NOTE“East of the Sun and West of the Moon” (Asbjörnsen and Moe, N.F.E., p. 200, No. 41). The maiden’s journeys with the winds are here recounted in a colorful and imaginative manner, and the motive of the washing out of the three drops of tallow is a delicate and ingenious development of the idea of the fateful candle.
NOTE
“East of the Sun and West of the Moon” (Asbjörnsen and Moe, N.F.E., p. 200, No. 41). The maiden’s journeys with the winds are here recounted in a colorful and imaginative manner, and the motive of the washing out of the three drops of tallow is a delicate and ingenious development of the idea of the fateful candle.
Onceupon a time there were five women who were standing in a field, mowing. Heaven had not given a single one of them a child, and each of them wanted to have one. And suddenly they saw a goose-egg of quite unheard-of size, well-nigh as large as a man’s head. “I saw it first,” said the one. “I saw it at the same time that you did,” insisted another. “But I want it, for I saw it first of all,” maintained a third. And thus they went on, and fought so about the egg that they nearly came to blows. Finally they agreed that it should belong to all five of them, and that all of them should sit on it, as a goose would do, and hatch out the little gosling. The first remained sitting on the egg for eight days, and hatched, and did not move or do a thing; and during this time the rest had to feed her and themselves as well. One of them grew angry because of this and scolded.
“You did not crawl out of the egg either before you could cry peep!” said the one who was sitting on the egg and hatching. “Yet I almost believe that a human child is going to slip out of the egg, for something is murmuring inside it without ever stopping: ‘Herring and mush, porridge and milk,’” saidshe. “And now you can sit on it for eight days, while we bring you food.”
When the fifth day of the eight had passed, it was plain to her that there was a child in the egg, which kept on calling: “Herring and mush, porridge and milk,” and so she punched a hole in the egg, and instead of a gosling out came a child, and it was quite disgustingly homely, with a big head and a small body, and no sooner had it crawled out than it began to cry: “Herring and mush, porridge and milk!” So they named the child Murmur Goose-Egg.
In spite of the child’s homeliness, the women at first took a great deal of pleasure in him; but before long he grew so greedy that he devoured everything they had. When they cooked a dish of mush or a potful of porridge that was to do for all six of them, the child swallowed it all by himself. So they did not want to keep him any longer. “I have not had a single full meal since the changling crawled out,” said one of them; and when Murmur Goose-Egg heard that, and the rest agreed, he said that he would gladly go his own gait, for “if they had no need of him, then he had no need of them,” and with that he went off. Finally he came to a farmstead that lay in a rocky section, and asked for work. Yes, they needed a workman, and the master told him to gather up the stones in the field. Then Murmur Goose-Egg gathered up the stones in the field; he picked up some that were so large that a number of horses could not have dragged them, and largeand small, one and all, he put them in his pocket. Before long he had finished his work, and wanted to know what he was to do next.
“You have picked up the stones in the field?” said his master. “You cannot possibly have finished before you have really begun!”
But Murmur Goose-Egg emptied his pockets, and threw the stones on a pile. Then his master saw that he had finished his work, and that one would have to handle such a strong fellow with kid gloves. So he told him to come in and eat. That suited Murmur Goose-Egg, and he ate up everything that was to have supplied the master and his family, and the help, and then he was only half satisfied.
He was really a splendid worker; but a dangerous eater, like a bottomless cask, said the peasant. “Such a serving-man could eat up a poor peasant, house and ground, before he noticed it,” said he. He had no more work for him, and the best thing to do would be to go to the king’s castle.
So Murmur Goose-Egg went to the king, and was at once given a place, and there was enough to eat and drink in the castle. He was to be the errand-boy, and help the maids fetch wood and water, and do other odd jobs. So he asked what he was to do first.
For the time being he could chop fire-wood, said they. So Murmur Goose-Egg began to chop fire-wood, and hewed to the line in such fashion that the chips fairly flew. Before long he had chopped up all that there was, kindling wood and building wood,beams and boards, and when he was through with it, he came and asked what he was to do now.
“You can finish chopping the fire-wood,” said they.
“There is none left,” said Murmur Goose-Egg.
That could not be possible, said the superintendent, and looked into the wood-bin. Yes, indeed, Murmur Goose-Egg had chopped up everything, large and small, beams and boards. That was very bad, and therefore the superintendent said that Murmur Goose-Egg should have nothing to eat until he had chopped down just as much wood in the forest as he had just chopped up for fire-wood.
