“I have only fifty marks,” said Johannes, “it is my inheritance from my father. I will give it to you if you will promise me to let the dead man lie in peace. I can get along without money, I am strong and God will help me.”
“Yes,” sneered the wicked men, “if you will pay his debts, we shan’t harm him.” They took Johannes’ money and, laughing at his goodness, went on their way. Johannes put the dead man back into his coffin, folded the cold hands, and then as happily as ever entered the dark forest just beyond the church.
The moonlight shone down through the leaves of the trees and Johannes saw the little elves playing, for they did not mind his coming. They knew he was a good and innocent human being; only from evil and dishonest people do the elves hide. Some of them were no bigger than Johannes’ finger. Their long yellow hair was held in place by golden combs. Two by two, they would swing on the drops of dew that clung to the leaves and the tops of the high grass. Sometimes the dewdrops would roll down in among the grass and how the elves would laugh. Oh, it was a joy to watch them! They sang all the songs that Johannes had learned when he was a child. Colorful spiders, with silver crowns on their heads, spun palaces and bridges from bush to bush, which caught the dew and looked like glass in the moonlight. The elves played the whole night through; only when the sun rose did they climb back into their flowers. Then the wind grabbed their bridges and palaces and carried them high into the air as flying spider webs.
Johannes had just come out of the forest when he heard someone call behind him, “Wait, where are you going?”
“Out into the wide world,” answered Johannes. “I am a poor fellow who has neither father nor mother, but I am sure that God will help me.”
“I want to go out in the wide world too,” said the stranger. “Let’s be traveling companions.”
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Johannes, and so they went on together.
It took no time for them to become fond of each other, for they were both good and kind. Johannes soon realized that the stranger was much wiser than he; he seemed to be able to talk about everything and to have been everywhere. There was hardly anything that existed that he did not know something about.
The sun was high in the sky when they stopped to rest under a large tree. There they ate their lunch. Just as they were finishing, an old woman came hobbling along. Her back was bent and she had a crutch under one arm. Strapped to her back was a bundle of firewood, which she had gathered in the forest; and in her apron, which she had tied together to make a little sack, there were three bunches of birch switches. Suddenly she slipped and fell. She screamed, for she had broken her leg. The poor woman!
Johannes suggested that they carry her to her home, but the stranger opened his knapsack and took out a little jar. In this there was a salve which he said could cure her leg, make it whole and well again, so that she could walk home by herself, as if her leg had never been broken. As payment he wanted the three bunches of birch switches she carried in her apron.
“You want to be well paid,” said the old woman, and nodded very strangely. She did not want to give up her switches, yet it was not pleasant to lie there on the road with a broken leg, so she gave the switches to the stranger. As soon as he had rubbed a little salve on her leg she was up and walking better than she had before. It was an unusual salve, not the kind that you can buy at the pharmacy.
“What will you do with the switches?” asked Johannes.
“Oh, I just took a fancy to them because I am a strange fellow, I suppose,” said the wayfarer, and they walked on in silence.
“Look at those heavy, dark clouds,” remarked Johannes, pointing to the horizon. “We are in for a storm.”
“No,” laughed his companion, “they are not clouds, they are mountains. Beautiful high mountains which one can climb right up into the sky, where the air is always fresh. They are marvelous, believe me. Tomorrow we shall reach that far out in the wide world.”
But the mountains were farther away than they thought; it was the next evening before they came to the foothills. Here started the great black forests that covered most of the mountainsides. There were boulders as large as whole villages. It would not be easy to cross these mountains; therefore Johannes’ traveling companion suggested that they stay at an inn for the night to be fresh for the morning’s climb.
In the public room of the inn a crowd had gathered; a traveling puppet theater was just about to give a performance. The spectators sat in rows facing the little stage. In the first row was a fat old butcher. He had taken the best seat and next to him sat his dog, a ferocious-looking bulldog.
The comedy began. It was a very nice play with a king and a queen in it. They sat on a throne and had golden crowns on their heads. The queen had a long dress that trailed behind her; it was expensive but she could afford it. Wooden dolls with handlebar mustaches and glass eyes stood at the doors, opening and closing them in order to air the room. It was a lovely comedy with nothing tragic about it at all; but just as the queen was crossing the stage the bulldog—God knows what the dog was thinking; his master, in any case, was not holding onto him—jumped right up on the stage and grabbed the queen by her waist with his great jaws. Crunch! Crack! It was a tragedy after all!
The poor man who owned the puppet theater and had played all the parts was beside himself with misery. The queen was the most beautiful of all his dolls and now the bulldog had beheaded her. When all the rest of the audience had gone, Johannes’ traveling companion said that he would repair the doll. He took out his little jar and put some salve on it. It was the same salve that had helped the poor woman when she broke her leg. As soon as the salve had been smeared on the doll she was whole again, but that was not all! The doll could move her little limbs by herself. The puppeteer was delighted; now he didn’t have to pull her strings any more. The queen could dance by herself and that was more than any of the other dolls could do.
