“We will think about that,” said she, and with that they went to bed.
The next morning the wife woke up just as it was day, and looked out over the fine country which lay before her. Her husband did not get up, and there she stood with her arms a-kimbo, and called out, “Get up, and come and look here at the window; see, shall I not be Queen over all the land? Go, and say to the Flounder, “We choose to be King and Queen.” “Ah, wife,” said he, “why should I wish to be King?” “No,” she replied, “you do not wish, so I will be Queen. Go, tell the Flounder so.”
“Oh why do you wish this? I cannot say it.”
“Why not? go off at once; I must be Queen.” The husband set out quite stupefied, but she would have her way, and when he came to the sea it was quite black-looking, and the water splashed up and smelled very disagreeably. But he stood still, and repeated,
“Flounder, Flounder in the sea,
Hither quickly come to me,
For my wife, dame Isabel,
Wishes what I scarce dare tell.”
“What does she want now?” asked the Flounder. “Ah!” said he, “she would be Queen.” “Go home, she is so already,” replied the fish. So he departed, and when he came near the palace he saw it had become much larger, with a great tower and gateway in front of it; and before the gate stood a herald, and there were many soldiers, with kettledrums and trumpets. When he came into the house he found everything made of the purest marble and gold; with magnificent curtains, fringed with gold. Through the hall he went in at the doors where the great court apartment was, and there sat his wife upon a high throne of gold and diamonds; having a crown of gold upon her head, and a sceptre of precious stones in her hand; and upon each side stood six pages, in a row, each one a head taller than the other. Then he went up, and said, “Ah! wife, are you Queen now?” “Yes,” said she, “now I am Queen!” There he stood looking for a long time. At last he said, “Ah, wife, how do you like being Queen? Now we have nothing else to choose.” “No, indeed!” she replied, “I am very dissatisfied; time and tide do not wait for me; I can bear it no longer, Go then to the flounder; Queen I am; now I must be Pope.” “Ah, wife! what would you? Pope thou canst not be, the Pope is the head of Christendom, the Flounder cannot make you that.”
“I will be Pope,” replied the Wife, and he was obliged to go, and, when he came to the shore, the sea was running mountains high, and the sky was so black that he was quite terrified, and began to say in a great fright,
“Flounder, Flounder in the sea,
Quickly, quickly come to me,
For my wife, dame Isabel,
Wishes what I scarce dare tell.”
“What now?” asked the Flounder. “She wants to be Pope,” said he. “Go home, and find her so,” was the reply.
So he went back, and found a great church, in which she was sitting upon a much higher throne, with two rows of candles on each side, some as thick as towers, down to those no bigger than rushlights, and before her footstool were Kings and Queens kneeling. “Wife,” said he, “now be contented: since you are Pope, you cannot be any thing else.” “That I will consider about,” she replied, and so they went to bed; but she could not sleep for thinking what she should be next. Very early she rose and looked out of the window, and, as she saw the sun rising, she thought to herself, “Why should I not do that?” and so she shook her husband, and called out to him, “Go, tell the Flounder I want to make the sun rise.” Her husband was so frightened that he tumbled out of bed, but she would hear nothing, and he was obliged to go.
When he got down to the sea a tremendous storm was raging, and the ships and boats were tossing about in all directions. Then he shouted out, but still he could not hear his own words,
“Flounder, Flounder in the sea,
Quickly, quickly come to me,
For my wife, dame Isabel,
Wishes what I scarce dare tell.”
“What would she have now?” said the Fish. “Ah!” he replied, “she wants to be Ruler of the Universe.”
“Return, and find her back in her hovel,” replied the Flounder.
And there the fisherman and his wife remained for the rest of their days.
The Valiant Little Tailor3
(SEVEN AT ONE BLOW)
One summer’s morning a Tailor was sitting on his bench by the window in very good spirits, sewing away with all his might, and presently up the street came a peasant woman, crying, “Good preserves for sale. Good preserves for sale.” This cry sounded nice in the Tailor’s ears, and sticking his diminutive head out of the window he called out, “Here, my good woman, just bring your wares here.” The woman mounted the three steps up to the Tailor’s house with her heavy basket, and began to unpack all the pots together before him. He looked at them all, held them up to the light, put his nose to them, and at last said, “These preserves appear to me to be very nice, so you may weigh me out four half-ounces, my good woman; I don’t mind even if you make it a quarter of a pound.” The woman, who expected to have met with a good customer, gave him what he wished, and went away grumbling, very much dissatisfied.