Then Murmur Goose-Egg went into the smithy, and had the smith make an iron ax of five hundred-weights. With that he went into the forest and began to chop. He chopped down big pine and fir trees, as thick as masts, and all that he found on the king’s ground, as well as what he found on that of his neighbors. But he cut off neither the branches nor the tree-tops, so that all lay there as though felled by the storm. Then he loaded a sizable stack on the sled, and put to the horses. But they could not move the load from the spot, and when he took them by the heads, in order to pull them forward, he tore off their heads. So he unharnessed them, and left them lying in the field, and put himself to the sled, and went off alone with the load. When he came to the king’s castle, there stood the king with the master carpenter in the entrance, and they were ready to give him a warm reception, becauseof the destruction he had wrought in the forest. For the master carpenter had been there and seen the havoc he had made. But when Murmur Goose-Egg came along with half the forest, the king grew frightened as well as angry, and he thought that if Murmur was so strong, it would be best to handle him with care.
“Why, you are a splendid workman,” said the king, “but tell me, how much do you really eat at once,” he continued, “for I am sure you are hungry?”
If he were to have enough porridge, they would have to take twelve tons of meal to make it; but after he had eaten that, then he could wait a while, said Murmur Goose-Egg.
It took some time before so much porridge could be prepared, and in the meantime Murmur was to carry wood into the kitchen. So he piled the whole load of wood on a sled, but when he drove it through the door, he did not go to work about it very gently. The house nearly broke from its joints, and he well-nigh tore down the entire castle. When at last dinner was ready, they sent him out into the field, to call the help. He called so loudly that hill and vale reëchoed the sound. But still the people did not come quick enough to suit him. So he picked a quarrel with them, and killed twelve.
“You kill twelve of my people, and you eat for twelve times twelve of them, but how many men’s work can you do?” asked the king.
“I do the work of twelve times twelve, too,” saidMurmur. When he had eaten, he was to go to the barn and thresh. So he pulled the beam out of the roof-tree, and made a flail out of it, and when the roof threatened to fall in, he took a pine-tree with all its boughs and branches, and set it up in place of the roof-beam. Then he threshed corn and hay and straw, all together, and it seemed as though a cloud hung over the royal castle.
When Murmur Goose-Egg had nearly finished threshing, the enemy broke into the land, and war began. Then the king told him to gather people about him, and go to meet the foe, and do battle with him, for he thought the enemy would probably kill him.
No, said Murmur Goose-Egg, he did not want to have the king’s people killed, he would see that he dealt with the enemy himself.
All the better, thought the king, then I am sure to get rid of him. But he would need a proper club, said Murmur.
So they sent to the smith, and he forged a club of two hundred-weights. That would only do for a nut-cracker, said Murmur Goose-Egg. So he forged another that weighed six hundred-weights, and that would do to hammer shoes with, said Murmur Goose-Egg. But the smith told him that he and all his workmen together could not forge a larger one.
Then Murmur Goose-Egg went into the smithy himself, and forged himself a club of thirty hundred-weights, and it would have taken a hundred men just to turn it around on the anvil. This might doat a pinch, said Murmur. Then he wanted a knapsack with provisions. It was sewn together out of fifteen ox-skins, and stuffed full of provisions, and then Murmur wandered down the hill with the knapsack on his back, and the club over his shoulder.
When he came near enough for the soldiers to see him, they sent to ask whether he had a mind to attack them.
“Just wait until I have eaten,” said Murmur, and sat him down behind his knapsack to eat. But the enemy would not wait, and began to fire at him. And it fairly rained and hailed musket-balls all around Murmur.
“I don’t care a fig for these blueberries,” said Murmur Goose-Egg, and feasted on quite at ease. Neither lead nor iron could wound him, and his knapsack stood before him, and caught the bullets like a wall.
Then the enemy began to throw bombs at him, and shoot at him with cannon. He hardly moved when he was struck. “O, that’s of no account!” said he.
But then a bomb flew into his wind-pipe. “Faugh!” said he, and spat it out again, and then came a chain-bullet and fell into his butter-plate, and another tore away the bit of bread from between his fingers.
Then he grew angry, stood up, took his club, pounded the ground with it, and asked whether they wanted to take the food from his mouth with the blueberries they were blowing out at him from their clumsy blow-pipes. Then he struck a few moreblows, so that the hills and valleys round about trembled, and all the enemy flew up into the air like chaff, and that was the end of the war.
When Murmur came back and asked for more work, the king was at a loss, for he had felt sure that now he was rid of him. So he knew of nothing better to do than to send him to the devil’s place.
