XIXKARI WOODENCOAT

NOTEThe story of Cupid and Psyche is the most celebrated representative of the type of fairy-tale to which “Trouble and Care” belongs (Hallv. E. Bergh,Nye Folkeeventyr og Sagn fra Valdres og Hallindal, Coll. III, Christiania, 1882, No. 1). The northern peoples take special pleasure in tales of faithful women, who try to reach their vanished lovers by means of wearisome and difficult wanderings. Peculiar is the transformation of the lover into a squirrel, in this tale, and the condition that the poor princess must not bend her knees, that is, sit or crouch down, during her long journey. The end is a typical fairy-tale close, such as the narrator likes to add, without any inner relationship to the story itself.

NOTE

The story of Cupid and Psyche is the most celebrated representative of the type of fairy-tale to which “Trouble and Care” belongs (Hallv. E. Bergh,Nye Folkeeventyr og Sagn fra Valdres og Hallindal, Coll. III, Christiania, 1882, No. 1). The northern peoples take special pleasure in tales of faithful women, who try to reach their vanished lovers by means of wearisome and difficult wanderings. Peculiar is the transformation of the lover into a squirrel, in this tale, and the condition that the poor princess must not bend her knees, that is, sit or crouch down, during her long journey. The end is a typical fairy-tale close, such as the narrator likes to add, without any inner relationship to the story itself.

Onceupon a time there was a king whose wife had died, but he had a daughter who was so good and so beautiful that no one could have been kinder or lovelier than she. The king mourned a long time for the queen, because he had loved her greatly; but in the course of time he grew weary of his lonely life, and married again with the widow of another king, who also had a daughter; but one who was just as ugly and evil as the other was handsome and kind. The step-mother and daughter were jealous of the king’s daughter, because she was so handsome; yet so long as the king was at home, they did not dare harm her, for he was very fond of her. But after a time, the king began to war against another king, and went out to battle. Then the queen thought she now could do as she wished, and she let the king’s daughter starve, and beat and pushed her about everywhere. At last everything else was too good for her, and she had to herd the cows. So she went out with the cows, and pastured them in the forest or on the hill. Food she had little or none, and she grew pale and thin, and was sad most of the time, and wept. In the herd there was also a great blue bull, who always kept himself neat and clean, and often came to thequeen’s daughter and let her scratch him. Once, as she sat there and cried and was sad, he came to her again, and asked why she was so unhappy. She did not answer him but kept on weeping. “Well, I know what your trouble is,” said the bull, “even though you will not tell me. You are weeping because the queen is so unkind to you, and would gladly starve you to death. But you need not worry about food, for in my left ear is a cloth and, if you will take it out and spread it, you can have as much as you want to eat.” She did so, took out the cloth, laid it on the grass, and it was at once covered with the finest dishes one might desire: bread and mead and honey-cake. Then she soon regained her strength, and grew so plump, and so rose and white complexioned that the queen and her daughter, who was as thin as a rail, turned green and yellow with envy. The queen could not understand how it was that her step-daughter came to look so well in spite of such poor fare. So she told a maid to follow her to the forest, and watch and see how it came about; for she thought some of the servants secretly gave her food. The maid followed her into the forest, and watched carefully, and saw how the step-daughter drew the cloth out of the blue bull’s left ear, and spread it out, and how it covered itself with the finest dishes, and also how the king’s daughter ate heartily. And the maid told the queen at home about it.

Now the king came home, and he had defeated the other king, against whom he had warred; and thewhole castle was overjoyed, and none was more joyful than the king’s daughter. But the queen pretended to be ill, and gave the physician a great deal of money so that he should say that she could not recover unless she had some of the blue bull’s flesh to eat. The king’s daughter and others as well asked the physician whether nothing else would do, and pleaded for the bull; for all liked him, and said that there was not such another in the whole kingdom. But no, he must be slaughtered, and he should be slaughtered, and there was no help for it. When the king’s daughter heard this, she felt sad, and went into the stable to the bull. He stood and hung his head, and looked so mournful that she could not keep from weeping. “Why do you weep?” asked the bull. Then she told him that the king had come home, and that the queen had pretended to be ill, and had forced the physician to say that she could not recover unless she had some of the blue bull’s flesh to eat, and that now he was to be slaughtered. “Once she has done away with me, it will not be long before she does away with you,” said the bull. “But if it suits you, we will run away from here to-night.” The king’s daughter did say that it would be bad enough to leave her father, but that at the same time it would be worse to remain under the same roof with the queen, and so she promised the bull to go with him.

In the evening, while the rest were asleep, the king’s daughter crept down to the bull in the stable. He took her on his back, and ran off as quickly asever he could. And when the people rose the following morning, and wanted to slaughter the bull, he was gone; and when the king rose and asked for his daughter, she was gone as well. The king sent out messengers on all sides, and had the church-bells rung for her, but no one had seen anything of her.

In the meantime the bull trotted through many lands with the king’s daughter, and they came to a great copper forest, whose trees, leaves and flowers were all of copper. But before they entered it, the bull said to the king’s daughter: “Now when we get into the forest you must be very careful not to touch so much as a single leaf, or else it is all up with you and with me; for a troll with three heads lives here, and the forest belongs to him.” Yes, indeed, she would be careful, and not touch anything. And she was very careful, and leaned to one side, and thrust aside the branches; but the forest was so thick that it was almost impossible to win through, and for all that she was so careful, she did tear off a leaf, and it remained in her hand.

