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A King who had three daughters was ill, and asked for some water from the well in his court-yard. The eldest went down and drew a glassful, but when she held it up to the sun, she saw that it was not clear. She thought this very strange, and was about to empty it again, when a frog appeared in the well, stretched forth its head, and at last jumped onto the edge of it. It then said to her,

“Oh, indeed, who would be the sweetheart of a disgusting frog?” cried the King’s daughter, and ran away. When she went back again she told her sisters about the wonderful frog which was in the well and made the water muddy. Then the second went down and drew a glassful, which was also so thick that no one could drink it. The frog again sat on the brink, and said,

“That would be a chance for me!” cried the King’s daughter, and ran away. At last the third also went to draw water, but she did not succeed better, and the frog cried to her,

“Very well, then,” she answered laughingly, “I will be your sweetheart; I will really; only draw me some pure water that is fit to drink.” She thought to herself, “What can it signify, it is very easy to please him by saying that; after all, a stupid frog can never be my sweetheart.” The frog had, however, leapt back into the well, and when the King’s daughter again drew some water, it was so clear that the sun was actually sparkling in it for joy. So she took the glass upstairs and said to her sisters, “Why were you so stupid as to be afraid of the frog?” Then the King’s daughter thought no more about it, and went to bed quite happy. And when she had lain there a while, but had not fallen asleep, she heard a noise outside the door, and someone sang,

“Why, if that is not my sweetheart the frog!” said the King’s child. “Well, as I promised, I will open the door for him.” So she got up, and opened the door for him a very little, and then lay down again. The frog hopped after her, and at last hopped on the bottom of the bed to her feet, and stayed lying there, and when the night was over and day dawning, it leapt down and went out by the door. The next night when the King’s daughter was in bed, it again crawled to the door, and sang its little song, she again opened the door, and the frog lay for another night at her feet. On the third night it came once more; then she said, “Mind, this is the last time that I shall let thee in; in future it won’t happen.” Then the frog jumped under her pillow, and she fell asleep. And when she awoke next morning, and expected the frog to hop away again, a handsome young prince was standing before her, who said that he had been the bewitched frog, but was now set free, because she had promised to be his sweetheart. Then they both went to the King, who gave them his blessing; a magnificent wedding was celebrated, and the two other sisters were vexed that they had not taken the frog to be their sweetheart.

[SYNOPSIS] A poor man goes into a forest and is about to hang himself because he cannot support his children. Then comes a black carriage with four black horses; a beautiful maiden, dressed in black, alights from it, and tells him that in a thicket in front of his house, he will find a bag of money, and, in return for that, he must give her what is concealed in his house. The man consents, and finds the money, but the thing which is concealed is his yet unborn child. When it is born, the maiden comes and wants to carry it away, but as the mother begs so hard, the maiden leaves it until its twelfth year. Then she takes it away to a black castle, which is furnished magnificently, and the child may go into every part of it except one chamber. For four years the girl is obedient, then she can no longer resist the torment of curiosity, and peeps into the chamber through a crack.

She sees four black maidens, who, absorbed in reading, appear alarmed at the instant, but her foster-mother comes out, and says, “I must drive thee away; what wilt thou lose most willingly?” “Speech,” replies the girl. She gives her such a blow on the mouth that the blood streams out, and drives her forth. She has to pass the night under a tree, and next morning the King’s son finds her there, takes her away with him, and against his mother’s will, marries the dumb beauty. When the first child comes into the world, the wicked mother-in-law takes it and throws it into the water, sprinkles the sick Queen with blood, and gives out that she has devoured her own child. Thus it happens twice more, and then the innocent Queen, who cannot defend herself, is to be burnt. She is already standing in the fire when the black carriage comes; the maiden steps out of it, and goes through the flames, which instantly sink down and are extinguished; reaches the Queen, smites her on the month, and thus restores her speech; the other three maidens bring the three children whom they have rescued from the water, the treachery comes to light, and the wicked stepmother is put into a barrel filled with snakes and poisonous adders, and rolled down a hill.