“Now you can go to the devil, and fetch the tribute from him,” said the king. Murmur Goose-Egg went off with his knapsack on his back, and his club over his shoulder. He had soon reached the right spot; but when he got there the devil was away at a trial. There was no one home but his grandmother, and she said she had never yet heard anything about a tribute, and that he was to come back some other time.
“Yes, indeed, come again to-morrow,” said he. “I know that old excuse!” But since he was there, he would stay there, for he had to take home the tribute, and he had plenty of time to wait. But when he had eaten all his provisions, he grew weary, and again demanded the tribute from the grandmother.
“You will get nothing from me, and that’s as flat as the old fir-tree outside is fast,” said the devil’s grandmother. The fir-tree stood in front of the gate to the devil’s place, and was so large that fifteen men could hardly girdle it with their arms. But Murmur climbed up into its top and bent and shook it to and fro as though it were a willow wand, and then asked the devil’s grandmother once more whether she would now pay him the tribute.
So she did not dare to refuse any longer, and brought out as much money as he could possibly carry in his knapsack. Then he set out for home with the tribute, and now no sooner had he gone than the devil came home, and when he learned that Murmur had taken along a big bag of money, he first beat his grandmother, and then hurried after Murmur. And he soon caught up to him, for he ran over sticks and stones, and sometimes flew in between; while Murmur had to stick to the highway with his heavy knapsack. But with the devil at his heels, he began to run as fast as he could, and stretched out the club behind him, to keep the devil from coming to close quarters. And thus they ran along, one behind the other; while Murmur held the shaft and the devil the end of the club, until they reached a deep valley. There Murmur jumped from one mountain-top to another, and the devil followed him so hotly that he ran into the club, fell down into the valley and broke his foot—and there he lay.
“THERE MURMUR JUMPED FROM ONE MOUNTAIN-TOP TO ANOTHER” —Page 189“THERE MURMUR JUMPED FROM ONE MOUNTAIN-TOP TO ANOTHER”—Page 189
“There’s your tribute!” said Murmur Goose-Egg, when he had reached the royal castle, and he flung down the knapsack full of money before the king, so that the whole castle tottered. The king thanked him kindly, and promised him a good reward, and a good character, if he wanted it; but Murmur only wanted more work to do.
“What shall I do now?” he asked. The king reflected for a while, and then he said Murmur should travel to the hill-troll, who had robbed him of thesword of his ancestors. He lived in a castle by the sea, where no one ventured to go.
Murmur was given a few cart-loads of provisions in his big knapsack, and once more set out. Long he wandered, though, over field and wood, over hills and deep valleys, till he came to a great mountain where the troll lived who had robbed the king of the sword.
But the troll was not out in the open, and the mountain was closed, so Murmur could not get it. So he joined a party of stone-breakers, who were working at a mountainside, and worked along with them. They had never had such a helper, for Murmur hewed away at the rocks till they burst, and stone bowlders as large as houses came rolling down. But when he was about to rest and eat up the first cart-load of his provisions, it had already been eaten up. “I have a good appetite myself,” said Murmur, “but whoever got hold of it has an even better one, for he has eaten up the bones as well!”
Thus it went the first day, and the second was no better. On the third day he went to work again, and took along the third cart-load, lay down behind it, and pretended to be sleeping.
Then a troll with seven heads came out of the hill, began to smack his lips, and eat of his provisions.
“Now the table is set, so now I am going to eat,” said he.
“First we’ll see about that,” said Murmur, and hewed away at the troll so that the heads flew from his body.
Then he went into the hill out of which the troll had come, and inside stood a horse eating out of a barrel of glowing ashes, while behind him stood a barrel filled with oats.
“Why don’t you eat out of the barrel of oats?” asked Murmur Goose-Egg.
“Because I cannot turn around,” said the horse.
“I will turn you around,” said Murmur Goose-Egg.
“Tear my head off instead,” pleaded the horse.
Murmur did so, and then the horse turned into a fine-looking man. He said that he had been enchanted, and turned into a horse by the troll. Then he helped Murmur look for the sword, which the troll had hidden under the bed. But in the bed lay the troll’s grandmother, and she was snoring.
They went home by water, and just as they sailed off the old troll grandmother came after them; but she could not get at them, hence she commenced to drink, so that the water went down and grew lower. But at last she could not drink up the whole sea, and so she burst.
When they came ashore, Murmur sent to the king, and had him told to have the sword fetched; but though the king sent four horses, they could not move it from the spot. He sent eight, he sent twelve, but the sword remained where it was, and could not be moved from the spot by any means. Then Murmur Goose-Egg took it up, and carried it alone.
