THE SPINDLE, THE SHUTTLE, AND THE NEEDLE
There was once a girl whose father and mother died while she was still a little child. All alone, in a small house at the end of the village, dwelt her godmother, who supported herself by spinning, weaving, and sewing. The old woman took the forlorn child to live with her, kept her to her work, and educated her in all that is good.
When the girl was fifteen, the old woman became ill, called the child to her bedside, and said, “Dear Daughter, I feel my end drawing near. I leave you the little house, which will protect you from wind and weather, and my spindle, shuttle, and needle, with which you can earn your bread.”
Then she laid her hands on the girl’s head, blessed her, and said, “Only preserve the love of God in your heart, and all will go well with you.”
Thereupon she closed her eyes, and when she was laid in the earth, the maiden followed the coffin, weeping bitterly, and paid her the last mark of respect.
And now the maiden lived quite alone in the little house, and was industrious, and span, wove, and sewed, and the blessing of the good old woman was on all that she did. It seemed as if the flax in the room increased of its own accord, and whenever she wove a piece of cloth or carpet, or had made a shirt, she at once found a buyer who paid her amply for it. So that she was in want of nothing, and even had something to share with others.
About this time, the Son of the King was traveling about the country looking for a Bride. He was not to choose a poor one, and did not want to have a rich one. So he said, “She shall be my wife who is the poorest, and at the same time the richest.”
When he came to the village where the maiden dwelt, he inquired, as he did wherever he went, who was the richest and also the poorest girl in the place? They first named the richest; the poorest, they said, was the girl who lived in the small house quite at the end of the village.
The rich girl was sitting in all her splendor before the door of her house, and when the Prince approached her, she got up, went to meet him, and made him a low curtsey. He looked at her, said nothing, and rode on.
When he came to the house of the poor girl, she was not standing at the door, but sitting in her little room. He stopped his horse, and saw, through the window on which the bright sun was shining, the girl sitting at her spinning-wheel, busily spinning. She looked up, and when she saw that the Prince was gazing in, blushed all over her face, let her eyes fall, and went on spinning. I do not know whether, just at that moment, the thread was quite even; but she went on spinning until the King’s Son had ridden away again.
Then she stepped to the window, opened it, and said, “It is so warm in this room!” but she still looked after him as long as she could see the white feathers in his hat. Then she sat down to work again in her own room and went on with her spinning. And a saying which the old woman had often repeated when she was sitting at her work, came into her mind, and she sang these words to herself:
“Spindle, my Spindle, haste, haste thee away,
Here to my house bring the wooer, I pray.”
And what do you think happened? The spindle sprang out of her hand in an instant, and out of the door. And when, in her astonishment, she got up and looked after it, she saw that it was dancing out merrily into the open country, and drawing a shining golden thread after it. Before long, it had entirely vanished from her sight.
As she had now no spindle, the girl took the weaver’s shuttle in her hand, sat down to her loom, and began to weave.
The spindle, however, danced continually onward, and just as the thread came to an end, reached the Prince.
“What do I see?” he cried; “the spindle certainly wants to show me the way!” He turned his horse about, and rode back with the golden thread. The girl was, however, sitting at her work singing:
“Shuttle, my Shuttle, weave well this day,
And guide the wooer to me, I pray.”
Immediately the shuttle sprang out of her hand and out by the door. Before the threshold, however, it began to weave a carpet which was more beautiful than the eyes of man had ever yet beheld. Lilies and roses blossomed on both sides of it. And on a golden ground in the centre green branches ascended, under which bounded hares and rabbits. Stags and deer stretched their heads in between them. Brightly-colored birds were sitting in the branches above. They lacked nothing but the gift of song. The shuttle leapt hither and thither, and everything seemed to grow of its own accord.
As the shuttle had run away, the girl sat down to sew. She held the needle in her hand and sang:
“Needle, my Needle, sharp-pointed and fine,
Prepare for a wooer this house of mine.”
