, fishing) will
not surprise the reader who knows the Danish tale of the "Ale of
the Trolls." Now and again the underground folk and trolls show
themselves to be kind and grateful beings, when their wishes are
granted, and when they are not annoyed by obtrusive curiosity.
V
THE SECRET CHURCH
Once the schoolmaster of Etnedal was staying in the mountains to fish.
He was very fond of reading, and so he always carried one book or
another along with him, with which he could lie down, and which he
read on holidays, or when the weather forced him to stay in the little
fishing-hut. One Sunday morning, as he was lying there reading, it
seemed as though he could hear church bells; sometimes they sounded
faintly, as though from a great distance; at other times the sound
was clear, as though carried by the wind. He listened long and with
surprise; and did not trust his ears--for he knew that it was impossible
to hear the bells of the parish church so far out among the hills--yet
suddenly they sounded quite clearly on his ear. So he laid aside his
book, stood up and went out. The sun was shining, the weather was fine,
and one group of churchgoers after another passed him in their Sunday
clothes, their hymn-books in their hands. A little further on in the
forest, where he had never before seen anything but trees and brush,
stood an old wooden church. After a time the priest came by, and he was
so old and decrepit that his wife and daughter led him. And when they
came to the spot where the schoolmaster was standing, they stopped and
invited him to come to church and hear mass. The schoolmaster thought
for a moment; but since it occurred to him that it might be amusing to
see how these people worshiped God, he said he would go along, if he did
not thereby suffer harm. No, no harm should come to him, said they, but
rather a blessing. In the church all went forward in a quiet and orderly
manner, there were neither dogs nor crying children to disturb the
service, and the singing was good--but he could not make out the words.
When the priest had been led to the pulpit he delivered what seemed to
the listening schoolmaster a really fine and edifying sermon--but one,
it appeared to him, of quite a peculiar trend of thought, which he was
not always able to follow. Nor did the "Our Father in heaven ..." sound
just right, and the "Deliver us from evil ..." he did not hear at all.
Nor was the name of Jesus uttered; and at the close no blessing was
spoken.
When mass had been said, the schoolmaster was invited to the parsonage.
He gave the same answer he had already returned, that he would be glad
to go if he suffered no harm thereby. And as before, they assured him
he would not lose; but rather gain thereby. So he went with them to the
parsonage, just such an attractive and well-built parsonage like most in
the neighborhood. It had a garden with flowers and apple-trees, with a
neat lattice fence around it. They invited him to dinner, and the dinner
was well cooked and carefully prepared. As before, he said that he would
gladly accept their invitation, if he came to no harm thereby, and was
given the same reply. So he ate with them, and said later that he had
noticed no difference between this food and the Christian dinner he had
received when, once or twice, he had been asked to dinner by the priest
of the village church. When he had drunk his coffee, the wife and
daughter drew him aside into another room, and the wife complained that
her husband had grown so old and decrepit that he could not keep up much
longer. Then she began to say that the schoolmaster was such a strong
and able man, and finally, that she and her daughter would like to
have him for priest, and whether he would not stay and succeed the old
father. The schoolmaster objected that he was no scholar. But they
insisted that he had more learning than was needed in their case, for
they never had any visits from the bishop, nor did the dean ever hold a
chapter, for of all such things they knew nothing. When the schoolmaster
heard that, he said that even though he had the necessary scholarship,
he doubted very much that he had the right vocation, and since this was
a most important matter for him and for them, it would be unwise to act
too hurriedly, so he would ask for a year to think it over. When he had
said that, he found himself standing by a pond in the wood, and could
see neither church nor parsonage. So he thought the matter was at an
end. But a year later, just as the term he had set was up, he was
working on a house, for during the school vacation he busied himself
either with fishing or carpentering. He was just straddling a wall when
he saw the pastor's daughter, the one whom he had seen in the mountains,
coming straight toward him. She asked him if he had thought over the
matter. "Yes," said he, "I have thought it over, but I cannot; since I
cannot answer for it before God and my own conscience." That very moment
the pastor's daughter from underground vanished; but immediately after
he cut himself in the knee with the ax in such wise that he remained a
cripple for life.