The king could not believe his eyes when he saw Murmur once more; but he was very friendly andpromised him gold and green forests. But when Murmur asked for more work, he told him to travel to his troll’s castle, where no one dared go, and to remain there until he had built a bridge across the sound, so that people could cross. If he could do that, he would reward him well, yes, he would even give him his daughter, said the king. He would attend to it, said Murmur.
Yet no human being had ever returned thence alive; all who had gotten so far, lay on the ground dead, and crushed to a jelly, and the king thought, when sending him there, that he would never see him again.
But Murmur set out. He took with him his knapsack full of provisions, and a properly turned and twisted block of pine-wood, as well as an ax, a wedge and some wooden chips.
When he reached the sound, the river was full of drifting ice, and it roared like a waterfall. But he planted his legs firmly on the ground, and waded along until he got across. When he had warmed himself and satisfied his hunger, he wanted to sleep; but a tumult and rumbling started, as though the whole castle were to be turned upside down. The gate flew wide open, and Murmur saw nothing but a pair of yawning jaws that reached from the threshold to the top of the door.
“Let’s see who you may be? Perhaps you are an old friend of mine,” said Murmur. And sure enough, it was Master Devil. Then they played cards together. The devil would gladly have wonback some of the tribute Murmur had forced from his grandmother for the king. Yet, no matter how he played, Murmur always won; for he made a cross on the cards. And after he had won all the devil had with him, the latter had to give him some of the gold and silver that was in the castle.
In the midst of their game the fire went out, so that they could no longer tell the cards apart.
“Now we must split wood,” said Murmur. He hewed into the block of pine-wood with his ax, and drove in the wedge, but the tree-stump was tough, and would not split at once, though Murmur gave himself all manner of pains.
“You are supposed to be strong,” he said to the devil. “Spit on your hands, slap in your claws here, and pull the block apart, so that I can see what you can do!”
The devil obediently thrust both hands into the split, and tore and clawed with all his might; but suddenly Murmur Goose-Egg knocked out the wedge, and there the devil was caught in a vice, while Murmur belabored his back with the ax. The devil wailed, and begged Murmur to let him go; but Murmur would hear nothing of it until he had promised never to come back and make a nuisance of himself again. Besides that, he had to promise to build a bridge over the sound, on which one could go back and forth at all seasons of the year. And the bridge was to be completed immediately after the breaking up of the ice-drift.
“Alas!” said the devil, but there was nothingfor it but to promise if he wished to go free. Yet he made one condition, that he was to have the first soul that crossed the bridge as sound-toll.
He could have it, said Murmur. Then he let the devil out, and he ran straight home. But Murmur lay down and slept until far into the following day.
Then the king came to see whether Murmur Goose-Egg were lying crushed on the ground, or had merely been badly beaten. He had to wade through piles of money before he could reach the bed. The money was stacked up high along the walls in heaps and in bags, and Murmur lay in the bed and snored.
“May heaven help me and my daughter!” cried the king, when he saw that Murmur Goose-Egg was in the best of health. Yes, and no one could deny that everything had been well and thoroughly done, said the king; but there could be no talk of marriage as long as the bridge had not been built.
Then one day the bridge was finished; and on it stood the devil, ready to collect the toll promised him.
Murmur Goose-Egg wanted the king to be the first to try the bridge with him; but the king had no mind to do so, therefore Murmur himself mounted a horse, and swung up the fat dairy-maid from the castle before him on the saddle-bow—she looked almost like a gigantic block of wood—and dashed across the bridge with her so that the planks fairly thundered.
“Where is my sound-toll? Where is the soul?” cried the devil. “Sitting in this block of wood! Ifyou want her, you must spit on your hands and catch hold of her,” said Murmur Goose-Egg. “No, thank you! If she does not catch hold of me, then I’ll certainly not catch hold of her,” said the devil. “You caught me in a vice once, but you can’t fool me a second time,” said he, and flew straight home to his grandmother, and since then nothing more has been heard or seen of him.
But Murmur Goose-Egg hurried back to the castle and asked for the reward the king had promised him. And when the king hesitated and began to make all sorts of excuses, in order not to have to keep his promise, Murmur said it would be best to have a substantial knapsackful of provisions made ready, since now he, Murmur, was going to take his reward himself. This the king did, and when the knapsack was ready, Murmur took the king along with him in front of the castle, and gave him a proper shove, so that he flew high up into the air. And he threw the knapsack up after him, so that he would not be left altogether without provisions; and if he has not come down yet, then he, together with the knapsack, is floating between heaven and earth to this very day.
