The Green Fairy Book
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Andrew Lang, Ed. >> The Green Fairy Book
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The sun rose and she still slept on and on, although it was nearly
noon. Now, it happened that the king to whom this wood belonged
was hunting in it. When his dogs came to the tree, they sniffed,
and ran round and round it, barking. The King said to the
huntsmen, 'See what sort of a wild beast is in there.' The
huntsmen went in, and then came back and said, 'In the hollow tree
there lies a wonderful animal that we don't know, and we have
never seen one like it; its skin is made of a thousand pieces of
fur; but it is lying down asleep.' The King said, 'See if you can
catch it alive, and then fasten it to the cart, and we will take
it with us.' When the huntsmen seized the maiden, she awoke and
was frightened, and cried out to them, 'I am a poor child,
forsaken by father and mother; take pity on me, and let me go with
you.' Then they said to her, 'Many-furred Creature, you can work
in the kitchen; come with us and sweep the ashes together.' So
they put her in the cart and they went back to the palace. There
they showed her a tiny room under the stairs, where no daylight
came, and said to her, 'Many-furred Creature, you can live and
sleep here.' Then she was sent into the kitchen, where she carried
wood and water, poked the fire, washed vegetables, plucked fowls,
swept up the ashes, and did all the dirty work.
So the Many-furred Creature lived for a long time in great
poverty. Ah, beautiful King's daughter, what is going to befall
you now?
It happened once when a great feast was being held in the palace,
that she said to the cook, 'Can I go upstairs for a little bit and
look on? I will stand outside the doors.' The cook replied, 'Yes,
you can go up, but in half-an-hour you must be back here to sweep
up the ashes.' Then she took her little oil-lamp, and went into
her little room, drew off her fur cloak, and washed off the soot
from her face and hands, so that her beauty shone forth, and it
was as if one sunbeam after another were coming out of a black
cloud. Then she opened the nut, and took out the dress as golden
as the sun. And when she had done this, she went up to the feast,
and everyone stepped out of her way, for nobody knew her, and they
thought she must be a King's daughter. But the King came towards
her and gave her his hand, and danced with her, thinking to
himself, 'My eyes have never beheld anyone so fair!' When the
dance was ended, she curtseyed to him, and when the King looked
round she had disappeared, no one knew whither. The guards who
were standing before the palace were called and questioned, but no
one had seen her.
She had run to her little room and had quickly taken off her
dress, made her face and hands black, put on the fur cloak, and
was once more the Many-furred Creature. When she came into the
kitchen and was setting about her work of sweeping the ashes
together, the cook said to her, 'Let that wait till to-morrow, and
just cook the King's soup for me; I want to have a little peep at
the company upstairs; but be sure that you do not let a hair fall
into it, otherwise you will get nothing to eat in future!' So the
cook went away, and the Many-furred Creature cooked the soup for
the King. She made a bread-soup as well as she possibly could, and
when it was done, she fetched her gold ring from her little room,
and laid it in the tureen in which the soup was to be served up.
When the dance was ended, the King had his soup brought to him and
ate it, and it was so good that he thought he had never tasted
such soup in his life. But when he came to the bottom of the dish
he saw a gold ring lying there, and he could not imagine how it
got in. Then he commanded the cook to be brought before him. The
cook was terrified when he heard the command, and said to the
Many-furred Creature, 'You must have let a hair fall into the
soup, and if you have you deserve a good beating!' When he came
before the King, the King asked who had cooked the soup. The cook
answered, 'I cooked it.' But the King said, 'That's not true, for
it was quite different and much better soup than you have ever
cooked.' Then the cook said, 'I must confess; _I_ did not
cook the soup; the Many-furred Creature did.' 'Let her be brought
before me,' said the King. When the Many-furred Creature came, the
King asked her who she was. 'I am a poor child without father or
mother.' Then he asked her, 'What do you do in my palace?' 'I am
of no use except to have boots thrown at my head.' 'How did you
get the ring which was in the soup?' he asked. 'I know nothing at
all about the ring,' she answered. So the King could find out
nothing, and was obliged to send her away.