“Now,” exclaimed the Tailor, “Heaven will send me a blessing on this preserve, and give me fresh strength and vigour;” and taking the bread out of the cupboard he cut himself a slice the size of the whole loaf, and spread the preserve upon it. “That will taste by no means bad,” said he; “but, before I have a bite, I will just get this waistcoat finished.” So he laid the bread down near him, and stitched away, making larger and larger stitches every time for joy. Meanwhile the smell of the preserve mounted to the ceiling, where flies were sitting in great numbers, and enticed them down, so that soon a regular swarm of them had settled on the bread. “Holloa, who invited you?” exclaimed the Tailor, hunting away the unbidden guests; but the flies, not understanding his language, would not be driven off, and came again in greater numbers than before. This put the little man in a boiling passion, and snatching up in his rage a rag of cloth he brought it down with an unmerciful swoop upon them. When he raised it again he counted no less than seven lying dead before him with outstretched legs. “What a fellow you are!” said he to himself, wondering at his own bravery. “The whole town shall know of this.” In great haste he cut himself out a band, hemmed it, and then put on it in large characters, “SEVEN AT ONE BLOW.” “Ah!” said he, “not one city alone, the whole world shall know it;” and his heart fluttered with joy, like a lambkin’s tail.
The little Tailor bound the belt round his body, and prepared to travel forth into the wide world, thinking the workshop too small for his valiant deeds. Before he set out, however, he looked round his house to see if there was any thing he could take with him; but he found only an old cheese, which he pocketed; and, remarking a bird before the door which was entangled in the bushes, he caught it and put that in his pocket also. Directly after he set out bravely on his travels; and, as he was light and active, he felt no weariness. His road led up a hill, and when he reached the highest point of it, he found a great Giant sitting there, who was looking about him very composedly!
The little Tailor, however, went boldly up, and said, “Good-day, comrade; in faith you sit there and see the whole world stretched below you. I am also on the road thither to try my luck. Have you a mind to go with me?”
The Giant looked contemptuously at the little Tailor, and said, “You vagabond, you miserable fellow!”
“That may be,” replied the Tailor; “but here you may read what sort of a man I am:” and unbuttoning his coat he showed the Giant his belt. The Giant read, “Seven at one blow;” and thinking they were men whom the Tailor had slain, he conceived a little respect for him. Still he wished to prove him first, so taking up a stone he squeezed it in his hand so that water dropped out of it. “Do that after me,” said he to the other, “if you have any strength.”
“If it be nothing worse than that,” said the Tailor, “that’s play to me.” And diving into his pocket, he brought out the cheese, and s
queezed it till the whey ran out of it, and said, “Now I think that’s a little better.”
The Giant did not know what to say, and could not believe it of the little man; so, taking up another stone, he threw it so high that one could scarcely see it with the eye, saying, “There, you manikin, do that after me.”
“Well done,” said the Tailor; “but your stone must fall down again to the ground. I will throw one up which shall not come back:” and dipping into his pocket he took out the bird and threw it into the air. The bird, rejoicing in its freedom, flew straight up, and then far away, and did not return. “How does that little affair please you, comrade?” asked the Tailor.
“You can throw well, certainly,” replied the Giant; “now let us see if you are in trim to carry something out of the common.” So saying, he led him to a huge oak-tree, which lay upon the ground, and said, “If you are strong enough, just help me to carry this tree out of the forest.”
“With all my heart,” replied the Tailor; “do you take the trunk upon your shoulder, and I will raise the boughs and branches, which are the heaviest, and carry them.”
