But now the King would not give Jack his Daughter to marry, and said that he must first make him a boat that would swim more like a boat on land than in the water. Jack agrees to the condition, and goes home and tells how he has fared. So the Father sends Hele into the wood to make such a boat; he worked away diligently, and whistled the while. At midday, when the sun was at the highest, comes the little Iron Man, and asks what he is making. “Wooden boat,” answers he. The little Man answered, “Well, so it shall be, and remain.” In the evening Hele thinks he has made the boat; but, when he is going to get into it, it’s nothing but wooden bowls. The next day Saeme goes into the wood; but it went no other with him than with Hele. On the third day stupid Jack goes: he works very hard, so that the wood resounded all through with his heavy blows, and he sang and whistled besides right merrily. The little Man came to him at midday when it was the hottest, and asked him what he was making. “A boat which will go on dry land more like a boat than on the water,” he answered, “and that when he had done it he should marry the King’s daughter.” “Well,” said the little Man, “such a one it shall be, and remain.” In the evening, when the sun had turned to gold, Jack was ready with his boat and all things belonging to it; he got in and rowed towards the castle; but the boat went as fast as the wind. The King sees it from a long way off; but will not give Jack his Daughter yet, and says he must first take a hundred hares out grazing from early morning to late in the evening, and if one were missing he should not have his Daughter. Jack is quite contented, and the next day goes out with his herd to the meadow, and keeps a sharp look out that none stray away. Not many hours had passed away when a maid comes from the castle, and says, Jack is to give her a hare directly, as some visitors had arrived. But Jack saw through that well enough, and said he would not give her one; the King might treat his visitors to hare-pepper. But the maid did not believe him, and at last set to scolding. So Jack said that if the King’s Daughter came herself he would give her a hare. The maid told them that in the castle, and the King’s Daughter did go herself. But in the mean time the little Man had come again to Jack and asked him, what he was doing there. “Oh, he had got to watch a hundred hares so that none ran away, and that he was to marry the King’s Daughter, and be King.” “Good!” said the little Man, “there’s a whistle for you, and when one runs away only just whistle and he will come back again.” When the King’s Daughter came, Jack gave her a hare into her apron. But when she had got about a hundred steps off, Jack whistles, and the hare jumps out of the cloth, and jump, jump! is back to the herd directly. In the evening the hare-herd whistles again, and looks to see they are all right, and drive them to the castle. The King wondered how Jack had been able to take care of a hundred hares, so that none should run off: but he would not yet give him his Daughter so easily, but said he must get him a feather from the old Griffin’s tail.
Jack starts at once, and marches right briskly on. In the evening he arrives at a castle, where he asks for a night’s lodging, for at that time there was no such things as hotels; and the master of the castle greets him very civilly, and asks him where he is going to? Jack answers, “To the old Griffin.” “Oh, indeed! to the old Griffin; they say he knows everything, and I have lost the key to an iron money-chest; perhaps you would be good enough to ask him where it is?” “Certainly,” said Jack, “that I will.” Early the next morning he started off again on his road, and arrives at another castle, where he again passes the night. When the people learned that he was going to the old Griffin, they said “a daughter was ill in the house; they had already tried every possible remedy, but without effect; would he be kind enough to ask old Griffin what would cure her?” Jack said he would do it with pleasure, and went on again. He arrives at a lake; and, instead of a ferry-boat, there was a big man who had to carry everybody over. The man asked him where he was bound for? “To the old Griffin,” said Jack. “When you get to him,” said the man, “just ask him why I am obliged to carry everybody over the water.” “Yes, to be sure,” said Jack; “goodness gracious! yes, willingly!” The man then took him up on his shoulder, and carried him over. At last Jack arrives at the old Griffin’s house, and only found the wife at home—not old Griffin. The woman asked him what he wanted, so he told her he must have a feather from old Griffin’s tail; and that in a castle they had lost the key to the money-chest, and he was to ask the Griffin where it was; and then, in another castle, the daughter was ill, and he was to know what would make her well again; then not far from there was water, and the man who was obliged to carry everybody over, and he should very much like to know why the man was obliged to carry everybody over. “But,” said the Woman, “look you, my good friend, no Christian can speak with a Griffin; he eats them all up; but, if you like, you can lie there under his bed, and at night, when he is fast asleep, you can reach out and pull a feather out of his tail; and as to those things that you want to know, I will ask him myself.” Jack was quite satisfied with the arrangement, and got under the bed. In the evening old Griffin came home, and when he stepped into the room he said, “Wife, I smell a Christian!” “Yes,” said the Wife, “there has been one here to-day, but he went away again.” So old Griffin said no more. In the middle of the night, when Griffin was snoring away lustily, Jack reached up and pulled a feather out of his tail.