A certain man once lived in the world whose father was a smith, who carried the youth to the grave-yard and to every place where it was terrible, but he never knew what fear was. Then his father said, “When once thou goest out into the world thou wilt soon learn it.” He went out, and it chanced that he arrived in a village by night, and as all the houses were shut, he lay down beneath the gallows. And as he saw a man hanging there, he spoke to him, and said, “Why art thou hanging there?” Then the man who was hanging, answered, “I am innocent. The schoolmaster stole the little bell of the alms-bag, and denounced me as the thief. If thou wilt help me to a decent burial, I will present thee with a staff, with which thou canst drive away all spirits. The schoolmaster has concealed the little bell under a great stone in his cellar.” When the youth heard that, he got up, went into the village to the schoolmaster’s house and knocked. The schoolmaster got up, but would not open his door, because he was afraid, but the other cried, “If thou dost not open the door, I will break it open.” So the schoolmaster opened it, and the youth instantly seized him just as he was, in his shirt, took him on his back, and carried him to the judge’s house. Then he cried aloud, “Open your door, I am bringing a thief.” When the judge came out, the youth said, “Take down from the gallows the poor sinner outside; he is innocent, and hang up this one in his stead; he stole the little bell from the alms-bag, and it is lying in his cellar, under a great stone.” The judge sent thither and the little bell was found, so the schoolmaster was forced to confess the theft. Then the judge pronounced the sentence, that the innocent man should be taken down from the gallows, and honourably buried, and that the thief should be hanged in his place.

The next night when the innocent man was already lying in a Christian grave, the young smith went out once more. Then the spirit came, and presented him with the staff which he had promised him. Said the smith, “Now I will go out into the world, and look for the “Scare-me-well.”

It so happened that he arrived in a town where there was a bewitched castle, which no one ever dared to enter. When the King heard that a man had arrived who was afraid of nothing, he caused him to be summoned, and said,” If thou wilt deliver this castle for me, I will make thee so rich that thou shalt know no end to thy possessions.” “Oh, yes,” answered he, “I’ll do it willingly, only someone must show me the way to the castle.” Said the King, “I have no keys to it.” “I don’t want any,” he replied, “I will contrive to get inside.” Then was he taken thither, and when he reached the first gate, he struck it with his staff, and it sprang open instantly, and behind it lay the keys of the whole castle. He opened the first inside door, and as it opened, the spirits came against him. One of them had horns, another spat fire, and all were black as coal. Then he said, “What queer folks are these! They might be the devil himself! They may all go home with me, and mend my father’s fire for him.” And when they rushed forward against him, he took his staff, and smote them all together, six of them at a time, and seized them, and pushed them into a room where they could no longer stir. Then he took the keys in his hand again, and opened the second door. There stood a coffin, and a dead man lay in it, and on the ground beside it, was a great black poodle which had a burning chain round its neck. So he went up to it, and struck the coffin with his staff; and said, “Why art thou lying in there, old charcoal-burner?” The dead body rose up, and wanted to terrify him, but he cried, “Out with thee at once.” And as the dead man did not come immediately, he seized him, and thrust him among the rest. Then he returned and caught hold of the burning chain, and wound it round himself, crying, “Away with thee!” But the black dog defended itself, and spat fire. Then said he, “If thou canst do that, there is all the more reason for taking thee with me. Thou also shalt help my father to light his fire.” But before he was aware, the dog was gone, and he was most likely the devil.

Now he had still one little key for the last door. As he opened that, twelve black spirits which had horns and breathed fire rushed on him, but he struck them with his staff, dragged them out, and threw them into a water-cistern, the cover of which he shut fast.

“I have laid them to rest,” said he, well pleased, “but it has made me warm; I should like a drink after it.” So he went into the cellar, tapped some of the old wine which was there, and enjoyed himself. But the King said, “I should just like to know how he has got on,” and sent his confessor thither, for no one else dared to trust himself in that bewitched castle. When the confessor, who was crooked and hump-backed, came to the castle and knocked, the young smith opened the door for him, but when he saw him in all his deformity, and in his black gown, he cried, “After all, there is another of them left. What dost thou want, thou crooked old devil?” and he locked him up too.

So the King waited one day longer, but as the confessor did not return at all, he sent a number of warriors who were to make their way into the castle by force. The smith said, “Here are some men coming, so I wilt gladly let them in.” They asked him why he had shut up the King’s confessor? “Eh! What!” said he. “But how could I know that he was the confessor? And why did he come here in his black gown?” Then the soldiers asked him what they were to say to the King. “That he may come here himself,” he replied, “and that the castle is cleared.”

When the King heard that, he came full of joy, and found great possessions in jewels, silver-work, and old wine, all of which were once more in his power.

Then he ordered a coat to be made for the young smith, which was entirely of gold. “No,” said the smith, “I will not have that; it is the coat of a fool,” and threw it away, and said, “But I will not leave the castle until the King has shown me the Scare-me-well; for that I must really get to know.” Then the King had a white linen blouse made for him, and in order to do him some good in spite of himself he had a number of pieces of gold sewn inside it. But the young smith said, “That is too heavy for me!” and threw it away, put on his old blouse, and said, “But before I go home to my father I must just see the Scare-me-well.” Then he took his staff, and went to the King, who led him up to a cannon. The young smith looked at it well and went round about it, and asked what kind of a thing that was? Said the King, “Stand a little aside,” and ordered the cannon to be charged and fired off. When the young smith heard the violent report, he cried, “That was the Scare-me-well, now I have seen it!” and went home quite content.

