Grimm's Fairy Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Brothers Grimm

  Now was the Man obliged to take up with his old trade of fishing, and fortune so favoured him that he pulled out a second time the golden Fish. “Alas!” said the Fish, “let me go again, and I will give you back your castle, with the cupboard of meat and wine; only keep it secret and reveal not on any account from whence they spring, or again you will lose all.”

  “I will take care,” replied the Fisherman, and threw the Fish into the water. At home immediately everything was in its former splendour, and the wife rejoiced at her good fortune; but her curiosity could not rest, and after a couple of days she began to plague her husband again to tell her the source of their prosperity. For a long time the man held his tongue, but at length he got into such a passion that he broke out and told the secret. At the same moment the castle disappeared, and they found themselves in the old hut. “There, are you satisfied now?” said the Man to his Wife; “now we may feel the pangs of hunger again.” “Ah,” she replied, “I would rather not have wealth at all than not know whence it comes; for then I have no peace of mind.”

  The Man went fishing again, and in a few days he was lucky enough to pull up the golden Fish for the third time. “Well, well,” said the Fish, “I see I am fated to fall into your hands, so take me home, and cut me into six pieces; two of which you must give to your wife to eat, two to your horse, and two you must put in the ground, and then you will be blessed.”

  The Man took home the Fish, and did as it had said, and it happened that from the two pieces which he sowed in the ground two golden lilies grew up; from the eating of the two pieces by the mare, two golden foals were born; and from the wife’s eating of her share, she brought forth two golden children.

  The children grew up beautiful and fair, and with them the two lilies and the two foals; and one day the children said to their father, “We will mount our golden steeds and travel in the world.”

  But he replied sorrowfully, “How shall I manage, when you are out, to know how you are getting on?”

  “The two golden lilies,” said they, “will remain here, and by them you can see how we prosper; are they fresh, so are we well; do they droop, so are we ill; do they die, so are we dead.”

  With these words they rode away, and soon came to an inn wherein were many people, who, when they saw the two golden children, laughed at them mockingly. One of them, when he heard the jeers, was ashamed, and would not go onward, but turned round and went home to his father; while the other rode on till he came to a large forest. Just as he was about to ride into it, the people said to him, “You had better not go there, for the forest is full of robbers, who will act badly to you, and certainly when they see you are golden, and your horse too, they will kill you.”

  But the youth would not be frightened, and said, “I must and will go.”

  Then he took bear-skins, and covered with them himself and his horse; so that nothing golden could be seen, and, this done, he rode confidently into the wood. When he had ridden a little way he heard a rustling among the bushes, and soon distinguished voices talking to one another. One said, “Here comes one!” but another said, “Let him alone; he’s only a bear-hunter, and as poor and cold as a church mouse. What should we do with him?”

  So the Gold Child rode without danger through the forest, and came to no harm. Next it happened that he came to a village, wherein he saw a maiden so beautiful that he thought there could be no one more so in the world. He conceived a great love for her, and went to her and asked her whether she would be his wife. The maiden was very much pleased, and consented, saying, “Yes, I will become your wife, and be faithful to you all your life.” Then they celebrated the wedding together, and just as they were in the middle of their festivities the father of the bride returned, and, when he saw that his daughter was married, he asked, in great astonishment, where the bridegroom was? They showed him the Golden Child, who still wore his bear-skins around him, and the father exclaimed, “Never shall a bear-hunter marry my daughter,” and he would have murdered him. The bride begged for his life, saying, “He is my husband, and I love him with all my heart,” and she begged so piteously that her father at last spared him.

  The father, however, was always thinking about this man, and one morning he rose early in order to look at his daughter’s husband, and see whether he were a common and ragged beggar or no. But when he looked, behold there was a magnificent Golden Man in the bed, while the thrown-off bear-skin laid upon the ground. So the father went away, thinking “What a good thing it was I restrained my passion, or I should have made a grand mistake.”