“Alas, alas!” cried the bull. “What have you done! Now I must fight for my very life. But see that you keep the leaf carefully!” Straightway they reached the end of the forest, and at once a troll with three heads came rushing up. “Who has touched my forest?” cried he. “The forest is as much mine as yours!” was the bull’s reply. “We’ll see if it is!” shouted the troll. “That suits me!” cried the bull. Then they rushed at each other, and the bull gored and butted with might and main. Butthe troll was just as strong, and it took all day before the bull gained the upper hand. And then he had so many wounds, and was so weak that he could scarcely walk. So they had to halt for a whole day; but the bull told the queen’s daughter to take the horn of ointment that hung at the troll’s girdle, and anoint him with the salve. Thereupon he grew strong and well again, and they went on the next day. Now they wandered for many, many days, and at last came to a silver forest, whose trees, branches, leaves, buds and all were of silver.

Before the bull entered the forest he said to the king’s daughter: “Now when we get into this forest, in heaven’s name be careful! You must touch nothing, and not even tear off so much as a single leaf, or else it is all up with you and me. A troll with six heads lives here, and the forest belongs to him, and I will hardly be able to hold my own against him!”

“Yes,” said the king’s daughter, “indeed I will be careful, and not touch the least thing, just as you have told me.” But when they entered the forest, it was so thick that it was almost impossible to win through. She was as careful as she could be, and avoided the branches, and thrust them aside with her hands; but the branches struck her in the face each moment, and in spite of all her care a leaf did remain in her hand.

“Alas, alas!” cried the bull. “What have you done! Now I must fight for my very life, for the troll with six heads is twice as strong as the firstone; but see that you take care of the leaf and keep it carefully!”

At once the troll came rushing up. “Who has touched my forest?” cried he. “The forest is as much mine as yours!” cried the bull. “Oho, we’ll see if it is!” cried the troll. “That suits me!” said the bull, and rushed on the troll, gored him, and thrust his horns right through him. But the troll was just as strong, and it took three whole days before the bull got the better of him. After that he was so weak and feeble that he could scarcely move, and so full of wounds that his blood ran in streams. Then he told the king’s daughter to take the horn of ointment that hung at the troll’s girdle, and anoint him with the salve. She did so, and he recovered again: yet they had to remain a time on the spot, until he was once more able to go on.

At last they set out again; but the bull was still weak, and at first they went slowly. The king’s daughter wanted to spare him, and said she was young and quick on her feet, and could walk very well; but this he would not allow, and she had to sit on his back. Thus they wandered for a long time, and through many lands, and the king’s daughter had no idea where they might be going; but at length they came to a golden forest. It was very beautiful, and the gold dripped down from it, for the trees, and branches and leaves and buds were all of purest gold. And here all went as it had in the copper and silver forests. The bull told the king’s daughter that in no case was she to touch anything, since atroll with nine heads lived here, to whom the forest belonged. And he was much larger and stronger than the two others together, and he did not believe he could hold his own against him. Yes, said she, she would be sure to pay attention and positively would not touch a thing. But when they entered the forest, it was even thicker than the silver forest, and the further they went the worse it became. The forest grew thicker and denser, and at last it seemed as though it would be impossible to push on at all. She was much afraid of tearing off anything, and wound and twisted and bent herself in every direction, in order to avoid the branches, and thrust them aside with her hands. But each moment they struck her in the face, so that she could not see where she was reaching, and before she had a chance to think, she held a golden apple in her hand. Then she was terribly frightened, and began to cry, and wanted to throw it away. But the bull told her to keep it, and hide it carefully, and consoled her as best he could. Yet he thought that the battle would be a hard one, and was in doubt as to whether it would end well.

But now the troll with the nine heads came rushing up, and he was so frightful that the king’s daughter could scarcely bear to look at him. “Who has touched my forest?” he shouted. “The forest is as much mine as yours!” cried the bull. “We’ll see if it is!” cried the troll. “That suits me!” said the bull, and with this they rushed on each other, so that it was a fearsome sight, and the king’s daughternearly fainted. The bull gored the troll through and through with his horns; but the troll was as strong as he, and as soon as the bull killed one of his heads, the others breathed fresh life into it, and it took a full week before the bull got the better of him. But then he was so wretched and so weak that he could not move a bit. His whole body was covered with wounds; and he could not even tell the king’s daughter to take the horn of ointment from the troll’s girdle and anoint him with the salve. But she did so of her own accord, and then he recovered again. Yet they had to stay where they were for three whole weeks, until he was able to go on again.

At last they once more went slowly on their way; for the bull said they still had a little further to go, and they went over many great hills and through thick forests. After a time they came to a rock. “Do you see anything?” asked the bull. “No, I see only the sky and the rock,” said the king’s daughter. But when they went on up the hills were more level, so that they had a broader outlook. “Do you see something now?” asked the bull. “Yes, I see a small castle, far, far in the distance,” said the princess. “And yet it is not so small,” said the bull. At length they came to a great mountain with a steep, rocky face. “Do you see something now?” asked the bull. “Yes, now I see the castle close by, and it is much, much larger,” said the king’s daughter. “That is where you must go!” said the bull. “Just below the castle is a pig-sty, and if you go into it you will find a wooden coat. You must putit on, and go with it into the castle, and say your name is Kari Woodencoat, and ask for a place. But now take your little knife and cut off my head; then draw off my skin, roll it up and lay it at the foot of the rock. But in it you must place the copper leaf, and the silver leaf, and the golden apple. Outside, against the hill, is a stick, and if you want anything of me, all you need do is to knock at the mountain-side.” At first the princess could not at all make up her mind to do this; but when the bull told her that this was the only reward he wanted for all the good he had done her, she could not refuse. It made her heart ache, yet in spite of it, she took her knife and cut until she had cut off the head of the great beast, and had drawn off his skin, and then she laid the latter at the foot of the rock, and in it she placed the copper leaf, and the silver leaf, and the golden apple.