NOTE
"The Secret Church" (Asbjoernsen, _Huldreeventyr_, I, 217, from
Valders, told by a pastor), impresses one with its weirdness,
in contrast to the preceding tale of friendly neighborly
understanding with the underground folk. In Norway stories are
still told of these churches in the wilderness, and of the chiming
of their bells, which are supposed to be of evil omen to those who
hear them. The idea of the church of ice, in Ibsen's "Brand," may
have its root in such folk-tale.
VI
THE COMRADE
Once upon a time there was a peasant boy, who dreamed that he would get
a princess, from far, far away, and that she was as white as milk, and
as red as blood, and so rich that her riches had no end. When he woke,
it seemed to him as though she were still standing before him, and she
was so beautiful and winning that he could not go on living without her.
So he sold all that he had, and went forth to look for her. He wandered
far, and at last, in the winter-time, came into a land where the roads
all ran in straight lines, and made no turns. After he had wandered
straight ahead for full three months, he came to a city. And there a
great block of ice lay before the church door, and in the middle of it
was a corpse, and the whole congregation spat at it as the people passed
by. This surprised the youth, and when the pastor came out of the
church, he asked him what it meant. "He was a great evil-doer," replied
the pastor, "who has been executed because of his misdeeds, and has been
exposed here in shame and derision." "But what did he do?" asked the
youth.
"During his mortal life he was a wine-dealer," answered the pastor,
"and he watered the wine he sold."
This did not strike the youth as being such a terrible crime. "Even if
he had to pay for it with his life," said he, "one might now grant him a
Christian burial, and let him rest in peace." But the pastor said that
this could not be done at all; for people would be needed to break him
out of the ice; and money would be needed to buy a grave for him from
the church; and the gravedigger would want to be paid for his trouble;
and the sexton for tolling the bells; and the cantor for singing; and
the pastor himself for the funeral sermon.
"Do you think there is any one who would pay all that money for such an
arrant sinner's sake?" inquired the pastor.
"Yes," said the youth. If he could manage to have him buried, he would
be willing to pay for the wake out of his own slender purse.
At first the pastor would hear nothing of it; but when the youth
returned with two men, and asked him in their presence whether he
refused the dead man Christian burial, he ventured no further
objections.
So they released the wine-dealer from his block of ice, and laid him in
consecrated ground. The bells tolled, and there was singing, and the
pastor threw earth on the coffin, and they had a wake at which tears and
laughter alternated. But when the youth had paid for the wake, he had
but a few shillings left in his pocket. Then he once more set out on
his way; but had not gone far before a man came up behind him, and
asked him whether he did not find it tiresome to wander along all alone.
"No," said the youth, he always had something to think about. The man
asked whether he did not need a servant.
"No," said the youth, "I am used to serving myself, so I have no need of
a servant; and no matter how much I might wish for one, I still would
have to do without, since I have no money for his keep and pay."
"Yet you need a servant, as I know better than you do," said the man,
"and you need one upon whom you can rely in life and death. But if you
do not want me for a servant, then let me be your comrade. I promise
that you will not lose thereby, and I will not cost you a shilling. I
travel at my own expense, nor need you be put to trouble as regards my
food and clothing."
Under these circumstances the youth was glad to have him for a comrade,
and they resumed their journey, the man as a rule going in advance and
pointing out the way.
After they had wandered long through various lands, over hills and over
heaths, they suddenly stood before a wall of rock. The comrade knocked,
and begged to be let in. Then the rock opened before them, and after
they had gone quite a way into the interior of the hill, a witch came to
meet them and offered them a chair. "Be so good as to sit down, for you
must be weary!" said she.
"Sit down yourself!" answered the man. Then she had to sit down and
remain seated, for the chair had power to hold fast all that approached
it. In the meantime they wandered about in the hill, and the comrade
kept looking around until he saw a sword that hung above the door. This
he wanted to have, and he promised the witch that he would release her
from her chair if she would let him have the sword.
"No," she cried, "ask what you will. You can have anything else, but not
that, for that is my Three-Sisters Sword!" (There were three sisters to
whom the sword belonged in common.) "Then you may sit where you are till
the world's end!" said the man. And when she heard that she promised to
let him have the sword, if he would release her.
So he took the sword, and went away with it; but he left her sitting
there, after all. When they had wandered far, over stony wastes and
desolate heaths, they again came to a wall of rock. There the comrade
again knocked, and begged to be let in. Just as before, the rock opened,
and when they had gone far into the hill, a witch came to meet them with
a chair and bade them be seated, "for you must be tired," said she.