The Griffin jumped up suddenly, and cried, “Wife, I smell a Christian! and it was just as if some one had been plucking at my tail.” The wife said, “You have no doubt been dreaming. I have told you already that one has been here to-day, but that he went away again. He told me all sorts of things: that in a castle they had lost the key of the money-chest, and could not find it.” “Oh, the fools!” exclaimed the Griffin; “the key lies in the wood-shed, behind the door, under a log of wood.” “And further, he said that in a castle the daughter was ill, and they knew no means to cure her.” “Oh, the fools!” said the Griffin, “under the cellar steps a toad has made its nest of her hair, and if she got the hair back again she would be well.” “And, then again, he said, at a certain place there was a lake, and a man who was obliged to carry everybody over.” “Oh, the fool!” said the old Griffin, “if he were only to put somebody into the middle he need not carry any more over.”
Early next morning the old Griffin got up and went out, and so Jack gets from under the bed with such a beautiful feather, and he had heard what the Griffin had said about the key, the daughter, and the man. The wife repeated it all to him so that he should not forget, and then he started off towards home. He came to the man at the water first, and he asked him directly what the Griffin had said; but Jack said he must carry him over first, and then he would tell him. So he carried him over; and when they got there Jack told him he only had to put somebody into the middle and then he need carry no more. The man was delighted beyond measure, and told Jack that out of gratitude he should like to carry him over and back once more. But Jack said nay, he would save him the trouble; he was quite contented with him already, and then went on. Then he arrived at the castle where the daughter was ill; he took her on his shoulder, for she was not able to walk, and carried her down the cellar stairs, and then took the toad’s nest from under the bottom step, and put it into the daughter’s hand, and all at once she jumps off his shoulder, up the stairs before him, and is quite well. Now the father and mother were delighted indeed, and made Jack presents of gold and silver, and whatever he wanted they gave him. When Jack arrived at the other castle he went straight to the wood-shed and found the key right enough behind the door, under the log of wood, and took it to the master. He was not a little pleased and gave Jack in return a great deal of gold that was in the box, and all sorts of things besides, such as cows, and sheep, and goats. When Jack got to the King with all those things, with the money, and gold and silver, and the cows, sheep, and goats, the King asked him wherever he had come by all that. So Jack said the old Griffin would give one as much as one liked. The King thought he could find a use for that sort of thing himself, and so st
arted off to the Griffin; but when he got to the water he happened to be the first who arrived there since Jack, and the man put him in the middle and walked off, and the King was drowned.
So Jack married the King’s Daughter and became King.
Snow-White and Rose-Red
There was once a poor Widow who lived alone in her hut with her two children, who were called Snow-White and Rose-Red, because they were like the flowers which bloomed on two rose-bushes which grew before the cottage. But they were two as pious, good, industrious, and amiable children, as any that were in the world, only Snow-White was more quiet and gentle than Rose-Red. For Rose-Red would run and jump about the meadows, seeking flowers and catching butterflies, while Snow-White sat at home helping her Mother to keep house, or reading to her if there were nothing else to do. The two children loved one another dearly, and always walked hand-in-hand when they went out together; and even when they talked of it they agreed that they would never separate from each other, and that whatever one had the other should share. Often they ran deep into the forest and gathered wild berries; but no beast ever harmed them. For the hare would eat cauliflowers out of their hands, the fawn would graze at their side, the goats would frisk about them in play, and the birds remained perched on the boughs singing as if nobody were near. No accident ever befell them; and if they stayed late in the forest, and night came upon them, they used to lie down on the moss and sleep till morning; and because their Mother knew they would do so, she felt no concern about them. One time when they had thus passed the night in the forest, and the dawn of morning awoke them, they saw a beautiful Child dressed in shining white sitting near their couch. She got up and looked at them kindly, but without saying anything went into the forest; and when the children looked round they saw that where they had slept was close to the edge of a pit, into which they would have certainly fallen had they walked a couple of steps further in the dark. Their Mother told them the figure they had seen was doubtless the good angel who watches over children.