When she had done this she went to the pig-sty, but she wept a great deal and felt sad. Then she put on the wooden coat, and went to the king’s castle in it. She asked for a place in the kitchen, and said her name was Kari Woodencoat. Yes, said the cook, she might have a place if she cared to wash up, for the girl who had formerly attended to it had run away. “And after you have been here a while, no doubt you will have enough of it, and run away from us, too,” said he. No, indeed, she would not do so.

She was most industrious at her washing up. On Sunday they expected company at the king’s castle;and Kari asked permission to take up water to wash in to the prince. But the others laughed at her and cried; “What do you want to do there? Do you think the prince will have anything to do with you, homely as you are?” But she kept on asking, and at length received permission.

And then, as she ran up the stairs, her wooden coat clattered so loudly that the prince came out and asked: “And who are you?” “I came to bring you water to wash in,” said Kari. “Do you think I want the water you are bringing me?” cried the prince, and poured the water out over her head. So she had to go off; but she asked permission to go to church. And she received permission, for the church was close by. But first she went to the rock and knocked at it with a stick, as the bull had told her. And a man came out at once and asked what she wanted. The king’s daughter said that she had permission to go to church and hear the sermon, but that she had no dress to wear. Then the man gave her a dress that shone like the copper forest, and a horse and a saddle as well. When she came to church she looked so beautiful that all the people wondered who she might be, and none of them listened to the sermon, because they were all looking at her. She even pleased the prince so much that he could not keep from looking at her.

When she left the church, the prince came after her, and closed the church door behind her, and kept one of the gloves she wore in his hand. And then when she wanted to mount her horse, the prince cameagain, and asked her where she came from. “From Washwaterland!” said Kari, and while the prince pulled out the glove and wanted to give it to her, she said:

“Be there light before me, and darkness behind,That the place I ride to the prince may not find!”

The prince had never yet seen such a handsome glove, and he traveled far, looking for the native land of the noble lady who had abandoned her glove, but no one could tell him where it might be.

The following Sunday some one had to go up to the prince, and bring him a towel. “Cannot I go up?” begged Kari. “Is that all you want?” said the rest in the kitchen. “You saw yourself what happened to you the last time!” But Kari kept on asking, and finally she received permission, after all, and ran up the stairs so that her wooden coat fairly clattered. The prince at once thrust his head out of the door, and when he saw that it was Kari, he tore the towel out of her hand and flung it at her head. “Off with you, you horrid creature!” cried he. “Do you think I want a towel that you have touched with your dirty fingers?”

After that the prince went to church, and Kari also begged permission to go. The people asked her why she wanted to go to church, since she had nothing to wear but her ugly, black wooden coat. But Kari said the pastor preached so beautifully that she loved to listen to him, and finally they allowedher to go. She went to the wall of rock and knocked, and the man came out and gave her a dress that was far handsomer than the first; it was embroidered all over with silver, and gleamed like the silver forest; and she also received a splendid horse, with housings embroidered with silver, and a silver bridle. When the king’s daughter came to the church, the people were still standing before the church door. In their astonishment they all asked each other who she might be, and the prince came running up at once, and wanted to hold her horse while she dismounted. But she jumped right down, and said it would not be necessary, since the horse was so tame that it would stand still when she commanded, and come to her if she wished. Then every one went into the church. But hardly any one paid any attention to the sermon; for they were all looking at Kari, and the prince fell deeper in love with her than he had the first time. When the sermon was over, and she left the church and was about to mount her horse, the prince again came, and asked where she came from. “From Towelland!” said she, and let fall her riding-whip. And when the prince stooped to pick it up, she said:

“Be there light before me, and darkness behind,That the place I ride to the prince may not find!”

Off she was, and the prince did not know what had become of her. He wandered about in the world, far and wide, looking for her native land. But noone could tell him where it might be, and with that the prince finally had to content himself.

The following Sunday some one was to go up to the prince, and bring him a comb. Kari begged that they would let her go, but the others reminded her of what had happened the last time, and scolded her for showing herself to the prince, ugly and black as she was, and in her wooden coat. But she kept on asking, and finally they let her go with the comb. When she once more came clattering up the stairs, the prince thrust his head out of the door, tore the comb from her hand, and shouted at her to be off. Then the prince went to church, and Kari wanted to go as well. The rest again asked her why she wanted to go to church, black and ugly as she was, since she did not even have clothes fit to appear in before other people. The prince, or some one else might happen to see her, and that would mean unhappiness for herself and others. But Kari said that the people would have other things to look at besides herself, and finally they let her go.

Then everything happened exactly as on the other two occasions. She went to the wall of rock, and knocked with the stick, and then the man came out, and gave her a dress that was far more beautiful than both of the others. It was all pure gold and diamonds, and she also received a beautiful horse, with housings embroidered with gold, and a golden bridle.

When the king’s daughter came to the church, the pastor and all the congregation were still standing before the church door, waiting for her. The princecame running up at once, and wanted to hold her horse, but she jumped down and said: “No, thanks, it is not necessary, for my horse is so tame that he will remain standing when I tell him to do so.” So they all went into the church, and the pastor mounted the pulpit. But not a soul listened to the sermon, because all the people were looking at the princess, and wondering where she came from, and the prince fell still more deeply in love than he had on the two other occasions. He paid no attention to anything, and looked only at her.

When the sermon was over, and the king’s daughter left the church, the prince had poured tar on the floor of the vestibule, so that he might have a chance to help the king’s daughter across. But she paid no attention to it, stepped right into the middle of the tar, and leaped over. But one of her golden shoes stuck fast, and when she had mounted her horse, the prince came running out of the church and asked her whence she came. “From Combland!” she answered. But when the prince wanted to hand her the golden shoe, she said:

“Be there light before me, and darkness behind,That the place I ride to the prince may not find!”