NOTE“Murmur Goose-Egg” (Asbjörnsen, N.F.E., p. 172, No. 96. From Gudbrandsdal, title and introduction after a variant from the vicinity of Christiania) is predestined to great deeds from birth, like his Swedish counterpart Knös. This giant fellow, who fears neither death nor the devil, if he only has enough to eat, is of old a favorite figure in Norse fairy-tale. It is by means of similar giant fooleriesthat Thor, the god of the Norwegian peasant, was made ridiculous, and shown up as a braggart; and in the Song of Harbord he is mocked because of his fondness for herring and mush, the very dish Murmur demands before he crawls from the egg. Thor is also credited with a trip to the nether world, just as Murmur is sent to the devil in hell, to collect a tribute.
NOTE
“Murmur Goose-Egg” (Asbjörnsen, N.F.E., p. 172, No. 96. From Gudbrandsdal, title and introduction after a variant from the vicinity of Christiania) is predestined to great deeds from birth, like his Swedish counterpart Knös. This giant fellow, who fears neither death nor the devil, if he only has enough to eat, is of old a favorite figure in Norse fairy-tale. It is by means of similar giant fooleriesthat Thor, the god of the Norwegian peasant, was made ridiculous, and shown up as a braggart; and in the Song of Harbord he is mocked because of his fondness for herring and mush, the very dish Murmur demands before he crawls from the egg. Thor is also credited with a trip to the nether world, just as Murmur is sent to the devil in hell, to collect a tribute.
Onceupon a time, long, long years ago, there lived a well-to-do old couple on a homestead up in Hadeland. They had a son, who was a dragoon, a big, handsome fellow. They had a pasture in the hills, and the hut was not like most of the herdsmen’s huts; but was well and solidly built, and even had a chimney, a roof and a window. And there they spent the summer; but when they came back home in the fall, the wood-cutters and huntsmen and fishermen, and whoever else had business in the woods at that time, noticed that the mountain folk had carried on its tricks with their herd. And among the mountain folk was a maiden who was so beautiful that her like had never been seen.
The son had often heard tell of her, and one fall, when his parents had already come home from the mountain pasture, he put on his full uniform, saddled his service horse, thrust his pistols in the holsters, and thus rode up into the hills. When he rode toward the pasture, such a fire burned in the herdsman’s hut that it lit up every road, and then he knew that the mountain folk were inside. So he tied his horse to a pine-tree, took a pistol from its holster, crept up to the hut, and peeped through thewindow. And there sat an old man and a woman who were quite crooked and shriveled up with age, and so unspeakably ugly that he had never seen anything like it in his life; but with them was a maiden, and she was so surpassingly beautiful that he fell in love with her at once, and felt that he could not live without her. All had cow’s tails, and the lovely maiden, too. And he could see that they had only just arrived, for everything was in disorder. The maiden was busy washing the ugly old man, and the woman was building a fire under the great cheese-kettle on the hearth.
At that moment the dragoon flung open the door, and shot off his pistol right above the maiden’s head, so that she tottered and fell to the ground. And then she grew every bit as ugly as she had been beautiful before, and she had a nose as long as a pistol-case.
“Now you may take her, for now she belongs to you!” said the old man. But the dragoon stood as though rooted to the spot; stood where he stood, and could not take a single step, either forward or backward. Then the old man began to wash the girl; and she looked a little better; her nose was only half its original size, and her ugly cow’s tail was tied back; but she was not as handsome, and any one who said so would not have been telling the truth.
“Now she is yours, my proud dragoon! Take her up before you on your horse, and ride into town and marry her. And you need only set the tablefor us in the little room in the bake-house; for we do not want to be with the other wedding-guests,” said the old monster, her father, “but when the dishes make the round, you can stop in where we are.”
He did not dare do anything else, and took her up before him on his horse, and made ready to marry her. But before she went to church, the bride begged one of the bridesmaids to stand close behind her, so that no one could see her tail fall off when the priest joined their hands.
So the wedding was celebrated, and when the dishes made the round, the bridegroom went out into the room where the table had been set for the old folk from the mountain. And at that time there was nothing to be seen there; but after the wedding-guests had gone, there was so much gold and silver, and such a pile of money lying there, as he had never seen together before.