  The same night the Gold Child dreamt that he hunted a fine stag, and, when he awoke in the morning, he said to his bride, “I must be off to the hunt!” She was grieved, and begged him to stay, and said, “A great misfortune may easily happen to you;” but he answered, “I must and will go!” So he rode away into the forest, and soon met a proud stag, just as he had dreamed. He aimed at it, and would have shot, but the stag sprang off. Then he followed it over hedges and ditches without wearying the whole day, and at evening it disappeared from his sight. When now the Gold Child looked round, he stood before a little house, wherein dwelt a Witch. He knocked at the door, and a little old woman came, and asked, “What are you doing so late in the midst of this forest?”

  “Have you not seen a stag?” he inquired.

  “Yes,” she replied; “I know the stag well:” and just then a little dog which was in-doors barked loudly at the stranger. “Will you be quiet, you rascally dog?” he cried; “or I will shoot you dead.” At this the Witch exclaimed in a great passion, “What! will you kill my dog?” and bewitched him at once, so that he lay there like a stone. His poor wife meanwhile waited for him in vain, and soon she thought, “Ah! what I feared in the anguish of my heavy heart has fallen upon him.”

  But at home the other brother stood by the golden lily, and suddenly one of them fell off. “Ah, Heaven!” said he, “some great misfortune has happened to my brother. I must be off, and see if, haply, I can save him.”

  But the father said, “Stop here. If I lose you too, what will become of me?”

  “I must and will go,” said the youth. So he mounted his golden horse, and rode away till he came to the large forest where his brother lay in the form of a stone. Out of her house came the old Witch, called to him, and would have enchanted him too, but he went not near her, but said “I will shoot you down if you do not restore to me my brother.”

  She was frightened, but still she acted very unwillingly, and, touching the stone with her fingers, the Gold Child took again his human form. The two Gold Children were overjoyed when they saw one another again, and kissed and embraced, and rode together out of the forest. There they parted—the one returned to his bride, and the other to his father. When the latter arrived, his father said to him, “I knew that you had saved your brother, for the golden lily all at once revived, and now flourishes again.”

  After this time they lived contentedly and happily, and all went well with them till the end of their lives.

  The Water-Sprite

  A little Boy and his Sister were once playing upon the edge of a stream, and both fell in. Under the water was a Sprite, who took them, saying, “Now I have got you I will make you work for me.” She gave the Maiden dirty and tangled flax to spin, and water to drink out of a hollow jar, while the Boy had to hew down a tree with a blunt axe, and received nothing to eat but stony lumps of sand. This treatment made the children so impatient, that they waited till one Sunday when the Water-Sprite was gone to church, and then they ran away. When the Sprite came out of church, therefore, she saw that her birds were flown, and set out after them with great leaps. But the little Girl threw behind her a large brush, with thousands and thousands of bristles, over which the Sprite could glide only with great difficulty, but at last she did so.

  As soon as the children saw her again, the Boy threw behind him a large comb, with thousands and thousands of teeth; but over this the Sprite glided at last, as she knew
how to save herself from the points.

  Then the little Girl threw behind a mirror, which seemed like a glass mountain, and was so very smooth that she could not possibly get over it.

  The Water-Sprite thought she would go home quickly, and fetch an axe, to cut in halves this glass rock; but when she returned the children had swam far enough away, and so the Sprite had to amuse herself as best she could.

  Brother Lustig

  Once there was a great war, which at last came to an end, and then many soldiers received their discharge, and amongst others was Brother Lustig, who was sent away with nothing else but a small loaf of ammunition-bread and four farthings in money. Now, a holy Saint dressed himself as a poor beggar, and sat by the roadside where Brother Lustig passed, and begged an alms of him. “My good beggar,” said the Soldier in reply, “what shall I give you? I have been in the army, and have just received my discharge with no other reward than a loaf of ammunition-bread and four farthings; and when those are done I also must beg; still, what I have, that will I share with you.” So saying, Brother Lustig divided the loaf into four parts, and gave one to the beggar, and also one farthing. The Saint thanked him, and, going further, sat himself down in the form of another beggar by the roadside. And when the Soldier came up he asked him as before for a gift. Brother Lustig replied just as he had to the first beggar, and gave again a fourth part of his bread and a farthing. The Saint thanked him, and, going still further, took the form of a third beggar, and asked for an alms; and Brother Lustig gave him the third share of his bread, and one of his two remaining farthings. The Saint thanked him, and left him to pursue his way in peace with his one portion of bread and single piece of money. With these he entered an inn, ate his bread, and with his farthing procured some beer When he had done his meal, he went on again, and presently the Saint, in the form of a discharged soldier like himself, came up to him and said, “Good day, comrade; can you not give me a bit of bread and a farthing to buy some beer?” “Where shall I get them?” said Lustig, “I have just received my discharge, and nothing with it but a loaf of ammunition-bread and four farthings; and those I have shared with three beggars whom I have met by the way. The last farthing I have spent for a draught of beer to wash down my own share of the loaf, and so I am empty in purse, and, if you have no more, we may as well go begging together.”