And again the prince did not know where she had gone, and he wandered about the world a long time, looking for Combland; but since no one could tell him where it might be, he let it be known that he would marry the girl whose foot the golden shoefitted. Then the handsome and the homely came scurrying up from the ends of the earth; but none of them had a foot so small that they could put on the golden shoe. At last Kari’s evil stepmother and her daughter also came, and the shoe fitted the latter. But she was very homely, and looked so unsatisfactory that the prince kept his promise most unwillingly. Notwithstanding, preparations were made for the wedding, and she was adorned with her bridal finery, but when they rode to church, a little bird sat in a tree and sang:

“A bit of the heel,And a bit of the toe,Kari Woodencoat’s shoeIs filled with blood, I know!”

And when they looked, the bird had told the truth, for blood was dripping from the shoe. Then all the maids and all the women who were at the castle had to try on the shoe, but it would fit none of them. “But where is Kari Woodencoat?” asked the prince, for he had understood the song of the bird, and remembered it well. “O she!” said the others. “It is not worth while having her come, for she has feet like a horse.” “Be that as it may,” said the prince. “But all the rest have tried it on, so she shall try it on as well. Kari!” he called out through the door, and Kari came clattering up the stairs so that everything shook, just as though a whole regiment of dragoons had arrived. “Now you shall try onthe golden shoe, and be a princess!” said the others, and made fun of her. But Kari took the shoe, put her foot into it without a bit of trouble, cast off her wooden coat, and stood there in her golden dress, so that she was all a-sparkle, and on her other foot she had the golden shoe’s mate. The prince recognized her at once, put his arm around her, and kissed her. And she told him that she was a king’s daughter, which made him still more happy, and then they celebrated their wedding.

“Spin, span, spun,Now our tale is done!”

NOTE“Kari Woodencoat” (Asbjörnsen and Moe, N.F.E., p. 79, No. 19) proves how arbitrarily the motives of a fairy-tale are sometimes handled. The blue bull helps the maiden out of her difficulties, and we expect that he will turn out to be a handsome prince, or a guardian spirit sent by the deceased mother. Instead of which he disappears from the story with hardly a trace, and Kari marries a foreign prince. The last part of the tale has an independent existence in a Russian fairy-story, “The Czar’s Daughter in the Underground Kingdom.”

NOTE

“Kari Woodencoat” (Asbjörnsen and Moe, N.F.E., p. 79, No. 19) proves how arbitrarily the motives of a fairy-tale are sometimes handled. The blue bull helps the maiden out of her difficulties, and we expect that he will turn out to be a handsome prince, or a guardian spirit sent by the deceased mother. Instead of which he disappears from the story with hardly a trace, and Kari marries a foreign prince. The last part of the tale has an independent existence in a Russian fairy-story, “The Czar’s Daughter in the Underground Kingdom.”

Onceupon a time there lived a man in the forest of Dovre whose name was Ola Storbaekkjen. He was of giant build, powerful and fearless. During the winter he did not work, but traveled from one fair to another, hunting up quarrels and brawls. From Christiansmarkt he went to Branaes and Konigsberg, and thence to Grundsaet, and wherever he came squabbles and brawls broke out, and in every brawl he was the victor. In the summer he dealt in cattle at Valders and the fjords, and fought with the fjord-folk and the hill people of Halling and Valders, and always had the best of it. But sometimes they scratched him a bit with the knife, did those folk.

Now once, at the time of the hay harvest, he was home at Baekkjen, and had lain down to take a little after-dinner nap under the penthouse. And he was taken into the hill, which happened in the following way: A man with a pair of gilded goat’s horns came along and butted Ola, but Ola fell upon him so that the man had to duck back, again and again. But the stranger stood up once more, and began to butt again, and finally he took Ola under his arm like a glove, and then both of them flew straight off into the hill.

In the place to which they came all was adorned with silver plates and dishes, and with ornaments of silver, and Ola thought that the king himself had nothing finer. They offered him mead, which he drank; but eat he would not, for the food did not seem to him to be appetizing. Suddenly the man with the gilded goat’s horns came in, and gave Ola a shove before he knew it; but Ola came back at him as before, and so they beat and pulled each other through all the rooms, and along all the walls. Ola was of the opinion that they had been at it all night long; but by that time the scuffle had lasted over fourteen days, and they had already tolled the church bells for him on three successive Thursday evenings. On the third Thursday evening he was in ill ease, for the people in the hill had in mind to thrust him forth. When the bells stopped ringing, he sat at a crack in the hill, with his head looking out. Had not a man come by and happened to spy him, and told the people to keep on ringing the church-bells, the hill would have closed over him again, and he would probably still be inside. But when he came out he had been so badly beaten, and was so miserable, that it passed all measure. The lumps on his head were each bigger than the other, his whole body was black and blue, and he was quite out of his mind. And from time to time he would leap up, run off and try to get back into the hill to take up his quarrel again, and fight for the gilded goat’s horns. For those he wanted to break from the giant’s forehead.

NOTEA primitive enjoyment of brawling and pummeling is betrayed in the story of “Ola Storbaekkjen” (Asbjörnsen,Huldreeventyr, II, p. 73. From the vicinity of Osterdalen, told by a reindeer-hunter).

NOTE

A primitive enjoyment of brawling and pummeling is betrayed in the story of “Ola Storbaekkjen” (Asbjörnsen,Huldreeventyr, II, p. 73. From the vicinity of Osterdalen, told by a reindeer-hunter).