For a long time all went well. Whenever guests came, his wife laid the table for the old folk in the bake-house, and on each occasion so much money was left lying there, that before long they did not know what to do with it all. But ugly she was, and ugly she remained, and he was heartily weary of her. So it was bound to happen that he sometimes flew into a rage, and threatened her with cuffs and blows. Once he wanted to go to town, and since it was fall, and the ground already frozen, the horse had first to be shod. So he went into the smithy—for he himself was a notable farrier—but, no matterwhat lie did, the horse-shoe was either too large or too small, and would not fit at all. He had no other horse at home, and he toiled away until noon and on into the afternoon. “Will you never make an end of your shoeing?” asked his wife. “You are not a very good husband; but you are a far worse farrier. I see there is nothing left for me but to go into the smithy myself and shoe the horse. This shoe is too large, you should have made it smaller, and that one is too small, you should have made it larger.”
She went into the smithy, and the first thing she did was to take the horse-shoe in both hands and bend it straight.
“There, look at it,” said she, “that is how you must do it.” And with that she bent it together again as though it were made of lead. “Now hold up the horse’s leg,” said she, and the horse-shoe fitted to a hair, so that the best farrier could not have bettered it.
“You have a great deal of strength in your fingers,” said her husband, and he looked at her.
“Do you think so?” was her reply. “What would have happened to me had you been as strong? But I love you far too dearly ever to use my strength against you,” said she.
And from that day on he was the best of husbands.
NOTE“The Troll-Wife” (Asbjörnsen,Huldreeventyr, I, p. 77. From Hadeland, told by a farrier who knew a number of fairy-tales)deals with a marriage between a Christian and a Troll. Strange to say, the woman is kind and gentle beyond all reproach, while her husband grows less kind and more brutal, and does not improve until his wife shows that troll strength and skill are still at her command.
NOTE
“The Troll-Wife” (Asbjörnsen,Huldreeventyr, I, p. 77. From Hadeland, told by a farrier who knew a number of fairy-tales)deals with a marriage between a Christian and a Troll. Strange to say, the woman is kind and gentle beyond all reproach, while her husband grows less kind and more brutal, and does not improve until his wife shows that troll strength and skill are still at her command.
Onceupon a time there was a man who lived in the little back room. He had given up his estate to the heir; but in addition he had three sons, who were named Peter, Paul and Esben, who was the youngest. All three hung around at home and would not work, for they had it too easy, and they thought themselves too good for anything like work, and nothing was good enough for them. Finally Peter once heard that the king wanted a shepherd for his hares, and he told his father he would apply for the position, as it would just suit him, seeing that he wished to serve no one lower in rank than the king. His father, it is true, was of the opinion that there might be other work that would suit him better, for whoever was to herd hares would have to be quick and spry, and not a sleepy-head, and when the hares took to their heels in all directions, it was a dance of another kind than when one skipped about a room. But it was of no use. Peter insisted, and would have his own way, took his knapsack, and shambled down hill. After he had gone a while, he saw an old woman who had got her nose wedged in a tree-stump while chopping wood, and when Peter saw her jerking andpulling away, trying to get out, he burst into loud laughter.
“Don’t stand there and laugh in such a stupid way,” said the woman, “but come and help a poor, feeble old woman. I wanted to split up some fire-wood, and caught my nose here, and here I have been standing for more than a hundred years, pulling and jerking, without a bit of bread to chew in all that time,” said she.
Then Peter had to laugh all the harder. He found it all very amusing, and said that if she had already been standing there a hundred years, then she could probably hold out for another hundred years or more.
When he came to court they at once took him on as a herdsman. The place was not bad, there was good food, and good wages, and the chance of winning the princess besides; yet if no more than a single one of the king’s hares were to be lost, they would cut three red strips from his back, and throw him into the snake-pit.
As long as Peter was on the common or in the enclosure, he kept his hares together nicely, but later, when they reached the forest, they ran away from him across the hills. Peter ran after them with tremendous leaps, as long as he thought he could catch even a single hare, but when the very last one had vanished, his breath was gone, and he saw no more of them. Toward noon he went home, taking his time about it, and when he reached the enclosure, he looked around for them on all sides,but no hares came. And then, when he came to the castle, there stood the king with the knife in his hand. He cut three red strips from his back, and cast him into the snake-pit.
After a while Paul decided to go to the castle and herd the king’s hares. His father told him what he had told Peter, and more besides; but he insisted on going, and would not listen, and he fared neither better nor worse than Peter had. The old woman stood and pulled and jerked at her nose in the tree-trunk, and he laughed, found it very amusing, and let her stand there and torment herself. He was at once taken into service, but the hares all ran away across the hills, though he pursued them, and worked away like a shepherd dog in the sun, and when he came back to the castle in the evening minus his hares, there stood the king with the knife in his hand, cut three broad strips from his back, rubbed in pepper and salt, and flung him into the snake-pit.