Then the needle leapt out of her fingers, and flew everywhere about the room as quick as lightning. It was just as if invisible spirits were working. They covered tables and benches with green cloth in an instant, and the chairs with velvet, and hung the windows with silken curtains.
Hardly had the needle put in the last stitch, than the maiden saw through the window the white feathers of the Prince, whom the spindle had brought thither by the golden thread. He alighted, stepped over the carpet into the house, and when he entered the room, there stood the maiden in her poor garments, but she shone out from them like a rose surrounded by leaves.
“You are the poorest and also the richest,” said he to her. “Come with me, you shall be my Bride.”
She did not speak, but she gave him her hand. Then he kissed her, and led her forth, lifted her on to his horse, and took her to the royal castle, where the wedding was solemnized with great rejoicings.
The spindle, shuttle, and needle were preserved in the treasure-chamber, and held in great honor.
THE THREE LUCK-CHILDREN
A father once called his three sons before him. He gave to the first a cock, to the second a scythe, and to the third a cat.
“I am old,” said he, “my death is nigh, and I have wished to take thought for you before my end. Money I have not, and what I now give you seems of little worth. But all depends on your making a sensible use of it. Only seek out a country where such things are still unknown, and your fortune is made.”
After the father’s death, the eldest went away with his cock. But wherever he came the cock was already known. In the towns, he saw him from a long distance, sitting upon the steeples and turning round with the wind; and in the villages he heard more than one crowing. No one would show any wonder at the creature, so that it did not look as if he would make his fortune by it.
At last, however, it happened that he came to an island where the people knew nothing about cocks, and did not even understand how to tell time. They certainly knew when it was morning or evening. But at night, if they did not sleep through it, not one of them knew how to find out the time.
“Look!” said he, “what a proud creature! It has a ruby-red crown upon its head, and wears spurs like a knight. It calls you three times during the night, at fixed hours; and when it calls for the last time, the sun soon after rises. But if it crows by broad daylight, then take notice, for there will certainly be a change of weather.”
The people were well pleased. For a whole night they did not sleep, and listened with great delight as the cock at two, four, and six o’clock, loudly and clearly proclaimed the time. They asked if the creature were for sale, and how much he wanted for it.
“About as much gold as an ass can carry,” answered he.
“A ridiculously small price for such a precious creature!” they cried all together, and willingly gave him what he had asked.
When he came home with his wealth, his brothers were astonished, and the second said, “Well, I will go forth and see whether I cannot get rid of my scythe as profitably.” But it did not look as if he would, for laborers met him everywhere, and they had scythes upon their shoulders as well as he.
At last, however, he chanced upon an island where the people knew nothing of scythes. When the corn was ripe, they took cannon out to the fields and shot it down. Now this was rather an uncertain affair. Many shot right over it, others hit the ears instead of the stems and shot them away, whereby much was lost; and besides all this it made a terrible noise.
So the man set to work and mowed it down so quietly and quickly that the people opened their mouths with astonishment. They agreed to give him what he wanted for the scythe, and he received a horse laden with as much gold as it could carry.
And now the third brother wanted to take his cat to the right man. He fared just like the others. So long as he stayed on the mainland, there was nothing to be done. Every place had cats, and there were so many of them that most new-born kittens were drowned in the ponds.
At last, he sailed to an island, and it luckily happened that no cats had ever yet been seen there, and that the mice had got the upper hand so much, that they danced upon the tables and benches whether the master were at home or not. The people complained bitterly of the plague. The King himself, in his palace, did not know how to secure himself against them. Mice squeaked in every corner, and gnawed whatever they could lay hold of with their teeth.
But now the cat began her chase, and soon cleared a couple of rooms, and the people begged the King to buy the wonderful beast for the country. The King willingly gave what was asked, which was a mule laden with gold; and the third brother came home with the greatest treasure of all.
The cat made merry with the mice in the royal palace, and killed so many that they could not be counted. At last she grew warm with the work and thirsty, so she stood still, lifted up her head and cried, “Mew! mew!”