Onceupon a time there was a man who had a cat, and she ate so very much that he did not want to keep her any longer. So he decided to tie a stone around her neck, and throw her into the river; but before he did so she was to have something to eat just once more. The woman offered her a dish of mush and a little potful of fat. These she swallowed, and then jumped out of the window. There stood the man on the threshing-floor.

“Good-day, man in the house,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat,” said the man. “Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?”

“O, only a little, but my fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat, and I am thinking over whether I ought not to eat you as well,” said she, and she seized the man and ate him up. Then she went into the stable. There sat the woman, milking.

“Good-day, woman in the stable,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat, is that you?” said the woman. “Have you eaten your food?” she asked.

“O, only a little to-day. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the manin the house, and I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you as well,” said she, and she seized the woman and ate her up.

“Good-day, cow at the manger,” said the cat to the bell-cow.

“Good-day, cat,” said the bell-cow. “Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” “O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable, and I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you as well,” said the cat, and seized the bell-cow and ate her up. Then she went up to the orchard, and there stood a man who was sweeping up leaves.

“Good-day, leaf-sweeper in the orchard,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat,” said the man. “Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?”

Then she came to a stone-pile. There stood the weasel, looking about him.

“Good-day, weasel on the stone-pile,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat,” said the weasel. “Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?”

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard, and I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you as well,” said the cat, and seized the weasel and ate him up.

After she had gone a while, she came to a hazel-bush. There sat the squirrel, gathering nuts.

“Good-day, squirrel in the bush,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you already had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the squirrel.

After she had gone a little while longer, she met Reynard the fox, who was peeping out of the edge of the forest.

“Good-day, fox, you sly-boots,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the fox.

When she had gone a little further, she met a hare.

“Good-day, you hopping hare,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the hare.

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as well,” said she, and seized the hare and ate him up.

When she had gone a little further, she met a wolf.

“Good-day, you wild wolf,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the wolf.

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and thesquirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare, and I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as well,” said she, and seized the wolf and ate him up, too.

Then she went into the wood, and when she had gone far and farther than far, over hill and dale, she met a young bear.

“Good-day, little bear brown-coat,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the bear.

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little pot of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare and the wild wolf, and I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as well,” said she, and seized the little bear and ate him up.

When the cat had gone a bit further, she met the mother bear, who was clawing at the tree-stems so that the bark flew, so angry was she to have lost her little one.

“Good-day, you biting mother bear,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the mother bear.

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cowat the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare and the wild wolf and the little bear brown-coat, and I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you as well,” said she, and seized the mother bear and ate her, too.

When the cat had gone on a little further, she met the bear himself.

“Good-day, Bruin Good-fellow,” said she.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” asked the bear.

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel in the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare and the wild wolf and the little bear brown-coat and the biting mother bear, and now I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you as well,” said she, and she seized the bear and ate him up, too.

Then the cat went far and farther than far, until she came into the parish. And there she met a bridal party on the road.

“Good-day, bridal party on the road,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?”

“O, only a little. My fast is hardly broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare and the wild wolf and the little bear brown-coat and the biting mother bear and bruin good-fellow and now I’m thinking whether I ought not to eat you up as well,” said she, and she pounced on the whole bridal party, and ate it up, with the cook, the musicians, the horses and all.

When she had gone a bit farther, she came to the church. And there she met a funeral procession.

“Good-day, funeral procession at the church,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the funeral procession.

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare and the wild wolf and little bear brown-coat and the biting mother bear and bruin good-fellow and the bridal party on the road, and now I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as well,” said she, and pounced on thefuneral procession, and ate up corpse and procession.

When the cat had swallowed it all, she went straight on up to the sky, and when she had gone far and farther than far, she met the moon in a cloud.

“Good-day, moon in a cloud,” said the cat.

“Good-day, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the moon.

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the wild wolf and little bear brown-coat and the biting mother bear and bruin good-fellow and the bridal party on the road and the funeral procession at the church, and now I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as well,” said she, and pounced on the moon and ate him up, half and full.

Then the cat went far and farther than far, and met the sun.

“Good morning, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the sun.

“O, only a little,” said the cat. “I have had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pileand the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare and the wild wolf and little bear brown-coat and the biting mother bear and bruin good-fellow and the bridal party on the road and the funeral procession at the church and the moon in a cloud, and now I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as well,” said she, and pounced on the sun in the sky and ate him up.

Then the cat went far and farther than far, until she came to a bridge, and there she met a large billy-goat.

“Good morning, billy-goat on the broad bridge,” said the cat.

“Good morning, cat! Have you had anything to eat yet to-day?” said the goat.

“O, only a little. My fast has hardly been broken,” said the cat. “I had no more than a dish of mush and a little potful of fat and the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare and the wild wolf and little bear brown-coat and the biting mother bear and bruin good-fellow and the bridal party on the road and the funeral procession at the church and the moon in a cloud and the sun in the sky, and now I’m thinking over whether I ought not to eat you up as well,” said she.

“We’ll fight about that first of all,” said the goat, and butted the cat with his horns so that she rolledoff the bridge, and fell into the water, and there she burst.

Then they all crawled out, and each went to his own place, all whom the cat had eaten up, and were every one of them as lively as before, the man in the house and the woman in the stable and the bell-cow at the manger and the leaf-sweeper in the orchard and the weasel on the stone-pile and the squirrel in the hazel-bush and the fox, the sly-boots, and the hopping hare and the wild wolf and little bear brown-coat and the biting mother bear and bruin good-fellow and the bridal party on the road and the funeral procession at the church and the moon in a cloud and the sun in the sky.

NOTEA real nursery fairy-tale is that of “The Cat Who Could Eat So Much” (Asbjörnsen, N.F.E., No. 102, p. 222. From Gudbrandsdal). It may be a survival from the time when it was believed that the sun and moon in the sky were devoured by a monster when they were obscured by a passing cloud.