Then, after some time had passed, the youngest decided to set out to herd the king’s hares, and told his father of his intention. He thought that would be just the work for him, to loaf about in forest and field, look for strawberry patches, herd a flock of hares, and lie down and sleep in the sun between times. His father thought that there was other work that would suit him better, and that even if he fared no worse than his brothers, it was quite certain that he would fare no better. Whoever herded the king’s hares must not drag along as though he had lead in his soles, or like a fly on a limerod; and that whenthe hares took to their heels, it was a horse of another color from catching flees with gloved hands; whoever wanted to escape with a whole back, would have to be more than quick and nimble, and swifter than a bird. But there was nothing he could do. Esben merely kept on saying that he wanted to go to court and serve the king, for he would not take service with any lesser master, said he; and he would see to the hares, they could not be much worse than a herd of goats or of calves. And with that he took his knapsack and strolled comfortably down the hill.
After he had wandered a while, and began to feel a proper hunger, he came to the old woman who was wedged by the nose in the tree-trunk and who was pulling and jerking away, in order to get loose.
“Good day, mother,” said Esben, “and why are you worrying yourself so with your nose, you poor thing?” “No one has called me mother for the last hundred years,” said the old woman, “but come and help me out, and give me a bite to eat; for I have not had a bit to eat in all that time. And I will do something for your sake as well,” said she.
Yes, no doubt she would need something to eat and drink badly, said Esben.
Then he hewed the tree-trunk apart, so that she got her nose out of the cleft, sat down to eat, and shared with her. The old woman had a good appetite, and she received a good half of his provisions.
When they were through she gave Esben a whistle which had the power that if he blew into one end,whatever he wished scattered was scattered to all the winds, and when he blew into the other, all came together again. And if the whistle passed from his possession, it would return as soon as he wished it back.
“That is a wonderful whistle!” thought Esben.
When he came to the castle, they at once took him on as a shepherd; the place was not bad, he was to have food and wages, and should he manage to herd the king’s hares without losing one of them, he might possibly win the princess; but if he lost so much as a single hare, and no matter how small it might be, then they would cut three red strips from his back, and the king was so sure of his case that he went right off to whet his knife. It would be a simple matter to herd the hares, thought Esben; for when they went off they were as obedient as a herd of sheep, and so long as they were on the common, and in the enclosure, they even marched in rank and file. But when they reached the forest, and noon-time came, and the sun burned down on hill and dale, they all took to their heels and ran away across the hills.
“Hallo, there! So you want to run away!” called Esben, and blew into one end of his whistle, and then they scattered the more quickly to all the ends of the earth. But when he had reached an old charcoal-pit, he blew into the other end of his whistle, and before he knew it the hares were back again, and standing in rank and file so he could review them, just like a regiment of soldiers on the drill-ground.
“That is a splendid whistle!” thought Esben; lay down on a sunny hillock, and fell asleep. The hares were left to their own devices, and played until evening; then he once more whistled them together, and took them along to the castle like a herd of sheep.
The king and queen and the princess, too, stood in the hall-way, and wondered what sort of a fellow this was, who could herd hares without losing a single one. The king reckoned and added them up, and counted with his fingers, and then added them up again; but not even the teeny-weeniest hare was missing. “He is quite a chap, he is,” said the princess.
“THE KING RECKONED AND ADDED THEM UP, AND COUNTED WITH HIS FINGERS.” —Page 207“THE KING RECKONED AND ADDED THEM UP, AND COUNTED WITH HIS FINGERS.”—Page 207
The following day he again went to the forest, and herded his hares; but while he lay in all comfort beside a strawberry patch, they sent out the chamber-maid from the castle to him, and she was to find out how he managed to herd the king’s hares.
He showed her his whistle, and blew into one end, and all the hares darted away across the hills in all directions, and then he blew into the other, and they came trotting up from all sides, and once more stood in rank and file. “That is a wonderful whistle,” said the chamber-maid. She would gladly give him a hundred dollars, if he cared to sell it.
“Yes, it is a splendid whistle,” said Esben, “and I will not sell it for money. But if you give me a hundred dollars, and a kiss with every dollar to boot, then I might let you have it.”
Yes, indeed, that would suit her right down to theground; she would gladly give him two kisses with every dollar, and feel grateful, besides.
So she got the whistle, but when she reached the castle, the whistle disappeared all of a sudden. Esben had wished it back again, and toward evening he came along, driving his hares like a herd of sheep. The king reckoned and counted and added, but all to no purpose, for not the least little hare was missing.