  “No,” replied the Saint, “that is not yet necessary, for I understand a little of the healing art, and with that I can earn as much as I require.”

  “Ah well!” replied Brother Lustig, “then I must go alone, since I am quite ignorant of that science.”

  “You can come with me,” said the Saint, “and of what I earn you shall have the half.”

  “That is all right,” replied Brother Lustig; and they walked on together.

  Soon they came to a farmhouse, and heard within a great crying and groaning. So they entered, and found the master lying on his bed, very ill, and nigh unto death, while his wife sat by weeping and howling. “Cease your tears and groans!” said the Saint to the woman, “I will make your husband well;” and he took out of his pocket an ointment, with which he anointed him, and in a minute the farmer stood up quite recovered. In their joy and satisfaction, the man and his wife asked the Saint, “How can we reward you, or what shall we give you?” The Saint, however, would take nothing, and the more they begged him the more earnestly he refused; but Brother Lustig nudged him, and said, “Do take something, we shall want it.” At last the countrywoman brought a lamb and asked the Saint to take it, but he still refused, till Lustig, nudging him again and saying, “Pray take it, we shall certainly want it,” he consented, saying to Brother Lustig, “I will take this lamb, but I cannot carry it; you must do that, since you wish for it.” “Oh, as to that matter,” said Lustig, “I will readily take it;” and he tied his legs to a stick and put it upon his shoulder. Now they went on till they came to a forest, where the lamb would soon have become a burden to Lustig, but he was hungry, and said to the Saint, “See, here is a beautiful place to cook and eat the lamb.”

  “Very well,” replied his companion; “but I cannot stay here while you cook; do you see to that. Here is a kettle; meanwhile I will walk about till it is ready; but mind you must not begin to eat until I return, which will be at the right time.” “You can go if you please,” said Lustig; “I understand cooking well, and all will soon be ready.” And so saying, he killed the lamb, made a fire, and threw the flesh into the pot to boil. The meat was soon done enough, but still the Saint did not return, and Brother Lustig at length took it out of the pot, and, cutting it up, found the heart. “This is the best part,” said he as he ate it, and just then the Saint returned, and said to him, “You can eat the whole lamb by yourself, but give me the heart.” Brother Lustig took up his knife and fork and pretended to search very eagerly among the flesh for the heart without success. “There is none,” said he at length. “No! where should it be, then?” asked the Saint. “That I do not know,” replied the other; “but what simpletons we both are to expect to find a lamb’s heart when it has none!”

  “Eh!” said the Apostle, “that is something new; every animal has a heart, and why should not a lamb have one?” “No, certainly, comrade,” said Lustig, “a lamb has no heart; just think for a minute, and you will readily allow it has not.”

  “Well, then,” rejoined the Saint, “since there is no heart I need none of the flesh; you may eat it all yourself.”

  “And what I cannot eat I shall put in my knapsack,” said the Soldier, and as he ate but half he disposed of the other as he said.

  This over, they travelled on further, and soon came to a stream which they were obliged to pass. “Go you first,” said the Saint to his companion; but he refused, thinking, if the other went before, he should know whether the water were deep or no. The holy Saint walked through, and the water was only up to his knees, and then Brother Lustig followed, but the water had become deeper and covered him up to the neck, so that he called, “Help me, comrade!” But the Saint said, “Will you confess that you ate the heart of the lamb?”

  “No,” he replied, “I have not eaten it;” and immediately the water rose still more, till it reached his mouth. “Help me, comrade!” cried the Soldier again; but the Saint asked a second time, “Will you confess that you ate the lamb’s heart?” “No, I have not eaten it,” said Lustig; but nevertheless the Saint would not drown him, but took him by the hand and pulled him out.