NOTE

A real nursery fairy-tale is that of “The Cat Who Could Eat So Much” (Asbjörnsen, N.F.E., No. 102, p. 222. From Gudbrandsdal). It may be a survival from the time when it was believed that the sun and moon in the sky were devoured by a monster when they were obscured by a passing cloud.

Onceupon a time there was a poor tenant farmer who had a number of children whom he could feed but poorly, and had to clothe in the scantiest way. They were all handsome; but the most beautiful, after all, was the youngest daughter, for she was beautiful beyond all telling.

Now it happened that one Thursday evening late in the fall there was a terrible storm raging outside. It was pitch dark, and it rained and stormed so that the house shook in every joint. The whole family sat around the hearth, and each was busy with some work or other. Suddenly there were three loud knocks on the window-pane. The man went out to see who was there, and when he stepped outside, there stood a great white bear.

“Good evening,” said the white bear.

“Good evening,” returned the man.

“If you’ll give me your youngest daughter, I will make you just as rich as now you are poor,” said the bear.

The man was not ill-pleased that he was to become so rich; yet he did think that first he ought to speak to his daughter about it. So he went in again, and said that there was a white bear outside, who had promised to make him just as rich as he was poornow, if he could only have the youngest daughter for his bride. But the girl said no, and would not hear of it. Then the man went back to the bear again, and they both agreed that the white bear should return again the following Thursday and get his answer. In the meantime, however, the parents worked upon their daughter, and talked at length about all the riches they would gain, and how well she herself would fare. So at last she agreed, washed and mended the few poor clothes she had, adorned herself as well as she could, and made ready to travel. And what she was given to take along with her is not worth mentioning, either.

The following Thursday the white bear came to fetch his bride. The girl seated herself on his back with her bundle, and then he trotted off. After they had gone a good way, the white bear asked: “Are you afraid?”

“No, not at all,” she answered.

“Just keep a tight hold on my fur, and then you will be in no danger,” said the bear. So she rode on the bear’s back, far, far away, until at last they came to a great rock. There the bear knocked, and at once a door opened through which they entered a great castle, with many brilliantly lighted rooms, where everything gleamed with gold and silver. Then they came into a great hall, and there stood a table completely covered with the most splendid dishes. Here the white bear gave the maiden a silver bell, and said that if there were anything she wanted, she need only ring the bell, and she shouldhave it at once. And after the maiden had eaten, and evening came on, she felt like lying down and going to sleep. So she rang her bell; and at its very first peal she found herself transported to a room in which stood the most beautiful bed one might wish to have, with silken cushions and curtains with golden tassels; and all that was in the room was of gold and silver. Yet when she had lain down and put out the light, she saw a man come in and cast himself down in a corner. It was the white bear, who was allowed to throw off his fur at night; yet the maiden never actually saw him, for he never came until she had put out the light, and before dawn brightened he had disappeared again.

For a time all went well; but gradually the maiden grew sad and silent; for she had not a soul to keep her company the live-long day, and she felt very homesick for her parents and sisters. When the white bear asked her what troubled her, she told him she was always alone, and that she wanted so very much to see her parents and sisters again, and felt very sad because she could not do so. “O that can be managed,” said the white bear. “But first you must promise me that you will never speak to your mother alone; but only when others are present. Very likely she will take you by the hand, and want to lead you into her room, so that she can speak to you alone. But this you must not allow, otherwise you will make us both unhappy.”

And then, one Sunday, the white bear actually came and told her that now she might make the tripto her parents. So she seated herself on the bear’s back, and the bear set out. After they had gone a very long distance, they at length came to a fine, large, white house, before which her brothers and sisters were running about and playing, and all was so rich and splendid that it was a real pleasure merely to look at it.

“This is where your parents live,” said the white bear. “Only do not forget what I told you, or you will make us both unhappy.” Heaven forbid that she should forget it, said the maiden; and when she had come to the house, she got down, and the bear turned back.

When the daughter entered her parents’ home, they were more than happy; they told her that they could not thank her enough for what she had done, and that now all of them were doing splendidly. Then they asked her how she herself fared. The maiden answered that all was well with her, also, and that she had all that heart could desire. I do not know exactly all the other things she told them; but I do not believe she told them every last thing there was to tell. So in the afternoon, when the family had eaten dinner, it happened as the white bear had foretold; the mother wanted to talk to her daughter alone, in her room; but she thought of what the white bear had told her, and did not want to go with her mother, but said:

“All we have to say to each other can just as well be said here.” Yet—she herself did not know exactly how it happened—her mother finally did persuadeher, and then she had to tell just how things were. So she informed her that as soon as she put out the light at night, a man came and cast himself down in the corner of the room. She had never yet seen him, for he always went away before the dawn brightened. And this grieved her, for she did want to see him so very much, and she was alone through the day, and it was very dreary and lonely.

“Alas, perhaps he is a troll, after all,” said the mother. “But I can give you some good advice as to how you can see him. Here is a candle-end, which you must hide under your wimple. When the troll is sleeping, light the light and look at him. But be careful not to let a drop of tallow fall on him.”

The daughter took the candle-end and hid it in her wimple, and in the evening the white bear came to fetch her.

After they had gone a way the white bear asked whether everything had not happened just as he had said. Yes, such had been the case, and the maiden could not deny it.

“If you have listened to your mother’s advice, then you will make us both unhappy, and all will be over between us,” said the bear. “O, no, she had not done so,” replied the maiden, indeed she had not.