[SYNOPSIS] Hans continually tells his father that he is afraid of nothing in the world. The father wishes to break him of this, and orders his two daughters to hide themselves at night in the charnel-house, and then he will send out Hans, and they, wrapped in white sheets, are to pelt him with bones, which will soon terrify him. At eleven o’clock the father says, “I have the tooth-ache so badly; Hans, go and fetch me a dead man’s bone; but take care of thyself, the bone-house may be haunted.” When he gets there, the sisters pelt him with dead men’s bones. “Who is throwing things at me?” cries Hans. “If thou dost it again, thou shalt just see!” They pelt him again, and he seizes them, and wrings their necks. Then he takes a bone, and goes home with it. “How hast thou fared, Hans?” says the father. “Well: but there were two white things there, which threw things at me; however, I have wrung their necks.” “Alack,” cries the father, “they were thy two sisters; go away at once, or thou too, wilt have to die.”

Hans goes his way into the wide world, and says everywhere, “I am called Hans Fear-naught.” He has to watch three nights in a castle, and thus free it from ghosts. The King gives him a soldier as a companion. Hans begs for two bottles of wine and a horsewhip. At night it becomes so cold that the two can bear it no longer. The soldier goes out and is about to light a fire in the stove, when the ghosts wring his neck. Hans stays in the room and warms himself with wine. Then there is a knock. Hans cries, “Come in, if thou hast a head.” No one comes, but there is another knock, and then Hans cries, “Come in, even if thou hast no head.” Then there is a crackling sound in the beam above, Hans looks up, and sees a mouse-hole; a pot full of tow falls down, and a poodle-dog is formed from this, which grows visibly, and at last hecomes a tall man, whose head, however, is not at the top of his body, but under his arm. Hans says to him, “Put thy head on, and we will have a game at cards.” The monster obeys, and they play together. Hans loses a thousand thalers, which he promises to pay the next night. Then, however, all happens as on the previous night. A soldier who has once more been given to Hans as a companion is cold, and goes out to light a fire. As he is stooping, his head is cut off. Hans again hears the knocking, and cries, “Come in, either with or without thy head.” The ghost comes in with his head under his arm, but has to put it on in order to be able to play again. Hans wins two thousand thalers from the ghost, which he promises to bring the following night. This last night begins in the same way, the soldier who leaves the room in order to light the fire, is thrust into the stove by the spirits, and is suffocated inside it; the powerful spirit goes to Hans, gives him the thousand thalers he owes him, and tells him he is to take himself off at once, or it will cost him his life, for all the spirits are coming to a great meeting. But Hans will not go, and says, “I will soon show you all the door.” The two struggle with each other to see which shall give way, until at last they agree to count three, and that the one who can then first thrust his finger into the keyhole shall stay. Hans counts, and the ghost gets his finger in first, on which Hans fetches a morsel of wood and a hammer, and wedges it tightly in, and then takes his horsewhip and beats him so violently, that the ghost promises never to let either himself or any of his spirits be seen in the castle again, if he may be allowed to remain in the little flower-garden behind the castle. Hans consents to that, and sets him free, on which the ghost and all the spirit-folk run instantly into the garden. The King causes a high wall to be built round it, the castle is delivered, and Hans receives the King’s daughter to wife.

At the bidding of an old woman, a poor peasant invites the first person whom he meets on the road, who is a stranger to him, to stand as godfather. It so happens that this is the King, who therefore holds the child at the christening, and gives him the name of Roland. The Queen has been confined at the same time, and her child called Joseph. When a year has passed by, the King sends for the little Roland, and adopts him as his child. Roland and Joseph grow together, and look on each other as brothers. When they are twenty years of age, the King one day rides away and leaves them the keys of all the rooms, all of which they may open but one. Roland, however, is so curious that on the third day he persuades Joseph to go into the forbidden room with him. It is entirely hung with cloth, but when Roland lifts this up he beholds the portrait of a wonderfully beautiful maiden, and faints at the sight; Joseph carries him out. Roland is restored to consciousness, but from that hour is sick with love, and knows no rest until they both go to the kingdom where the King’s daughter lives.

She is shut up in a tower for seven years. In the evening she is taken in a closed carriage to her parents, and early in the morning before daybreak back again to the tower. Roland and Joseph cannot see her even once, and have to go home as they came. Then their father gives them four ships; three furnished with cannon, and one with the most beautiful wares. They sail thither, and give out that they are merchants, and Joseph begs the King to make a law that only one person at a time may go on board his ship, as it would otherwise be too much crowded. This is done, and now the King himself comes on board the ship, and after him the Queen, and they buy largely. And as all the things are so beautiful, their daughter is to see them too. But no sooner has she stepped on board than the anchor is raised, and the lovely bride carried away. The King sends a ship to bring her back again, but that is sunk by the cannon.