When they heard this strange cry, the King and all his people were frightened, and in their terror ran out of the palace.
Then the King took counsel what was best to be done. At last, it was decided to send a herald to the cat, and command her to leave the palace; if not, she was to expect that force would be used against her.
The councilors said, “We would rather be plagued with mice to which misfortune we are accustomed, than give up our lives to such a monster as this.”
A noble youth, therefore, was sent to ask the cat whether she “would peaceably quit the palace.” But the cat, whose thirst had become still greater, answered again, “Mew! Mew!”
The youth thought that she said, “Most certainly not! Most certainly not!” and took this answer to the King.
“Then,” said the councilors, “she must yield to force.”
Cannon were brought out, and the palace was soon in flames. When the fire reached the room where the cat was sitting, she sprang safely out of the window. But the besiegers did not leave off, until the whole palace was shot down to the ground.
THE DONKEY CABBAGES
There was once a young huntsman, who went into the forest to lie in wait. He had a fresh and joyous heart, and as he was going thither, whistling upon a leaf, an ugly old crone came up, who spoke to him and said, “Good-day, dear huntsman, truly you are merry and contented, but I am suffering from hunger and thirst, do give me an alms.”
The huntsman had compassion on the poor old creature, felt in his pocket, and gave her what he could afford.
He was then about to go further, but the old woman stopped him and said, “Listen, dear Huntsman, to what I tell you. I will make you a present in return for your kindness. Go on your way now, but in a little while you will come to a tree, whereon nine birds are sitting which have a cloak in their claws, and are plucking at it. Take your gun and shoot into the midst of them. They will let the cloak fall down to you, but one of the birds will be hurt, and will drop dead.
“Carry away the cloak, it is a Wishing-Cloak. When you throw it over your shoulders, you only have to wish to be in a certain place, and you will be there in the twinkling of an eye. Take out the heart of the dead bird, swallow it whole, and every morning early, when you get up, you will find a gold piece under your pillow.”
The huntsman thanked the Wise Woman, and thought to himself, “Those are fine things that she has promised me, if all does but come true!”
And verily when he had walked about a hundred paces, he heard in the branches above him a screaming and twittering. He looked up and saw a crowd of birds, who were tearing a piece of cloth with their beaks and claws, and tugging and fighting as if each wanted to have it all to himself.
“Well,” said the huntsman, “this is wonderful. It has come to pass just as the old wife foretold!” and he took the gun from his shoulder, aimed and fired right into the midst of them, so that the feathers flew about.
The birds instantly took to flight with loud outcries, but one dropped down dead, and the cloak fell at the same time. Then the huntsman did as the old woman had directed him, cut open the bird, sought the heart, swallowed it down, and took the cloak home with him.
Next morning, when he awoke, the promise occurred to him. He wished to see if it also had been fulfilled. When he lifted up the pillow, the gold piece shone in his eyes. The next day, he found another, and so it went on, every time he got up. He gathered together a heap of gold, but at last he thought, “Of what use is all my gold to me if I stay at home? I will go forth and see the world.”
He then took leave of his parents, buckled on his huntsman’s pouch and gun, and went out into the world.
It came to pass, that one day he traveled through a dense forest, and when he came to the end of it, in the plain before him was a fine castle. An Old Woman was standing with a wonderfully beautiful maiden, looking out of one of the windows.
The Old Woman, however, was a Witch and said to the maiden, “There comes a man out of the forest, who has a wonderful treasure in his body. We must filch it from him, my dear Daughter. It is more suitable for us than for him. He has a bird’s heart about him, by means of which every morning, a gold piece lies under his pillow.” She told her what she was to do to get it, and what part she had to play, and finally threatened her, and said with angry eyes, “And if you do not attend to what I say, it will be the worse for you.”
Now when the huntsman came nearer he descried the maiden, and said to himself, “I have traveled about for such a long time, I will take a rest for once, and enter that beautiful castle. I have certainly money enough.” Nevertheless, the real reason was that he had caught sight of the pretty maiden.