When they reached home, and the maiden had gone to bed, all went as usual: a man came in and cast himself down in a corner of the room. But in the night, when she heard him sleeping soundly, she stood up and lighted the candle. She threw the light on him, and saw the handsomest prince one mightwish to see. And she liked him so exceedingly well that she thought she would be unable to keep on living if she could not kiss him that very minute. She did so, but by mistake she let three hot drops of tallow fall on him, and he awoke.

“Alas, what have you done!” cried he. “Now you have made both of us unhappy. If you had only held out until the end of the year, I would have been delivered. I have a step-mother who has cast a spell on me, so that by day I am a bear, and at night a human being. But now all is over between us, and I must return to my step-mother. She lives in a castle that is east of the sun and west of the moon, where there is a princess with a nose three yards long, whom I must now marry.”

The maiden wept and wailed; but to no avail, for the prince said he must journey away. Then she asked him whether she might not go with him. No, said he, that could not be.

“But can you not at least tell me the road, so that I can search for you. For surely that will be permitted me?”

“Yes, that you may do,” said he. “But there is no road that leads there. The castle lies east of the sun and west of the moon, and neither now nor at any other time will you find the road to it!”

When the maiden awoke the next morning, the prince as well as the castle had disappeared. She lay in a green opening in the midst of a thick, dark wood, and beside her lay the bundle of poor belongings she had brought from home. And when shehad rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and had cried her fill, she set out and wandered many, many days, until at last she came to a great hill. And before the hill sat an old woman who was playing with a golden apple. The maiden asked the woman whether she did not know which road led to the prince who lived in the castle that was east of the sun and west of the moon, and who was to marry a princess with a nose three yards long.

“How do you come to know him?” asked the woman. “Are you, perhaps, the maiden he wanted to marry?”

“Yes, I am that maiden,” she replied.

“So you are that girl,” said the woman. “Well, my child, I am sorry to say that all I know of him is that he lives in the castle that is east of the sun and west of the moon, and that you will probably never get there. But I will loan you my horse, on which you may ride to my neighbor, and perhaps she can tell you. And when you get there just give the horse a blow back of his left ear, and order him to go home. And here, take this golden apple along!”

The maiden mounted the horse, and rode a long, long time. At length she again came to a hill, before which sat an old woman with a golden reel. The maiden asked whether she could not tell her the road which led to the castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon. This woman said just what the other had, no, she knew no more of the castle than that it lay east of the sun and west of the moon. “And,” said she, “you will probablynever get there. But I will loan you my horse to ride to the nearest neighbor; perhaps she can tell you. And when you have reached her just give the horse a blow back of his left ear, and order him to go home again.” And finally she gave the maiden the golden reel, for, said the old woman, it might be useful to her.

The maiden then mounted the horse, and again rode a long, long time. At length she once more came to a great hill, before which sat an old woman spinning at a golden spindle. Then the maiden once more asked after the prince, and the castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon. And everything happened exactly as on the two previous occasions.

“Do you happen to be the maiden the prince wanted to marry?” asked the old woman.

“Yes, I am that maiden,” answered the maiden.

But this old woman knew no more about the road than the two others. “Yes, the castle lies east of the sun and west of the moon, that I know,” said she. “And you will probably never get there. But I will loan you my horse, and you may ride on it to the East Wind and ask him. Perhaps he is acquainted there, and can blow you thither. And when you reach him, just give my horse a blow back of the left ear, and then he will return here of his own accord.” Finally the old woman gave her her golden spindle. “Perhaps it may be useful to you,” said she.

The maiden now rode for many days and weeks,and it took a long, long time before she came to the East Wind. But at last she did find him, and then she asked the East Wind whether he could show her the road that led to the prince who lived in the castle that was east of the sun and west of the moon.

O, yes, he had heard tell of the prince, and of the castle as well, said the East Wind, but he did not know the road that led to it, for he had never blown so far. “But if you wish, I will take you to my brother, the West Wind, and perhaps he can tell you, for he is much stronger than I am. Just sit down on my back, and I will carry you to him.”

The maiden did as he told her, and then they moved swiftly away. When they came to the West Wind, the East Wind said that here he was bringing the maiden whom the prince who lived in the castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon had wanted to marry, that she was journeying on her way to him, and looking for him everywhere, and that he had accompanied her in order to find out whether the West Wind knew where this castle might be.

“No,” said the West Wind to the maiden, “I have never blown so far, but if you wish I will take you to the South Wind, who is much stronger than both of us, and has traveled far and wide, and perhaps he can tell you. Seat yourself on my back, and I will carry you to him.”

The maiden did so, and then they flew quickly off to the South Wind. When they found him, the West Wind asked whether the South Wind could showthem the road that led to the castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon; and that this was the maiden who was to have the prince.

“Well, well, so this is the girl?” cried the South Wind. “Yes, it is true that I have gone about a good deal during my life,” said he, “yet I have never blown so far. But if you wish, I will take you to my brother, the North Wind. He is the oldest and strongest of us all. If he does not know where the castle lies, then no one in the whole world can tell you. Seat yourself on my back, and I will carry you to him.”

The maiden seated herself on the back of the South Wind, and he flew away with a roar and a rush. The journey did not take long.

When they had reached the dwelling of the North Wind, the latter was so wild and unmannerly that he blew a cold blast at them while they were still a good way off. “What do you want?” cried he, as soon as he caught sight of them, so that a cold shiver ran down their backs.

“You should not greet us so rudely,” said the South Wind. “It is I, the South Wind. And this is the maiden who wanted to marry the prince who lives in the castle that lies east of the sun and west of the moon. She wishes to ask you whether you have ever been there, and if you can show her the road that leads to it; for she would like to find the prince again.”