  Now they walked on again, and came to a country where they heard that the King’s daughter lay deadly sick. “Halloa! comrade,” said the Soldier to the Saint, “here is a windfall for us; if we can restore her to life, our fortune is made for ever.” But the holy Saint would not hurry, and Lustig said, “Pray make haste, comrade, and lift your legs quicker, or we shall not arrive in time.” Still the Saint went on slowly, slowly, although his companion tried to push him along, until they at last heard that the Princess was dead. “There,” said the Soldier, “this comes of your sleepy walking.”

  But the Saint said, “Be quiet! I can do more than make the sick well, for I can also restore the dead to life.”

  “Well, if that be so,” said Brother Lustig, “that will please; but you must ask the half of the kingdom for a reward.” Thereupon they went into the royal palace, where all were in great grief, and the Saint said to the King, “I will restore your daughter to life.” So he was led to her, and he asked for a kettle of water, and as soon as it was brought he caused every one to go out of the room, and only Brother Lustig to remain. Then he cut all the limbs of the dead Princess one from another, and threw them into the water; and, making a fire beneath the kettle; waited till nothing was left but the bones. Then he took out the white bones and laid them upon a table, and arranged them in their natural order, and when that was done he stepped in front of them and said, “In the name of the most Holy, stand up, oh dead!”

  At the third repeating of these words the Princess arose, in full enjoyment of health and vigo
ur, and the King was so rejoiced that he said to the Saint, “Ask your recompense, and whatever it is I will give it you, even to the half of my kingdom.”

  But the Saint answered, “I desire nothing.” “Oh, you simple fellow!” thought the Soldier to himself, and taking his comrade aside he whispered to him, “Be not so foolish; if you desire nothing, still I have need;” but the holy Saint would ask nothing. The King, however, seeing that the other wished for some recompense, caused his knapsack to be filled with gold by the treasurer.

  After this they traveled on further, and as they entered a wood, Brother Lustig said to the Saint, “Let us now share the gold.” “Yes,” replied the Saint, “now is the time,” and he divided the gold into three portions. Brother Lustig thought, “Why, what crotchet has he got in his head now, to make three portions while we are only two?”

  The Saint said, “I have now divided it, one share for me, one for you, and one for him who ate the lamb’s heart.”

  “Oh! I ate that,” replied Brother Lustig quickly, and snatched at the gold; “you may believe me.”

  “But how can that be true?” asked the Saint, “lambs have no hearts!”

  “Eh, what!” replied the Soldier; “why, what are you thinking of? A lamb has a heart as well as any other animal; why should a lamb alone have no heart?”

  “Ah!” said the Saint, “now you may keep the gold yourself, I will travel no longer with such a man, but will go my own path.”

  “As you like, comrade,” replied the Soldier; “as you like; farewell!”

  So the holy Saint went another road, and Brother Lustig thought, “It is well that he is gone; he is certainly a wonderful man.” The Soldier had gold enough now; but what with visiting, giving presents, feasting, and such like, before many months had elapsed he was again quite poor. At that time he came into a country where he heard that the King’s daughter had just died. “Ah!” thought he, “here is a good thing! I will restore her to life again, and I will have such a sum counted out as the importance of my art warrants!” So he went to the King and offered to bring the dead to life. Now this King had heard that a discharged Soldier was travelling about who had raised the dead, and he supposed our Brother Lustig to be the man. Nevertheless, as he did not feel certain, he first asked the advice of his councillors, who decided that there was no harm in trying the man as the Princess was really dead. So Brother Lustig caused water to be brought to him in a kettle, and when every one had left the room, he cut the limbs asunder, and put them into the water and made a fire beneath, just as he had seen the Saint do. Then when the water boiled, and nothing was left but the bones, he took them out and laid them on a table, but he knew not in what order to put them, and so placed them the wrong way. This done, he rose up and said thrice, “In the name of the most Holy, arise, oh dead!” but the bones did not move. “You shining fellows, get up, or it will be the worse for you!” said he, and just as he spoke the Saint came, in his former disguise as a discharged Soldier, and said, “You impious man! what are you about? how can the dead rise when you have placed the limbs all wrong?”