During the voyage Joseph is one night on the watch, and hears a murmuring, and a voice which cries, “Do you know any news?” “News enough,” answers another, “the King’s beautiful daughter is stolen away, and is here in this ship; but whosoever intends to have her for his wife must first find someone who will cut the black horse’s head off.” This alarms Joseph, and the next night, when Roland is going to keep watch, Joseph begs him to sleep instead, and give up the watch to him. Then he again hears the voices. “Do you know any news?” “News enough; the King’s daughter is stolen away, and is shut up here in the ship; but whosoever intends to have her to wife, can only succeed if anyone can be found who, when the bridegroom is drinking the bride’s health, will strike away the glass from his lips so that the fragments fly round about. He, however, who speaks of this will be turned into stone to the height of his heart.” Joseph is on the watch on the third night also, and then he hears, “The bridegroom cannot obtain the bride unless someone can be found to cut off the seven heads of the dragon which will be thrust in through the window on the night of the marriage. He, however, who speaks of this will be stone to his head.” On the following day they arrive; the King comes to meet them with his people, and brings with him a white horse for Joseph, and a black one for Roland. Joseph mounts his, and cuts the black one’s head off. All are astonished and excited, and ask the cause, but he replies, “I may and dare not tell you.” In the same way also at the wedding-feast, when Roland is about to drink his bride’s health, Joseph strikes the glass away from his lips so that the fragments fly about.

At last at night when Roland and his bride are already asleep, Joseph walks with his drawn sword backwards and forwards in the room before the window. Suddenly something begins to roar and bellow, and a dragon thrusts in his seven heads. He cuts them off at one blow, and the blood spurts into the room and fills his boots. The watch hearing the noise, summon the King, who comes, and when he opens the door the blood streams out to meet him, and he sees Joseph with drawn sword. “Alas, what hast thou done, my son?” he cries. Then Joseph cannot do otherwise than tell him all, and is immediately encased in stone, so that no one can see anything of him but his head, which seems to be asleep. In the course of a year the young Queen brings a son into the world, and then she dreams on three successive nights that if Joseph is smeared with the blood of the child he will be set free. She relates her dream to Roland, who summons together all the counsellors of the kingdom, who say that indeed he must sacrifice his child for the sake of his friend. So the child is christened, and then its head is cut off. Joseph is smeared with the blood of the child, the stone disappears forthwith, and he stands up and says, “Alas, dear brother, why hast thou awakened me? I have slept so sweetly.” They tell him all that has passed, and then Joseph says, “Now I must help thee once more,” and ties up the dead child in a linen cloth, and goes away with him.

When he has already wandered about for three-quarters of a year, and troubled at heart that he can find no help, seats himself beneath a tree, an aged man comes and gives him two small bottles wherein are the water of life, and the water of beauty. Joseph now carries the child home, but is forced to beg, as he has nothing left. After a quarter of a year, he reaches his father’s castle, and then he sits down on the bridge and rubs the child first with the water of life, which restores it to life, and then with the water of beauty, which makes it more fresh and beautiful than all others. Thereupon he takes it to its parents, who rejoice over it with all their hearts.

A mother cannot induce her daughter to spin, and for this reason often beats her. A man who on one occasion sees this, asks what is the meaning of it. The mother answers, “I cannot keep her from spinning; she spins away more flax than I can procure.” The man says, “Then give her to me to wife; I shall be quite satisfied with her indefatigable industry, even if she bring me nothing else.” The mother is heartily delighted, and the man at once gives his betrothed a great provision of flax. At this she is secretly terrified, but she takes it and puts it in her room, and considers what she is to do. Then three women come in front of her window, one so broad with sitting that she cannot get through the door of the room, the second has an enormous nose, the third a broad thumb. They offer their services to her, and promise the bride to spin what has been given to her if, on her wedding-day, she will not be ashamed of them, but will declare that they are her aunts, and place them at her table. She agrees to this, and they spin the flax, for which the bridegroom praises the bride. So when the wedding-day comes, the three horrible women appear also, and the bride pays them great honour, and says they are her aunts. The bridegroom is astonished, and asks how she comes by such repulsive relatives. “Ah,” says the bride, “they have all been made like that by spinning. One of them is so broad with sitting, the other has quite licked away her mouth, and that makes her nose stand out so, and the third has twisted the thread so much with her thumb.” Thereupon the bridegroom is much troubled, and tells the bride that she shall not spin another thread so long as she lives that she may not become a monster like them.

There is likewise the following characteristic story from a Dutch book, Van Kleyn Kobisje, alias Koningh sonder Onderzaten. (King without subjects).