“O, yes, I know very well where the castle lies,” said the North Wind. “I blew an aspen leaf therejust once, and then I was so weary that I could not blow at all for many a long day. But if you want to get there above all things, and are not afraid of me, I will take you on my back, and see whether I can blow you there.”

The maiden said that she must and would get to the castle, if it were by any means possible, and that she was not afraid, no matter how hard the journey might be. “Very well, then you must stay here over night,” said the North Wind. “For if we are to get there to-morrow, we must have the whole day before us.”

Early the next morning the North Wind awakened the maiden. Then he blew himself up, and made himself so large and thick that he was quite horrible to look at, and thereupon they rushed along through the air as though they meant to reach the end of the world at once. And everywhere beneath them raged such a storm that forests were pulled out by the roots, and houses torn down, and as they rushed across the sea, ships foundered by the hundreds. Further and further they went, so far that no one could even imagine it, and still they were flying across the sea; but gradually the North Wind grew weary, and became weaker and weaker. Finally he could hardly keep going, and sank lower and lower, and at last he flew so low that the waves washed his ankles.

“Are you afraid?” asked the North Wind.

“No, not at all,” answered the maiden. By now they were not far distant from the land, and theNorth Wind had just enough strength left to be able to set down the maiden on the strand, beneath the windows of the castle that lay east of the sun and west of the moon. And then he was so wearied and wretched that he had to rest many a long day before he could set out for home again.

The next morning the maiden seated herself beneath the windows of the castle and played with the golden apple, and the first person who showed herself was the monster with the nose, whom the prince was to marry.

“What do you want for your golden apple?” asked the princess with the nose, as she opened the window.

“I will not sell it at all, either for gold or for money,” answered the maiden.

“Well, what do you want for it, if you will not sell it either for gold or for money?” asked the princess. “Ask what you will!”

“I only want to speak to-night to the prince who lives here, then I will give you the apple,” said the maiden who had come with the North Wind.

The princess replied that this could be arranged, and then she received the golden apple. But when the maiden came into the prince’s room in the evening, he was sleeping soundly. She called and shook him, wept and wailed; but she could not wake him, and in the morning, as soon as it dawned, the princess with the long nose came and drove her out.

That day the maiden again sat beneath the windows of the castle, and wound her golden reel. And all went as on the preceding day. The princess askedwhat she wanted for the reel, and the maiden answered that she would sell it neither for gold nor for money; but if she might speak that night to the prince, then she would give the reel to the princess. Yet when the maiden came to the prince, he was again fast asleep, and no matter how much she wept and wailed, and cried and shook, she could not wake him. But as soon as day dawned, and it grew bright, the princess with the long nose came and drove her out. And that day the maiden again seated herself beneath the windows of the castle, and spun with her golden spindle; and, of course, the princess with the long nose wanted to have that, too. She opened the window, and asked what she wanted for the golden spindle. The maiden replied, as she had twice before, that she would sell the spindle neither for gold nor money; but that the princess could have it if she might speak to the prince again that night. Yes, that she was welcome to do, said the princess, and took the golden spindle. Now it happened that some Christians, who were captives in the castle, and quartered in a room beside that of the prince, had heard a woman weeping and wailing pitifully in the prince’s room for the past two nights. So they told the prince. And that evening when the princess came to him with his night-cap, the prince pretended to drink it; but instead poured it out behind his back, for he could well imagine that she had put a sleeping-powder into the cup. Then, when the maiden came in, the prince was awake, and she had to tell him just how she had found the castle.

“You have come just in the nick of time,” said he, “for to-morrow I am to marry the princess; but I do not want the monster with the nose at all, and you are the only person who can save me. I will say that first I wish to see whether my bride is a capable housewife, and demand that she wash the three drops of tallow from my shirt. She will naturally agree to this, for she does not know that you made the spots, for only Christian hands can wash them out again, but not the hands of this pack of trolls. Then I will say I will marry none other than the maiden who can wash out the spots, and ask you to do so,” said the prince. And then both rejoiced and were happy beyond measure.

But on the following day, when the wedding was to take place, the prince said: “First I would like to see what my bride can do!” Yes, that was no more than right, said his mother-in-law. “I have a very handsome shirt,” continued the prince, “which I would like to wear at the wedding. But there are three tallow-spots on it, and they must first be washed out. And I have made a vow to marry none other than the woman who can do this. So if my bride cannot manage to do it, then she is worthless.”

Well, that would not be much of a task, said the women, and agreed to the proposal. And the princess with the long nose at once began to wash. She washed with all her might and main, and took the greatest pains, but the longer she washed and rubbed, the larger grew the spots.

“O, you don’t know how to wash!” said her mother, the old troll-wife. “Just give it to me!” But no sooner had she taken the shirt in her hand, than it began to look worse, and the more she washed and rubbed, the larger and blacker grew the spots. Then the other troll-women had to come and wash; but the longer they washed the shirt the uglier it grew, and finally it looked as though it had been hanging in the smokestack.

“Why, all of you are worthless!” said the prince. “Outside the window sits a beggar-girl. I’m sure she is a better washer-woman than all of you put together. You, girl, come in here!” he cried out of the window; and when the maiden came in he said: “Do you think you can wash this shirt clean for me?”

“I do not know,” answered the maiden, “but I will try.” And no more had she dipped the shirt in the water than it turned as white as newly fallen snow, yes, even whiter.

“Indeed, and you are the one I want!” said the prince.

Then the old troll-woman grew so angry that she burst in two, and the princess with the long nose and the rest of the troll-pack probably burst in two as well, for I never heard anything more of them. The prince and his bride then freed all the Christians who had been kept captive in the castle, and packed up as much gold and silver as they could possibly take with them, and went far away from the castle that lies East of the sun and West of the moon.

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