Snow-White and Rose-Red kept their Mother’s cottage so clean that it was a pleasure to enter it. Every morning in the summer-time Rose-Red would first put the house in order, and then gather a nosegay for her Mother, in which she always placed a bud from each rose-tree. Every winter’s morning Snow-White would light the fire and put the kettle on to boil, and although the kettle was made of copper it yet shone like gold, because it was scoured so well. In the evenings, when the flakes of snow were falling, the Mother would say, “Go, Snow-White, and bolt the door;” and then they used to sit down on the hearth, and the mother would put on her spectacles and read out of a great book, while her children sat spinning. By their side, too, laid a little lamb, and on a perch behind them a little white dove reposed with her head under her wing.
One evening, when they were thus sitting comfortably together, there came a knock at the door as if somebody wished to come in. “Make haste, Rose-Red,” cried her Mother; “make haste and open the door; perhaps there is some traveller outside who needs shelter.” So Rose-Red went and drew the bolt and opened the door, expecting to see some poor man outside; but instead, a great fat Bear poked his black head in. Rose-Red shrieked out and ran back, the little lamb bleated, the dove fluttered on her perch, and Snow-White hid herself behind her mother’s bed. The Bear, however, began to speak, and said, “Be not afraid, I will do you no harm; but I am half-frozen, and wish to come in and warm myself.”
“Poor Bear!” cried the Mother; “come in and lie down before the fire; but take care you do not burn your skin;” and then she continued, “Come here, Rose-Red and Snow-White, the Bear will not harm you, he means honourably.” So they both came back, and by degrees the lamb too and the dove overcame their fears and welcomed the rough visitor.
“You children!” said the Bear, before he entered, “come and knock the snow off my coat.” And they fetched their brooms and swept him clean. Then he stretched himself before the fire and grumbled out his satisfaction; and in a little while the children became familiar enough to play tricks with the unwieldy animal. They pulled his long shaggy skin, set their feet upon his back and rolled him to and fro, and even ventured to beat him with a hazel stick, laughing when he grumbled. The Bear bore all their tricks good temperedly, and if they hit too hard he cried out,
“Leave me my life, you children,
Snow-White and Rose-Red,
Or you’ll never wed.”
When bed time came and the others were gone, the Mother said to the Bear, “You may sleep here on the hearth if you like, and then you will be safely protected from the cold and bad weather.”
As soon as day broke the two children let the Bear out again, and he trotted away over the snow, and ever afterwards he came every evening at a certain hour. He would lie down on the hearth and allow the children to play with him as much as they liked, till by degrees they became so accustomed to him that the door was left unbolted till their black friend arrived.
But as soon as spring returned, and everything out of doors was green again, the Bear one morning told Snow-White that he must leave her, and could not return during the whole summer. “Where are you going, then, dear Bear?” asked Snow-White. “I am obliged to go into the forest and guard my treasures from the evil Dwarfs; for in winter, when the ground is hard, they are obliged to keep in their holes, and cannot work through; but now, since the sun has thawed the earth and warmed it, the Dwarfs pierce through, and steal all they can find; and what has once passed into their hands, and gets concealed by them in their caves, is not easily brought to light.” Snow-White, however, was very sad at the departure of the Bear, and opened the door so hesitatingly that when he pressed through it he left behind on the sneck a piece of his hairy coat; and through the hole which was made in his coat, Snow-White fancied she saw the glittering of gold; but she was not quite certain of it. The Bear, however, ran hastily away, and was soon hidden behind the trees.
Some time afterwards the Mother sent the children into the wood to gather sticks; and while doing so, they came to a tree which was lying across the path, on the trunk of which something kept bobbing up and down from the grass, and they could not imagine what it was. When they came nearer they saw a Dwarf, with an old wrinkled face and a snow-white beard a yard long. The end of this beard was fixed in a split of the tree, and the little man kept jumping about like a dog tied by a chain, for he did not know how to free himself. He glared at the Maidens with his red fiery eyes, and exclaimed, “Why do you stand there? are you going to pass without offering me any assistance?” “What have you done, little man?” asked Rose-Red. “You stupid, gaping goose!” exclaimed he. “I wanted to have split the tree, in order to get a little wood for my kitchen, for the little wood which we use is soon burnt up with great logs, not like what you rough greedy people devour! I had driven the wedge in properly, and everything was going on well, when the smooth wood flew upwards, and the tree closed so suddenly together that I could not draw my beautiful beard out, and here it sticks and I cannot get away. There, don’t laugh you milk-faced things! are you dumbfounded?”
Grimm's Fairy Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 52