After a time there was another feast, and the Many-furred Creature
begged the cook as at the last one to let her go and look on. He
answered, 'Yes, but come back again in half-an-hour and cook the
King the bread-soup that he likes so much.' So she ran away to her
little room, washed herself quickly, took out of the nut the dress
as silver as the moon and put it on. Then she went upstairs
looking just like a King's daughter, and the King came towards
her, delighted to see her again, and as the dance had just begun,
they danced together. But when the dance was ended, she
disappeared again so quickly that the King could not see which way
she went. She ran to her little room and changed herself once more
into the Many-furred Creature, and went into the kitchen to cook
the bread-soup. When the cook was upstairs, she fetched the golden
spinning-wheel and put it in the dish so that the soup was poured
over it. It was brought to the King, who ate it, and liked it as
much as the last time. He had the cook sent to him, and again he
had to confess that the Many-furred Creature had cooked the soup.
Then the Many-furred Creature came before the King, but she said
again that she was of no use except to have boots thrown at her
head, and that she knew nothing at all of the golden spinning-
wheel.
When the King had a feast for the third time, things did not turn
out quite the same as at the other two. The cook said, 'You must
be a witch, Many-furred Creature, for you always put something in
the soup, so that it is much better and tastes nicer to the King
than any that I cook.' But because she begged hard, he let her go
up for the usual time. Now she put on the dress as shining as the
stars, and stepped into the hall in it.
The King danced again with the beautiful maiden, and thought she
had never looked so beautiful. And while he was dancing, he put a
gold ring on her finger without her seeing it, and he commanded
that the dance should last longer than usual. When it was finished
he wanted to keep her hands in his, but she broke from him, and
sprang so quickly away among the people that she vanished from his
sight. She ran as fast as she could to her little room under the
stairs, but because she had stayed too long beyond the half-hour,
she could not stop to take off the beautiful dress, but only threw
the fur cloak over it, and in her haste she did not make herself
quite black with the soot, one finger remaining white. The Many-
furred Creature now ran into the kitchen, cooked the King's bread-
soup, and when the cook had gone, she laid the gold reel in the
dish. When the King found the reel at the bottom, he had the Many-
furred Creature brought to him, and then he saw the white finger,
and the ring which he had put on her hand in the dance. Then he
took her hand and held her tightly, and as she was trying to get
away, she undid the fur-cloak a little bit and the star-dress
shone out. The King seized the cloak and tore it off her. Her
golden hair came down, and she stood there in her full splendour,
and could not hide herself away any more. And when the soot and
ashes had been washed from her face, she looked more beautiful
than anyone in the world. But the King said, 'You are my dear
bride, and we will never be separated from one another.' So the
wedding was celebrated and they lived happily ever after.
Grimm.
THE TWELVE HUNTSMEN
Once upon a time there was a King's son who was engaged to a
Princess whom he dearly loved. One day as he sat by her side
feeling very happy, he received news that his father was lying at
the point of death, and desired to see him before his end. So he
said to his love: 'Alas! I must go off and leave you, but take
this ring and wear it as a remembrance of me, and when I am King I
will return and fetch you home.'
Then he rode off, and when he reached his father he found him
mortally ill and very near death.
The King said: 'Dearest son, I have desired to see you again
before my end. Promise me, I beg of you, that you will marry
according to my wishes'; and he then named the daughter of a
neighbouring King who he was anxious should be his son's wife. The
Prince was so overwhelmed with grief that he could think of
nothing but his father, and exclaimed: 'Yes, yes, dear father,
whatever you desire shall be done.' Thereupon the King closed his
eyes and died.
After the Prince had been proclaimed King, and the usual time of
mourning had elapsed, he felt that he must keep the promise he had
made to his father, so he sent to ask for the hand of the King's
daughter, which was granted to him at once.
Now, his first love heard of this, and the thought of her lover's
desertion grieved her so sadly that she pined away and nearly
died. Her father said to her: 'My dearest child, why are you so
unhappy? If there is anything you wish for, say so, and you shall
have it.'
His daughter reflected for a moment, and then said: 'Dear father,
I wish for eleven girls as nearly as possible of the same height,
age, and appearance as myself.'
Said the King: 'If the thing is possible your wish shall be
fulfilled'; and he had his kingdom searched till he found eleven
maidens of the same height, size, and appearance as his daughter.
Then the Princess desired twelve complete huntsmen's suits to be
made, all exactly alike, and the eleven maidens had to dress
themselves in eleven of the suits, while she herself put on the
twelfth. After this she took leave of her father, and rode off
with her girls to the court of her former lover.