Little Kobisje was sitting by his cutting-board peeling an apple, and left the parings lying on it. He made a fly-killer, and when the flies settled on the apple-parings to eat them; he killed seven at one stroke. He leapt up from the table, imagining that he had performed a valiant deed, and had thus become a great man; sold all he had, and caused a pretty shield to be made for himself on which he had inscribed, “My name is young Kobis the Dauntless, I slew seven at one stroke.” Then he went to a far-off country where a King ruled; placed his shield on his breast, went behind the King’s palace, and lay down on a high hill, where he knew he was accustomed to pass.

At length the sun began to shine brightly, and the King could not imagine what it was that was glittering so, and immediately sent a nobleman thither. When the nobleman came up, he was alarmed when he read, “My name is young Kobis, the Dauntless; I slew seven at one blow.” He went back and told the King what he had seen, who instantly sent two or three companies of soldiers thither with the nobleman, to give him courage, and conduct the stranger to court with the respect and honour due to such a knight. They went thither as the King had ordered, and approached and examined him, but none of them would be the first to speak to him. At last one of the crowd was bold enough to take a spear and touch the sole of his shoe with it. Up he sprang with great vigour, and they fell on their knees, and entreated him to be pleased to go to the King, which he did. When he came to the King, he was treated with great respect. Meanwhile he was informed that he might become the King’s son-in-law, but that there were three difficult things which he must first do for him. In the first place there was a wild boar which did a great deal of mischief, and no one could capture it. Secondly, there were three giants, who had made the King’s forest so dangerous that anyone who traversed it was a dead man. Thirdly, several thousand foreigners had invaded the land, and the realm appeared to be in great peril. He accepted these conditions, and they told him the way to the place where the wild boar lurked.

Full of courage he left the court. He was, however, so terrified when he heard the wild boar that he wished himself back again by his cutting-board. The wild boar came rushing on him with such fury that he looked for a safe place to escape to, espied a ruined chapel, and took refuge in it. The wild boar followed him, but with all speed he sprang through the window over the wall, and shut the door of the chapel. No sooner was the wild boar secured, than Kobisje went to the King, who said to him, “How didst thou catch the wild boar?” The other replied, “I seized it with great force by its bristles and flung it into the chapel, but I would not kill it, for I wanted to present it to you.”

Then there were great rejoicings at court, and he went in search of the giants, and had the good fortune to find them asleep. He took his bag and filled it with stones, climbed up a high tree, and threw a stone at one of them, who thought one of the others had done it, and began to scold, and tell him to leave off throwing stones, or he would box his ears soundly. He threw stones at the second, who likewise began to swear. The third was treated in the same way. He got up, drew his sword, flew at the other, and stabbed him and he fell down on the ground. Then he attacked the other and after a long struggle both fell to the earth exhausted. Kobisje seized the opportunity, came down and took the sword of the dead one and stabbed the two others, cut off their heads, and went back to court again. The King asked him if he had performed the task? He answered, “Yes.” On this the King enquired how he had done it. He answered thus, “I took one giant by his legs and belaboured the other with him till he dropped down dead, and I paid off the other in the same coin. And as the one I was holding by the legs was half dead, I struck him with such force against a tree that it flew up six feet high into the air.’ Again there was great joy at court, and he was held to be the greatest man there. Then he once more made ready, and the nobles of the court with him, and he had an army of brave men of whom he was the general.

Having taken leave, he began his third task. He bade the troops march onwards, and followed on horse back. But as he had never ridden on horseback he had great difficulty in keeping his seat. When they had arrived at the place where the enemy was, he ordered his troops to draw up in order of battle, and was soon told that all was ready. He did not know how to turn his horse round, drew the wrong side of the bridle, spurred his horse, and it went off with him full gallop towards the enemy. As he could not hold the bridle fast, he clutched at a wooden cross by the wayside, which broke off and he held it tightly in his arms. When the enemy perceived him, they thought that he was the Devil, and began to fly, and those who could not escape were drowned. The others unloosed their ships from their moorings and sailed away.

After this victory, he returned to his noblemen, and the whole army, and told them of his conquest, and how he had completely routed the enemy. He went to the King, and informed him of the victory, and the King thanked him. Moreover he had him proclaimed his successor to the throne. The wedding-day was fixed, and great preparations were made for it. When the wedding had taken place, he was held in high esteem, and always placed next the King.