When night came and everyone at the inn had gone to bed, deep and sorrowful sighs were heard. The lamenting kept on, and finally they all got up to see what was the matter. The sighing came from the theater. The puppeteer opened the box that was also the small stage. All the wooden dolls were lying in a great heap. There were the king and his followers, and it was they who were sighing so mournfully. They stared with their glass eyes out into the darkness; they wanted to be rubbed with the magic salve so they, too, would be able to move and dance like the queen.
The queen kneeled down and held out her golden crown, while she spoke: “Please take this in return for putting some salve on my husband and his courtiers.”
The puppeteer, who owned the theater and all the dolls, felt so sad that he cried, and promised the wayfarer that he would give him all the money he received the following night if only he would smear a little salve on four or five of the other dolls. Johannes’ friend said he cared not for money; what he wanted was the old sword that the theater director had hanging from his belt. As soon as it was given to him, he rubbed a little salve on six of the dolls. They started instantly to dance so prettily that all the real people, who had been standing about watching them, began to dance too. The coachman danced with the cook, and the waiters with the maids. The poker tried to dance with the little brass shovel that stood by the fireplace; but they didn’t dance far: they fell with a clatter after they had taken their first step. It was an exciting night!
The next day Johannes and his friend left the inn and started to climb the mountains. Upward they went through the dark forest of fir trees, until the church steeples in the valley looked like little red berries amidst all the greenery below them. They could see far and wide; before them were views of dozens of places where they had not been. Johannes had never seen so much of the beautiful world all at once. The sun shone down from a cloudless blue sky. From the valleys they heard the sound of the hunters’ horns; the melody was so beautiful that tears came into his eyes and he could not help saying out loud: “Oh, God, I could kiss you for your kindness to us
all, for having given us such a beautiful world to live in!”
His companion had also folded his hands and was looking out over the forest and the towns. All at once they heard a strange but pleasant sound above them; they looked up. There was a great white swan and the beautiful bird was singing as they had never heard a bird sing before. But its voice grew weaker and weaker; and finally it bent its head toward its body and fell to the ground, right at their feet. There the lovely bird lay, dead.
“What wonderful wings!” cried the wayfarer. “A pair of wings as white and large as those must be worth a lot. I shall have them! It is fortunate I have a sword.” With a single stroke he cut off both of the dead swan’s wings, and now they were his.
They traveled mile after mile, and yet they still were in the mountains. At last they came to a large town. More than a hundred towers shone as if they were made of silver, while the sunlight played upon them. In the middle of the town there was a great marble castle with a roof of gold, and that was where the king lived.
Johannes and his friend stopped at an inn outside the walls because they wanted to wash and change their clothes before entering the city. The innkeeper told them that the king was a very kind and friendly man who never did anyone any harm; but what a daughter he had! Oh, God preserve us, she was a horrible princess! Oh, she was beautiful enough. There was no one lovelier to look at; but what good was that when she was as cruel and wicked as any witch, and had already caused the death of many a fine prince? She had proclaimed that anyone could propose to her—prince or beggar alike. She didn’t care who her suitor was; all he had to do to win her hand and become king when her father died was to answer correctly three questions that she asked him; but if he failed, then he must have his head chopped off or be hanged—that’s how heartless the beautiful princess was.
Her poor old father was very sad indeed, but he could do nothing about it, for once, long ago, he had promised her never to interfere in the manner she chose a husband. Every prince who had come to woo the princess had failed to guess the correct answers to her questions and had been either beheaded or hanged; but there was not one who had not been warned beforehand, and he need not have proposed. Still the old king was so upset and sorry about all the suffering that once a year he spent a whole day on his knees and ordered his whole army to do the same. They prayed that the princess would become good, but she didn’t. The old ladies who drank schnapps colored it black to show that they were in mourning, and that was the most they could do.
“What a horrible princess,” said Johannes. “She should be switched, that is what she deserves. If I were the old king, I would beat her until I drew blood.”
Just at that moment they heard the people outside shouting, “Hurrah!” The princess was riding by. She was so beautiful that anyone who looked at her forgot how wicked she was; and that’s why everyone was now shouting, “Hurrah!” Twelve lovely maidens in white silk dresses, with golden tulips in their hands, riding on jet-black horses, were with her. The princess herself rode a milk-white horse; its bridle was set with rubies and diamonds. Her dress was of the purest gold, and the whip she carried in her hand looked like a sunbeam. The golden crown on her head was like the stars of heaven, and her cape was made out of thousands of butterfly wings; and yet she was far more beautiful than all her clothes.
When Johannes saw her, his face became as red as blood dripping from a wound and he could not utter a word. The princess looked like the girl with a golden crown that he had dreamed about the night his father died. She was so beautiful, and he already loved her so much, that he could not believe that she was an evil witch who ordered men to be beheaded or hanged, because they could not guess the answers to the questions she asked them.
“Anyone can propose to her, even a poor man like me. I will go to the castle, for nothing can stop me from going,” Johannes announced.
Everyone begged him not to go, for they all agreed that he would fare no better than the others who had tried; even his traveling companion advised him against it, but Johannes was not to be dissuaded. He brushed his clothes, polished his shoes, and combed his yellow hair; then he went alone into the town and straight up to the castle.