He entered the house, and was well received and courteously entertained. Before long, he was so much in love with the young Witch that he no longer thought of anything else, and saw things as she saw them, and did what she desired.
The Old Woman then said, “Now we must have the bird’s heart, he will never miss it.” She prepared a drink, and when it was ready, poured it into a cup and gave it to the maiden, who was to present it to the huntsman.
She did so, saying, “Now, my Dearest, drink to me.”
So he took the cup, and when he had swallowed the draught, he brought up the heart of the bird. The girl had to take it away secretly and swallow it herself, for the Old Woman would have it so. Thenceforward he found no more gold under his pillow. But it lay instead under that of the maiden, from whence the Old Woman fetched it away every morning. But he was so much in love and so befooled, that he thought of nothing else but of passing his time with the maiden.
Then the old Witch said, “We have the bird’s heart, but we must also take the Wishing-Cloak away from him.”
The maiden answered, “We will leave him that; he has lost his wealth.”
The Old Woman was angry and said, “Such a mantle is a wonderful thing, and is seldom to be found in this world. I must and will have it!” She gave the maiden several blows, and said that if she did not obey, it should fare ill with her.
So she did the Old Woman’s bidding, placed herself at the window and looked on the distant country, as if she were very sorrowful.
The huntsman asked, “Why do you stand there so sorrowfully?”
“Ah, my Beloved,” was her answer, “over yonder lies the Garnet Mountain, where the precious stones grow. I long for them so much that when I think of them, I feel quite sad, but who can get them? Only the birds; they fly and can reach them, but a man never.”
“Have you nothing else to complain of?” said the huntsman. “I will soon remove that burden from your heart.”
With that he drew her under his mantle, wished himself on the Garnet Mountain. In the twinkling of an eye they were sitting on it together. Precious stones were glistening on every side, so that it was a joy to see them. Together they gathered the finest and costliest of them.
Now, the Old Woman had, through her sorceries, contrived that the eyes of the huntsman should become heavy. He said to the maiden, “We will sit down and rest a while. I am so tired, that I can no longer stand on my feet.”
Then they sat down, and he laid his head in her lap, and fell asleep. When he was asleep, she unfastened the mantle from his shoulders, and wrapped herself in it, picked up the garnets and stones, and wished herself back at home with them.
But when the huntsman had had his sleep out, he awoke, and perceived that his sweetheart had betrayed him, and left him alone on the wild mountain. Then he said, “Oh, what treachery there is in the world!” and sat there in care and sorrow, not knowing what to do.
But the mountain belonged to some wild and monstrous Giants, who dwelt thereon and lived their lives there, and he had not sat long, before he saw three of them coming toward him. The Giants came up, and the first kicked him with his foot and said, “What sort of an earthworm is lying curled up here?”
The second said, “Step upon him and kill him.”
But the third said, “Would that be worth your while? Let him live, he cannot remain here. When he climbs higher, toward the summit of the mountain, the clouds will lay hold of him and bear him away.” So saying they passed by.
But the Huntsman had paid heed to their words, and as soon as they were gone, he rose and climbed up to the summit of the mountain. And when he had sat there a while, a cloud floated toward him, caught him up, carried him away, and traveled about for a long time in the heavens. Then it sank lower, and let itself down on a great cabbage-garden, girt round by walls, so that he came softly to the ground on cabbages and vegetables.
Then the huntsman looked about him, and said, “If I only had something to eat! I am so hungry, and my hunger will grow greater. But I see here neither apples nor pears, nor any other sort of fruit, everywhere there is nothing but cabbages.” At length he thought, “At a pinch I can eat some of the leaves. They do not taste particularly good, but they will refresh me.”
With that he picked himself out a fine head of cabbage, and ate it. But scarcely had he swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, when wonderful! he felt quite changed.
Four legs grew on him, a large head and two thick ears; and he saw with horror that he was changed into a Donkey. Still as his hunger became greater every minute, and as the juicy leaves were suitable to his present nature, he went on eating with great zest. At last he arrived at a different kind of cabbage, but as soon as he had swallowed it, he again felt a change, and resumed his human shape.