It happened however that nearly every night Kobisje dreamed that he was sitting by his cutting-board once more, and his mind was always filled with this or that thought about his work, and he cried aloud, “Courage, courage, bestir yourselves, in six or seven hours you will leave off work,” for he was fancying that he was giving his apprentices something to cut or sew. The princess was alarmed, for she thought that he must be possessed by the Devil, as he was always babbling, “Courage! Courage!” She accused her father of having given her to a book-binder, and not a great lord. The father resolved to place a company of soldiers by his bed-side who were to take him prisoner or kill him if they heard him say this. He however, was warned, and when he was in bed he thus exclaimed, “I have overcome a wild boar, I have killed three giants; I have slain an army of a hundred thousand men, and shall I be afraid of two or three companies of soldiers to-night?” and he jumped out of bed and went fiercely towards them. On hearing him, they fell head over heels from the top of the stairs to the bottom. Those who lay dead, or had lost legs and arms, were very numerous, and those who ran away, took such news to the King, that he said, “My daughter ought to be wiser than to affront such a great knight!” Soon after this, the King became ill and died, leaving the throne to Kobisje, which he accepted, and ruled over the kingdom in peace.

[A very good story, The Giant and his Boy, which is told in Rae’s White Sea Peninsula, ought to be given here.—Tr.

“A boy once served a giant who, wanting to try his strength, took him into the forest. The giant proposed that they should strike their heads against the fir-trees. The boy anticipating this, had made a hole in a tree and covered it with bark. They both ran, the boy burying his head in the tree while the giant only split the bark. ‘Well,’ said the giant, ‘now I have found a boy who is strong.’

“Then the giant wished to try who could shout the loudest. The giant roared till the mountains trembled, and great rocks tumbled down. The boy cut a branch from a tree, saying he would bind it round the giant’s head for fear it should burst when he shouted. The giant prayed him not to shout, and said they would try instead who could throw the farthest. He produced a great hammer which he threw so high in the air, that it appeared no larger than a fly. The boy said he was considering which sky to throw the hammer into, and the giant, fearing to lose his hammer, asked the boy not to throw at all.

“In the evening the giant asked him when he slept the soundest, and he answered, at midnight. At midnight the giant came and aimed heavy blows at the bed. In the morning when the boy, in reply to the giant’s enquiries, said he had felt some chips falling on his face during the night, the giant thought he had better send him away. This he did, giving him as much money as he could carry.”]

A story from the Schwalm district connects the story of Mother Holle with that of Hansel and Grethel.

[SYNOPSIS] Two girls were sitting together by a well, spinning; one of them was pretty, the other hideous. The pretty one said, “The one who lets her distaff fall into the water shall go in after it.”

Then her distaff fell down, and she was forced to go in after it. When she was below she was however not drowned in the water, but came out in a meadow wherein stood a little pear-tree, to which she said, “Shake thyself, stir thyself,” and then the little pear-tree shook and tossed itself about. Then she came to a little calf, and said, “Moo-calf, stoop down.” Then the little calf stooped down. Then she came to an oven, and said, “Oven, bake me a roll.” Then the oven baked her a roll.

At length she came to a little house made of pancakes, and as she was hungry she ate some of it, and when she had eaten a hole in it, she looked in and saw a little red woman, who cried, “The wind, the heavenly child! come in and comb my hair.” Then she went in and combed the old woman’s hair until she fell asleep. Thereupon the girl went into a room full of things made of gold, and put on a golden dress, and went away again. When however she came to the oven again, she said, “Oven, please do not betray me.” “No, I will not betray thee.” Then she came to the little calf, and at last to the little pear-tree, and to each of them she said, “Betray me not,” and each answered, “No, I will not betray thee.” Then she came out of the well again, and day was just dawning, and the cock cried, “Our golden girl is coming.”

Soon afterwards the dirty ugly girl’s distaff also falls into the well, and she has to go after it. She comes to the pear-tree, the calf, and the oven. She speaks to them as the pretty one had done, but they do not obey her. Then she, too, combs the red old woman’s hair until she has fallen asleep, goes into the room and dresses herself all in gold, and is about to go home. She entreats the oven, the calf and the pear-tree not to betray her, but they answer, “Yes, indeed, we will betray thee.” So when the old woman awakes, she hastens after the girl, and they say to her, “If thou runnest, thou wilt yet overtake her.” She overtakes the girl and dirties her golden dress for her. When she comes out of the well again day is just dawning and the cock cries, “Our dirty girl is coming.”

A story from the Paderborn district is most like this, especially in the sympathy which the things the girl has spoken to on her way show her afterwards.

[SYNOPSIS] She has shaken a little tree, milked a cow which has had its calf stolen from it, and has taken the bread out of the oven. Then in the house she is forced every afternoon to pick the lice off a witch, an ape, and a bear, and for that she receives the most beautiful clothes and a quantity of gold and silver. When she has got all these things, she says, “I will go out and fetch some water.” She goes and again finds the door of the well by which she had come down. She opens it and sees the bucket just being let down. She seats herself in it, and is drawn up. As she stays away, the witch, the ape, and the bear send a great black dog after her, which asks everywhere if no one has seen a girl quite covered with silver and gold. But the tree which she shook points with its leaves to another road, the cow which she milked goes another way and nods her head as if she were showing him the right one, and the oven shoots out its flames and points in quite a wrong direction. The dog therefore cannot find the girl. All fares on the contrary very ill with the wicked girl, when she runs away and comes under the tree which she refused to shake: it shakes itself, and throws down a great many dry branches which strike her, the cow she would not milk kicks her, so that at last she arrives above again, bruised and covered with blue marks.