The Giant took the trunk upon his shoulder, but the Tailor placed himself on a branch, so that the Giant, who was not able to look round, was forced to carry the whole tree, and the Tailor besides. He, being behind, was very merry, and chuckled at the trick, and presently began to whistle the song, “There rode three Tailors out at the gate,” as if the carrying of trees were child’s play. The Giant, after he had staggered along a short distance with his heavy burden, could go no further, and shouted out, “Do you hear? I must let the tree fall.” The Tailor, springing down, quickly embraced the tree with both arms, as if he had been carrying it, and said to the Giant, “Are you such a big fellow, and yet cannot you carry this tree by yourself?”
Then they journeyed on farther, and as they came to a cherry tree the Giant seized the top of the tree where the ripest fruits hung, and bending it down gave it to the Tailor to hold, bidding him eat. But the Tailor was much too weak to hold the tree down, and when the Giant let go, the tree flew up into the air, and the Tailor was carried with it. He came down on the other side, however, without injury, and the Giant said, “What does that mean? Have you not strength enough to hold that twig?” “My strength did not fail me,” replied the Tailor; “do you suppose that that was any hard thing for one who has killed seven at one blow? I have sprung over the tree because the hunters were shooting below there in the thicket. Spring after me, if you can.” The Giant made the attempt, but could not clear the tree, and stuck fast in the branches; so that in this affair, too, the Tailor was the better man.
After this the Giant said, “Since you are such a valiant fellow, come with me to our house and stop a night with us.” The Tailor consented and followed him; and when they entered the cave, there sat by the fire two other Giants, each having a roast sheep in his hand, of which he was eating. The Tailor sat down, thinking, “Ah, this is much more like the world than is my work-shop.” And soon the Giant showed him a bed where he might lie down and go to sleep. The bed, however, was too big for him. So he slipped out of it and crept into a corner. When midnight came, and the Giant thought the Tailor would be in a deep sleep, he got up, and taking a great iron bar beat the bed right through at one stroke, and supposed he had thereby given the Tailor his death-blow. At the earliest dawn of morning the Giants went forth into the forest, and quite forgetting the Tailor, when presently up he came, quite merry, and showed himself before them. The Giants were terrified, and, fearing he would kill them all, they ran away in great haste.
The Tailor journeyed on, always following his nose, and after he had wandered some long distance, he came into the courtyard of a royal palace, and as he felt rather tired he laid himself down on the grass and went to sleep. Whilst he lay there, the people came and viewed him on all sides, and read upon his belt, “Seven at one blow.” “Ah!” said they, “what does this great warrior here in time of peace! This must be some mighty hero.” So they went and told the King, thinking that, should war break out, here was an important and useful man whom one ought not to part with at any price. The King took counsel, and sent one of his courtiers to the Tailor to ask for his fighting services, if he should be awake. The messenger stopped at the sleeper’s side, and waited till he stretched out his limbs and opened his eyes, and then he laid before him his message. “Solely on that account did I come here,” was the reply; “I am quite ready to enter into the King’s service.” Then he was conducted away with great honour, and a fine house was appointed him to dwell in.
The courtiers, however, became jealous of the Tailor, and wished he was a thousand miles away. “What will happen?” said they one to another. “If we go to battle with him, when he strikes out, seven will fall at every blow, so that no one of us will be left!” In their rage they came to a resolution to resign, and they went all together to the King, and asked his permission, saying, “We are not prepared to keep company with a man who kills seven at one blow.” The King was grieved to lose all his faithful servants for the sake of one, and wished that he had never seen the Tailor; and would willingly have now been rid of him. He dared not, however, dismiss him, because he feared the Tailor would kill him and all his subjects, and place himself upon the throne. For a long time he deliberated, till at last he came to a decision; and, sending for the Tailor, he told him that seeing he was so great an hero, he wished to make a request of him. “In a certain forest in my kingdom,” said the King, “there live two Giants, who, by murder, rapine, fire, and robbery, have committed great havoc, and no one dares to approach them without perilling his own life. If you overcome and kill both these Giants, I will give you my only daughter in marriage, and the half of my kingdom for a dowry: a hundred knights shall accompany you, too, in order to render you assistance.”
“Ah! that is something for a such a man as I,” thought the Tailor to himself; “a beautiful princess and half a kingdom are not offered to one every day.” “Oh, yes,” he replied, “I will soon manage these two Giants, and a hundred horsemen are not necessary for that purpose; he who kills seven at one blow, need not fear two.”