Here she enquired whether the King did not want some huntsmen, and
if he would not take them all into his service. The King saw her
but did not recognize her, and as he thought them very good-
looking young people, he said, 'Yes, he would gladly engage them
all.' So they became the twelve royal huntsmen.
Now, the King had a most remarkable Lion, for it knew every hidden
or secret thing.
One evening the Lion said to the King: 'So you think you have got
twelve huntsmen, do you?'
'Yes, certainly,' said the King, 'they _are_ twelve
huntsmen.'
'There you are mistaken,' said the Lion; 'they are twelve
maidens.'
'That cannot possibly be,' replied the King; 'how do you mean to
prove that?'
'Just have a number of peas strewed over the floor of your ante-
chamber,' said the Lion, 'and you will soon see. Men have a
strong, firm tread, so that if they happen to walk over peas not
one will stir, but girls trip, and slip, and slide, so that the
peas roll all about.'
The King was pleased with the Lion's advice, and ordered the peas
to be strewn in his ante-room.
Fortunately one of the King's servants had become very partial to
the young huntsmen, and hearing of the trial they were to be put
to, he went to them and said: 'The Lion wants to persuade the King
that you are only girls'; and then told them all the plot.
The King's daughter thanked him for the hint, and after he was
gone she said to her maidens: 'Now make every effort to tread
firmly on the peas.'
Next morning, when the King sent for his twelve huntsmen, and they
passed through the ante-room which was plentifully strewn with
peas, they trod so firmly and walked with such a steady, strong
step that not a single pea rolled away or even so much as stirred.
After they were gone the King said to the Lion: 'There now--you
have been telling lies--you see yourself they walk like men.'
'Because they knew they were being put to the test,' answered the
Lion; 'and so they made an effort; but just have a dozen spinning-
wheels placed in the ante-room. When they pass through you'll see
how pleased they will be, quite unlike any man.'
The King was pleased with the advice, and desired twelve spinning-
wheels to be placed in his ante-chamber.
But the good-natured servant went to the huntsmen and told them
all about this fresh plot. Then, as soon as the King's daughter
was alone with her maidens, she exclaimed: 'Now, pray make a great
effort and don't even _look_ at those spinning-wheels.'
When the King sent for his twelve huntsmen next morning they
walked through the ante-room without even casting a glance at the
spinning-wheels.
Then the King said once more to the Lion: 'You have deceived me
again; they _are_ men, for they never once looked at the
spinning-wheels.'
The Lion replied: 'They knew they were being tried, and they did
violence to their feelings.' But the King declined to believe in
the Lion any longer.
So the twelve huntsmen continued to follow the King, and he grew
daily fonder of them. One day whilst they were all out hunting it
so happened that news was brought that the King's intended bride
was on her way and might soon be expected. When the true bride
heard of this she felt as though a knife had pierced her heart,
and she fell fainting to the ground. The King, fearing something
had happened to his dear huntsman, ran up to help, and began
drawing off his gloves. Then he saw the ring which he had given to
his first love, and as he gazed into her face he knew her again,
and his heart was so touched that he kissed her, and as she opened
her eyes, he cried: 'I am thine and thou art mine, and no power on
earth can alter that.'
To the other Princess he despatched a messenger to beg her to
return to her own kingdom with all speed. 'For,' said he, 'I have
got a wife, and he who finds an old key again does not require a
new one.'
Thereupon the wedding was celebrated with great pomp, and the Lion
was restored to the royal favour, for after all he had told the
truth.
Grimm.
SPINDLE, SHUTTLE, AND NEEDLE
Once upon a time there lived a girl who lost her father and mother
when she was quite a tiny child. Her godmother lived all alone in
a little cottage at the far end of the village, and there she
earned her living by spinning, weaving, and sewing. The old woman
took the little orphan home with her and brought her up in good,
pious, industrious habits.
When the girl was fifteen years old, her godmother fell ill, and,
calling the child to her bedside, she said: 'My dear daughter, I
feel that my end is near. I leave you my cottage, which will, at
least, shelter you, and also my spindle, my weaver's shuttle, and
my needle, with which to earn your bread.'