[SYNOPSIS] There was once a woman who had a great affection for her own daughter, and did not at all love her step-daughter, who was a good and pious girl, but treated her very cruelly, and tried to get rid of her. One day she places both of them by a well, and says that they are to spin there, but adds, “If either of you lets her distaff fall down the well, I will throw her in after it.” Having said this, she fastens her own daughter’s distaff tightly, but her step-daughter’s quite loosely. The latter has only spun very short time, when her distaff falls into the well, and the step-mother is hard-hearted enough to throw her in after it. She falls deep down, but comes into a magnificent garden and to a house in which there is no one. In the kitchen, the soup is just boiling over, the roast meat just going to burn, and the cakes in the oven are just going to turn black. She quickly takes the soup off the fire, pours water on the roast meat, draws the cakes out of the oven, and puts everything right, and though very hungry, takes nothing but a few crumbs which have fallen off while she was trimming the cakes.

But now comes a water-nixie with frightful hair which has certainly not been combed out for a year, and desires the girl to comb it without twitching it, or pulling a single hair out, which at length, with much dexterity, she accomplishes. The nixie now says that she would much like to keep the girl with her, but can not do so because she ate the two or three crumbs, but she gives her a ring and other things, and says if at night she turns the ring round she will come to her. The other daughter likewise has now to go to the nixie, and is thrown into the well, but she does everything wrong, does not restrain her hunger, and therefore comes back with evil gifts.

[A story which I have never met with in print, but which was told me by my friend the late James Macdonell, hears a strong resemblance to Das Mädchen ohne Hände, No. 31, in so far as the method employed to escape from the power of the Evil One is concerned. The beginning is very different. It is as follows.—Tr.

In a lonely farm house, near Tomintoul, Banffshire, dwelt a poor farmer with his wife and family. Things had gone ill with him, and he had for some time not been able “to make all ends meet.” At length he was obliged to let his eldest daughter go out to service. In order to find a place she walked to the hirings held at Grantown, which was several miles from her own home. These hirings were held twice a year at the great Candlemas and Martinmas fairs, and men and women stood in the market-place waiting to find places. She stood all day long, but no one hired her. At last, late in the evening, and bitterly disappointed at losing this chance of helping her family, she went homewards. Her way was a very lonely one, and led her across the spurs of mountains, just as they dipped down into the moorland, and long before she drew near home, darkness fell.

Suddenly, as she was hurrying onwards, a man joined her whom she had never before seen. “Good evening, mistress,” said he, “Good evening,” said she, and as he still continued to walk by her side, and talk to her, she told him of the great disappointment she had just met with. “No one has hired you!” cried he. “Why, what wages do you want?” She told him the amount, and be said, “I will hire you; you shall come to me, and here are your arles” (God’s-penny). The girl had been very glad when he said that he would hire her; but as he put the money in her hand, she shivered all over, and felt that there was something awful about this stranger. She took the arles, however, and then he told her that at twelve o’clock on the following night she was to come to him at a place very near her father’s house, where four roads met. When she got home she told her father and mother what she had done, and what she thought about this stranger, and they too were much alarmed and convinced that he was the Devil. They sent for the priest, who came in the morning. He, too, said that the stranger was the Devil, but declared that the girl must keep her word with him.

So when night came she went to the place where the four roads met, and by the priest’s orders, drew a circle, and stood within it, saying always the Lord’s Prayer and Ave Maria. At midnight there was a loud clap of thunder, and an angry flash of forked lightning, and immediately after a host of horrible black fiends rushed forward against her, screaming and gesticulating as if they would rend her in pieces. Her alarm was intense; but somehow she was just able to remember that the priest had told her never for a moment to cease praying, and making the sign of the cross, and never by any chance to allow herself to be terrified into overstepping the limits of the circle. She was likewise not to turn her back to her enemies. They, for their part, did their utmost to make her leave the circle and to weary her out with terror, that she might lose all power of resisting them. Sometimes they attacked her in front, sometimes behind, rushing madly on her, making the most horrible faces, uttering the most horrible cries, glaring at her with fierce fiery eyes, or seeming about to claw her forth and destroy her. Over and over again she felt as if she must faint for very weariness, or turn and fall into their power, but at length after many hours, a pale light in the sky showed that day would ere long dawn, and a cock crowed, on which all vanished, and she was delivered.]