Then the huntsman lay down, and slept off his fatigue. When he awoke next morning, he broke off one head of the bad cabbages and another of the good ones, and thought to himself, “This shall help me to get my own again and punish treachery.”
Then he took the cabbages with him, climbed over the wall, and went forth to seek for the castle of his sweetheart.
After wandering about for a couple of days, he was lucky enough to find it again. He dyed his face brown, so that his own mother would not have known him; and begged for shelter. “I am so tired,” said he, “that I can go no further.”
The Witch asked, “Who are you, Countryman, and what is your business?”
Said he, “I have been so fortunate as to find the most wonderful salad which grows under the sun, and am carrying it about with me.”
When the Old Woman heard of the exquisite salad, she was greedy, and said, “Dear Countryman, let me just taste this wonderful salad.”
“Why not?” answered he, “I have brought two heads with me, and will give you one of them,” and he opened his pouch and handed her the bad cabbage.
The Witch suspected nothing amiss, and her mouth watered so for this new dish, that she herself went into the kitchen and prepared it. When it was ready she could not wait until it was set on the table, but took a couple of leaves at once, and put them in her mouth. Hardly had she swallowed them, than she was deprived of her human shape, and she ran out into the courtyard in the form of a Donkey.
Presently the maid-servant entered the kitchen, saw the salad standing there ready prepared, and was about to carry it up. But on the way, according to habit, she was seized by the desire to taste, and she ate a couple of leaves. Instantly the magic power showed itself, and she likewise became a Donkey, and ran out to the Old Woman. And the dish of salad fell to the ground.
Meantime the huntsman sat beside the beautiful maiden, and as no one came with the salad and she also was longing for it, she said, “I don’t know what has become of the salad.”
The huntsman thought, “The salad must have already taken effect,” and said, “I will go to the kitchen and inquire about it.”
As he went down he saw the two Donkeys running about in the courtyard. The salad, however, was lying on the ground. “All right,” said he, “the two have taken their portion,” and he picked up the other leaves, laid them on the dish, and carried them to the maiden. “I bring you the delicate food myself,” said he, “in order that you may not have to wait longer.”
Then she ate of it, and was, like the others, immediately deprived of her human form, and ran out into the courtyard in the shape of a Donkey.
After the huntsman had washed his face, so that the transformed ones could recognize him, he went down into the courtyard, and said, “Now you shall receive the wages of your treachery,” and bound them together, all three with one rope, and drove them along until he came to a mill.
He knocked at the window, the miller put out his head, and asked what he wanted. “I have three unmanageable beasts,” answered he, “which I don’t want to keep any longer. Will you take them in, and give them food and stable room, and manage them as I tell you? Then I will pay you what you ask.”
The miller said, “Why not? But how am I to manage them?”
The huntsman then said that he was to give three beatings and one meal daily to the old Donkey, and that was the Witch; one beating and three meals to the younger one, which was the servant-girl; and to the youngest, which was the maiden, no beatings and three meals, for he could not bring himself to have the maiden beaten. After that he went back into the castle, and found therein everything he needed.
After a couple of days, the miller came and said he must inform him that the old Donkey which had received three beatings and only one meal daily, was dead; “the two others,” he continued, “are certainly not dead, and are fed three times daily, but they are so sad that they cannot last much longer.”
The huntsman was moved to pity, put away his anger, and told the miller to drive them back again to him. And when they came, he gave them some of the good salad, so that they became human again.
The beautiful maiden fell on her knees before him, and said, “Ah, my Beloved, forgive me for the evil I have done you. My mother drove me to it. It was done against my will, for I love you dearly. Your Wishing-Cloak hangs in a cupboard, and as for the Bird’s-Heart I will take a potion and bring it up again.”
But he thought otherwise, and said, “Keep it. It is all the same, for I will take you for my true wife.”
So the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happily together until their death.