Then she laid her hands on the girl's head, blessed her, and
added: 'Mind and be good, and then all will go well with you.'
With that she closed her eyes for the last time, and when she was
carried to her grave the girl walked behind her coffin weeping
bitterly, and paid her all the last honours.
After this the girl lived all alone in the little cottage. She
worked hard, spinning, weaving, and sewing, and her old
godmother's blessing seemed to prosper all she did. The flax
seemed to spread and increase; and when she wove a carpet or a
piece of linen, or made a shirt, she was sure to find a customer
who paid her well, so that not only did she feel no want herself,
but she was able to help those who did.
Now, it happened that about this time the King's son was making a
tour through the entire country to look out for a bride. He could
not marry a poor woman, and he did not wish for a rich one.
'She shall be my wife,' said he, 'who is at once the poorest and
the richest.'
When he reached the village where the girl lived, he inquired who
was the richest and who the poorest woman in it. The richest was
named first; the poorest, he was told, was a young girl who lived
alone in a little cottage at the far end of the village.
The rich girl sat at her door dressed out in all her best clothes,
and when the King's son came near she got up, went to meet him,
and made him a low curtsey. He looked well at her, said nothing,
but rode on further.
When he reached the poor girl's house he did not find her at her
door, for she was at work in her room. The Prince reined in his
horse, looked in at the window through which the sun was shining
brightly, and saw the girl sitting at her wheel busily spinning
away.
She looked up, and when she saw the King's son gazing in at her,
she blushed red all over, cast down her eyes and span on. Whether
the thread was quite as even as usual I really cannot say, but she
went on spinning till the King's son had ridden off. Then she
stepped to the window and opened the lattice, saying, 'The room is
so hot,' but she looked after him as long as she could see the
white plumes in his hat.
Then she sat down to her work once more and span on, and as she
did so an old saying which, she had often heard her godmother
repeat whilst at work, came into her head, and she began to sing:
'Spindle, spindle, go and see, If my love will come to me.'
Lo, and behold! the spindle leapt from her hand and rushed out of
the room, and when she had sufficiently recovered from her
surprise to look after it she saw it dancing merrily through the
fields, dragging a long golden thread after it, and soon it was
lost to sight.
The girl, having lost her spindle, took up the shuttle and,
seating herself at her loom, began to weave. Meantime the spindle
danced on and on, and just as it had come to the end of the golden
thread, it reached the King's son.
'What do I see?' he cried; 'this spindle seems to wish to point
out the way to me.' So he turned his horses head and rode back
beside the golden thread.
Meantime the girl sat weaving, and sang:
'Shuttle, weave both web and woof, Bring my love beneath my roof.'
The shuttle instantly escaped from her hand, and with one bound
was out at the door. On the threshold it began weaving the
loveliest carpet that was ever seen. Roses and lilies bloomed on
both sides, and in the centre a thicket seemed to grow with
rabbits and hares running through it, stags and fawns peeping
through the branches, whilst on the topmost boughs sat birds of
brilliant plumage and so life-like one almost expected to hear
them sing. The shuttle flew from side to side and the carpet
seemed almost to grow of itself.
As the shuttle had run away the girl sat down to sew. She took her
needle and sang:
'Needle, needle, stitch away, Make my chamber bright and gay,'
and the needle promptly slipped from her fingers and flew about
the room like lightning. You would have thought invisible spirits
were at work, for in next to no time the table and benches were
covered with green cloth, the chairs with velvet, and elegant silk
curtains hung before the windows. The needle had barely put in its
last stitch when the girl, glancing at the window, spied the white
plumed hat of the King's son who was being led back by the spindle
with the golden thread.
He dismounted and walked over the carpet into the house, and when
he entered the room there stood the girl blushing like any rose.
'You are the poorest and yet the richest,' said he: 'come with me,
you shall be my bride.'
She said nothing, but she held out her hand. Then he kissed her,
and led her out, lifted her on his horse and took her to his royal
palace, where the wedding was celebrated with great rejoicings.
The spindle, the shuttle, and the needle were carefully placed in
the treasury, and were always held in the very highest honour.
Grimm.
THE CRYSTAL COFFIN
Now let no one say that a poor tailor can't get on in the world,
and, indeed, even attain to very high honour. Nothing is required
but to set the right way to work, but of course the really
important thing is to succeed.