In the valley of Geslinger dwelt a very rich widow, who had an only son, who was heavy-headed and dull-witted, and the most foolish of all the dwellers in this valley. This same dolt once upon a time saw at Saarbruck the daughter of a noble man of high repute. The fool fell in love with her at once, and charged his mother to get this girl to be his wife, or else be would beat in all the stoves and windows, and break up all the stairs in the house. The mother was well aware what a stupid head her son had, and feared that even if she did seek this young girl in marriage for him, and gave him a large amount of property as well, he would still be such an uncouth ass that nothing could ever be made of him. However, as the girl’s parents, though noble and of good family, were so ill off that their poverty made them unable to provide for her in a manner suitable to her station, this part of the wooing was more easily managed. But then the mother feared that as her son was such a great clumsy blockhead, perhaps the girl would not have him, and gave him all kinds of instructions so that he might be able to behave courteously and attentively to the bride.

The first time this blockhead has any conversation with the girl she gives him a beautiful pair of gloves of soft Spanish leather. The yokel puts them on, and then it begins to rain heavily; but he keeps the gloves on and goes home; it is all the same to him whether they get wet or not. When he is crossing a plank, he slips off, and falls into the water and mud. He arrives at home very dirty, and his gloves have become mere pulp. He complains to his mother. The good old mother scolds him and says he ought to have wrapped them in his pocket-handkerchief and have thrust them in his breast.

Soon afterwards the worthy young goose again goes to see the girl. She enquires about the gloves, and he tells her what has happened. She laughs, notes this first proof of his wisdom, and presents him with a hawk. He takes it, goes home, and remembering his mother’s words, strangles the hawk, folds him up in his neckerchief and puts him in his breast. Having arrived at home, he wants to show his mother the beautiful bird, and draws it out of his breast. The mother again takes him to task, and says that he ought to have carried it carefully on his hand.

The yokel goes a third time to see the girl, who asks how the hawk is, and he tells her what he did to it. She thinks “He is an absolute fool!” and seeing plainly that nothing delicate or beautiful is suitable to him, makes him a present of a harrow, which he is to use when he has sown his corn. He has laid to heart his mother’s words, and like a stupid fellow carries it home in his hands. His mother is anything but pleased, and says that he should have tied it to a horse and have had it dragged home.

At length the girl sees that chrism and baptism have been thrown away on him, for there is neither reason nor understanding in him, and not knowing how to get rid of the fool, gives him a great piece of bacon and thrusts it in his bosom, and he is quite satisfied. He wants to go home, but is afraid of losing it out of his breast, so he ties it to a horse’s tail, mounts the horse, and rides home. Then the dogs run after him and tear the bacon from the horse’s tail and devour it. He reaches home, but the bacon is gone. The mother sees in this more of her son’s wisdom, fears the wedding will never take place, goes to the girl’s parents, and requests to know the day when the formal demand in marriage can be made; but before she goes away, she earnestly charges him to keep house well, and not to make a great deal of noise, for she has a goose sitting on some eggs.

As soon as his mother is out of the house, Hans goes into the cellar, drinks his fill of wine and loses the tap of the cask, and while he is looking for it, all the wine runs out in the cellar. The clever fellow takes a sack of flour and empties it on the wine that his mother may not see it when she comes. Then he goes back to the house and is violently sick. The goose is sitting there on her eggs and is terrified, and cries, “Gaga! gaga! “the stupid fellow is seized with alarm, and thinks the goose is saying, “I will tell about it,” and fears she will tattle about how he has behaved in the cellar, so he cuts off her head. He is afraid that the eggs will be destroyed too, and then he will be in a peck of troubles; and thinks it over, and makes up his mind to sit on the eggs himself, but after all thinks he would not be able to manage that as he is not covered with feathers like the goose. He soon has a good thought, undresses himself entirely, smears his body all over with some honey his mother has just made, and then empties a bed and rolls himself all over in the feathers till he looks like a tomtit, and then he sits down upon the goose’s eggs and is perfectly quiet lest he should frighten the young geese. While this buffoon is thus sitting, his mother arrives and knocks at the door. The dolt sits on the eggs and will give no answer; she knocks again, so he calls out “Gaga! gaga!” thinking that as he is sitting on young geese (or fools) he can’t speak in any other way. At length his mother threatens him so severely that he creeps out of the nest, and lets her in. As soon as she sees him, she thinks it is the Devil himself, and asks what it means, and he tells her everything in the order in which it occurred. The mother is very anxious about this great fool, for the bride is soon to follow, so she tells him she will willingly forgive him, and that he is to behave himself well now for the bride is coming, and that he must receive and greet her in a really friendly manner, and be always casting kind eyes on her.

Appendix A