When Esben was herding his hares the third day, they sent the princess to him to get away his pipe from him. She was tickled to death, and finally offered him two hundred dollars if he would let her have the whistle, and would also tell her what she had to do in order to fetch it safely home with her.
“Yes, it is a very valuable whistle,” said Esben, “and I will not sell it,” but at last, as a favor to her, he said he would let her have it if she gave him two hundred dollars, and a kiss for every dollar to boot. But if she wanted to keep it, why, she must take good care of it, for that was her affair.
“That is a very high price for a hare-whistle,” said the princess, and she really shrank from kissing him, “but since we are here in the middle of the forest, where no one can see or hear us, I’ll let it pass, for I positively must have the whistle,” said she. And when Esben had pocketed the price agreed upon, she received the whistle, and held it tightly clutched in her hand all the way home; yet when she reached the castle, and wanted to show it, it disappeared out of her hands. On the following daythe queen herself set out, and she felt quite sure that she would succeed in coaxing the whistle away from him.
She was stingier, and only offered fifty dollars; but she had to raise her bid until she reached three hundred. Esben said it was a magnificent whistle, and that the price was a beggarly one; but seeing that she was the queen, he would let it pass. She was to pay him three hundred dollars, and for every dollar she was to give him a buss to boot, then she should have the whistle. And he was paid in full as agreed, since as regards the busses the queen was not so stingy.
When she had the whistle in her hands, she tied it fast, and hid it well, but she fared not a whit better than either of the others; when she wanted to show the whistle it was gone, and in the evening Esben came home, driving his hares as though they were a well-trained flock of sheep.
“You are stupid women!” said the king. “I suppose I will have to go to him myself if we really are to obtain this trumpery whistle. There seems to be nothing else left to do!” And the following day, when Esben was once more herding his hares, the king followed him, and found him at the same place where the women had bargained with him.
They soon became good friends, and Esben showed him the whistle, and blew into one end and the other, and the king thought the whistle very pretty, and finally insisted on buying it, even though it cost him a thousand dollars.
“Yes, it is a magnificent whistle,” said Esben, “and I would not sell it for money. But do you see that white mare over yonder?” said he, and pointed into the forest.
“Yes, she belongs to me, that is my Snow Witch!” cried the king, for he knew her very well.
“Well, if you will give me a thousand dollars, and kiss the white mare that is grazing on the moor by the big pine, to boot, then you can have my whistle!” said Esben.
“Is that the only price at which you will sell?” asked the king.
“Yes,” said Esben.
“But at least may I not put a silken handkerchief between?” asked the king.
This was conceded him, and thus he obtained the whistle. He put it in the purse in his pocket, and carefully buttoned up the pocket. Yet when he reached the castle, and wanted to take it out, he was in the same case as the women, for he no longer had the whistle. And in the evening Esben came home with his herd of hares, and not the least little hare was missing.
The king was angry, and furious because he had made a fool of them all, and had swindled the king’s self out of the whistle into the bargain, and now he wanted to do away with Esben. The queen was of the same opinion, and said it was best to behead such a knave when he was caught in the act.
Esben thought this neither fair nor just; for hehad only done what he had been asked to do, and had defended himself as best he knew how.
But the king said that this made no difference to him; yet if Esben could manage to fill the big brewing-cauldron till it ran over, he would spare his life.
The job would be neither long nor hard, said Esben, he thought he could warrant that, and he began to tell about the old woman with her nose in the tree-trunk, and in between he said, “I must make up plenty of stories, to fill the cauldron,”—and then he told of the whistle, and the chamber-maid who came to him and wanted to buy the whistle for a hundred dollars, and about all the kisses that she had had to give him to boot, up on the hillock by the forest; and then he told about the princess, how she had come and kissed him so sweetly for the whistle’s sake, because no one could see or hear it in the forest—“I must make up plenty of stories, in order to fill the cauldron,” said Esben. Then he told of the queen, and of how stingy she had been with her money, and how liberal with her busses—“for I must make up plenty of stories in order to fill the cauldron,” said Esben.
“But I think it must be full now!” said the queen.
“O, not a sign of it!” said the king.
Then Esben began to tell how the king had come to him, and about the white mare who was grazing on the moor, “and since he insisted on having the whistle he had to—he had to—well, with all due respect, I have to make up plenty of stories in order to fill the cauldron,” said Esben.
“Stop, stop! It is full, fellow!” cried the king. “Can’t you see that it is running over?”
The king and the queen were of the opinion that it would be best for Esben to receive the princess and half the kingdom; there did not seem anything else to do.
“Yes, it was a magnificent whistle!” said Esben.