A very bright active young tailor once set off on his travels,
which led him into a wood, and as he did not know the way he soon
lost himself. Night came on, and there seemed to be nothing for it
but to seek out the best resting-place he could find. He could
have made himself quite comfortable with a bed of soft moss, but
the fear of wild beasts disturbed his mind, and at last he
determined to spend the night in a tree.
He sought out a tall oak tree, climbed up to the top, and felt
devoutly thankful that his big smoothing-iron was in his pocket,
for the wind in the tree-tops was so high that he might easily
have been blown away altogether.
After passing some hours of the night, not without considerable
fear and trembling, he noticed a light shining at a little
distance, and hoping it might proceed from some house where he
could find a better shelter than in the top of the tree, he
cautiously descended and went towards the light. It led him to a
little hut all woven together of reeds and rushes. He knocked
bravely at the door, which opened, and by the light which shone
from within he saw an old gray-haired man dressed in a coat made
of bright-coloured patches. 'Who are you, and what do you want?'
asked the old man roughly.
'I am a poor tailor,' replied the youth. 'I have been benighted in
the forest, and I entreat you to let me take shelter in your hut
till morning.'
'Go your way,' said the old man in a sulky tone, 'I'll have
nothing to do with tramps. You must just go elsewhere.'
With these words he tried to slip back into his house, but the
tailor laid hold of his coat-tails, and begged so hard to be
allowed to stay that the old fellow, who was by no means as cross
as he appeared, was at length touched by his entreaties, let him
come in, and after giving him some food, showed him quite a nice
bed in one corner of the room. The weary tailor required no
rocking to rest, but slept sound till early morning, when he was
roused from his slumbers by a tremendous noise. Loud screams and
shouts pierced the thin walls of the little hut. The tailor, with
new-born courage, sprang up, threw on his clothes with all speed
and hurried out. There he saw a huge black bull engaged in a
terrible fight with a fine large stag. They rushed at each other
with such fury that the ground seemed to tremble under them and
the whole air to be filled with their cries. For some time it
appeared quite uncertain which would be the victor, but at length
the stag drove his antlers with such force into his opponent's
body that the bull fell to the ground with a terrific roar, and a
few more strokes finished him.
The tailor, who had been watching the fight with amazement, was
still standing motionless when the stag bounded up to him, and
before he had time to escape forked him up with its great antlers,
and set off at full gallop over hedges and ditches, hill and dale,
through wood and water. The tailor could do nothing but hold on
tight with both hands to the stag's horns and resign himself to
his fate. He felt as if he were flying along. At length the stag
paused before a steep rock and gently let the tailor down to the
ground.
Feeling more dead than alive, he paused for a while to collect his
scattered senses, but when he seemed somewhat restored the stag
struck such a blow on a door in the rock that it flew open. Flames
of fire rushed forth, and such clouds of steam followed that the
stag had to avert its eyes. The tailor could not think what to do
or which way to turn to get away from this awful wilderness, and
to find his way back amongst human beings once more.
As he stood hesitating, a voice from the rock cried to him: 'Step
in without fear, no harm shall befall you.'
He still lingered, but some mysterious power seemed to impel him,
and passing through the door he found himself in a spacious hall,
whose ceiling, walls, and floor were covered with polished tiles
carved all over with unknown figures. He gazed about, full of
wonder, and was just preparing to walk out again when the same
voice bade him: 'Tread on the stone in the middle of the hall, and
good luck will attend you.'
By this time he had grown so courageous that he did not hesitate
to obey the order, and hardly had he stepped on the stone than it
began to sink gently with him into the depths below. On reaching
firm ground he found himself in a hall of much the same size as
the upper one, but with much more in it to wonder at and admire.
Round the walls were several niches, in each of which stood glass
vessels filled with some bright-coloured spirit or bluish smoke.
On the floor stood two large crystal boxes opposite each other,
and these attracted his curiosity at once.
Stepping up to one of them, he saw within it what looked like a
model in miniature of a fine castle surrounded by farms, barns,
stables, and a number of other buildings. Everything was quite
tiny, but so beautifully and carefully finished that it might have
been the work of an accomplished artist. He would have continued
gazing much longer at this remarkable curiosity had not the voice
desired him to turn round and look at the crystal coffin which
stood opposite.
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