“Come in!” called the old king when Johannes came knocking.
Johannes opened the door to the castle, and the old king, wearing a dressing gown and embroidered slippers, welcomed him. The king had his golden crown on his head, his scepter in one hand, and the golden apple of state in the other. “Wait a moment,” he said, while he tucked the apple under his arm so that he could shake hands with Johannes. But as soon as he heard that it was another suitor who had come, he started to cry so bitterly that both the apple and the scepter fell on the floor, and he had to dry his eyes with his dressing gown. Poor old king!
“Don’t do it!” he begged. “You will be no more fortunate than any of the others. Come and see!” And he led Johannes into the princess’ private garden. Ugh! It was a horrible sight! In every tree were hanging the bodies of three or four princes who had proposed marriage to the princess but had not been able to answer the three questions she asked. When the wind blew, their skeletons rattled and made such a racket that they frightened all the birds, so that none ever flew into the garden. The vines wound themselves around human bones, and grinning skulls filled the flowerpots instead of flowers. Wasn’t that a fine garden for a princess!
“Look around you,” said the king. “You will end up like all the others. So please, please don’t propose to my daughter; it really makes me very unhappy, I am very sensitive on that point.”
Johannes kissed the old king’s hand and said that he was sure everything would be all right, for he was very much in love with the lovely princess.
At that moment the princess came riding into the castle yard followed by all her ladies in waiting. The king and Johannes went out to greet her. How beautiful she was as she gave Johannes her hand. Now he was even more in love than he had been before; surely, she could not be a cruel and wicked witch. They all went up into the great hall and there the page boys served cookies and jam. But the old king was so sad that he didn’t eat anything; besides, he thought the cookies were too hard.
It was decided that Johannes was to come to the castle the next morning and there in front of the judges and the king’s council answer the question the princess would ask. If he could answer it, then he would have to come back and answer two more questions on the two following days, but no one as yet had ever answered the princess’ first question, so the day she asked it had been the last of their lives.
Johannes was not worried or frightened about what was going to happen. He was happily dreaming about the beautiful princess. He was confident that God would help him, though he didn’t know exactly how; nor did he give it much thought as he skipped through the streets on his way back to the inn, where his friend was waiting for him.
Johannes could not stop talking about how beautiful the princess was and how kindly she had received him. He longed for the next day when he would see her again and try his luck at guessing the answer to her question.
His friend shook his head; he was not happy. “I am very fond of you,” he said. “We could have remained together a long time yet, and now I have to lose you. Poor, dear Johannes, I feel like crying but shan’t do it. It would spoil our last evening together, so let us be happy. Let’s be gay; tomorrow when you are gone there will be time for my tears.”
The whole town had heard that the princess had a new suitor, and they all went into mourning. The theater was closed, and the little old ladies who sold candy put black crepe around their chocolate pigs. The king and all the priests went to church and prayed on their knees. Everyone was miserable, for no one believed that poor Johannes would fare better than all the other suitors had.
Late in the evening the wayfarer ordered a bowl of punch and said to Johannes that now they ought to drink to the health of the princess. When Johannes had drunk his second glass, he was so tired that he no longer
could keep his eyes open and fell asleep. His friend lifted him gently from the chair and laid him on the bed.
When the darkest hour of the night had almost come, Johannes’ friend tied the swan’s wings on his back and stuck into his pocket the largest bunch of switches that he had got from the old lady for curing her leg. He opened the window and flew out over the town to the royal castle, where he landed on the balcony of the princess and hid in a corner next to her window.
The clock in the tower struck the quarter before the hour; it would soon be midnight. The whole town was still. Suddenly the princess’ window opened and out she flew, her white cape trailing behind her; on her back were a pair of large black wings. The wayfarer made himself invisible so that no one could see him. Behind the princess he flew, whipping her so hard that he drew blood. She was flying toward the big black mountain beyond the city. The wind took hold of her cape and spread it out like the sail of a ship, and the moon shone through it.
“Oh, how it is hailing! How it is hailing!” moaned the princess every time the switches hit her back.
Finally, when she reached the mountain, she knocked on it as if it were a door. The mountain rumbled like thunder and opened itself so the princess could enter. Right behind her was Johannes’ friend, though she could not see him, for he was invisible.
They were walking through a long, high corridor. The walls were lighted curiously by the glow of red spiders who ran up and down like little flames. Now they were in a great hall built of silver and gold. Along the walls was a row of blue and red flowers, as large as sunflowers; but one could not pick them, for their stems were snakes and their faces were the fire shooting out of the snakes’ mouths. The ceilings were studded with glowworms and sky-blue bats whose thin, fragile wings beat constantly. What a strange sight! In the middle of the hall stood a throne, which rested on the skeletons of four horses; their bridles were made of red spiders. The seat of the throne itself was milk-white glass, and the pillows were little black mice who were biting each other’s tails. Above it was a canopy made of pink spider webs, decorated with little green flies that shone like precious stones. On the throne sat an old troll with a crown on his ugly head and a scepter in his hand. He kissed the princess on the forehead and invited her to sit down beside him on the throne.
The Complete Fairy Tales Page 7