Thus talking, the little Tailor set out followed by the hundred knights, to whom he said, as soon as they came to the borders of the forest, “Do you stay here; I would rather meet these Giants alone.” Then off he sprang into the forest, peering about him right and left; and after awhile he saw the two Giants lying asleep under a tree, snoring so loudly that the branches above them shook violently. The Tailor, full of courage, filled both his pockets with stones, and clambered up the tree. When he got to the middle of it, he crept along a bough, so that he sat just above the sleepers, and then he let fall one stone after another upon the breast of one of them. For some time the Giant did not stir, until, at last awakening, he pushed his companion and said, “Why are you beating me?”
“You are dreaming,” he replied; “I never hit you.” They laid themselves down again to sleep, and presently the Tailor threw a stone down upon the other. “What is that?” he exclaimed. “What are you knocking me for?”
“I did not touch you; you must dream,” replied the first. In a little while they sank down again to sleep, and because they were very tired they soon shut their eyes again. Then the Tailor began his sport again, and, picking out the biggest stone, threw it with all his force upon the breast of the first Giant. “That is too bad,” he exclaimed; and springing up like a madman, he fell upon his companion, who, reckoning with equal measure, they set to in such good earnest that they rooted up trees, and beat one another until they both fell dead upon the ground. Now the Tailor jumped down, saying, “What a piece of luck they did not uproot the tree on which I sat, or else I must have jumped on another like a squirrel, for I am not given to flying.” Then he drew his sword, and, cutting a deep wound in the breast of each, he went to the horsemen and said, “The deed is done; I have given each his death-stroke; but it was a hard job, for in their necessity they have uprooted
trees to defend themselves with; still all that is no use when such an one as I come, who kill seven at every stroke.”
“Are you not wounded, then?” asked they.
“That is not to be expected; they have not touched a hair on my head,” replied the little man. The knights could scarcely believe him, and so, riding away into the forest, they found the Giants lying in their blood, and the uprooted trees around them.
Now the Tailor desired his promised reward of the King; but he repented of his promise, and began to think of some new scheme to get rid of the hero. “Before you receive my daughter and the half of my kingdom,” said he to him, “you must perform one other heroic deed. In the forest there runs wild an unicorn, which commits great havoc, and whom you must first of all catch.”
“I fear still less for an unicorn than I do for two Giants! Seven at one blow! that is my motto,” said the Tailor. Then he took with him a rope and an axe, and went away to the forest, bidding those who were ordered to accompany him to wait on the outskirts. He had not to search long, for presently the unicorn came near and prepared to rush at him, as if he would pierce him on the spot. “Softly, softly,” he exclaimed; “that is not done so easily;” and, waiting till the animal was close upon him, he sprang nimbly behind a tree. The unicorn, rushing with all its force against the tree, fixed its horn so fast in the trunk that it could not draw it out again, and so it was made prisoner. “Now I have got my bird,” said the Tailor; and coming from behind the tree, he first bound the rope around his neck, and then, cutting the horn out of the tree with his axe, he put all in order; and, leading the animal, brought it before the King.
The King, however, would not yet deliver up the promised reward, and making a third request, that before the wedding the Tailor should catch a wild boar which did much injury, and he should have the huntsmen to help him. “With pleasure,” was the reply; “it is mere child’s play.” The huntsmen, however, he left behind; and they were overjoyed to be there, for this wild boar had already so often hunted them that they had no pleasure in hunting it. As soon as the boar perceived the Tailor, it ran at him with gaping mouth and glistening teeth, and tried to throw him on the ground; but our flying hero sprang into a little chapel which was near, and out again at a window on the other side in a trice. The boar ran after him, but he, skipping round, shut the door behind it, and there the raging beast was caught, for it was much too unwieldy and heavy to jump out of the window. The Tailor now called the huntsmen up, that they might see his prisoner with their own eyes; but our hero presented himself before the King, who was compelled now, whether he would or no, to keep his promise, and surrender his daughter and the half of his kingdom.
Grimm's Fairy Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 12