Daryl Lorette

Loppi and Lappi

Estonia

Once a poor cottager lived with his wife in a lonely hut outside the village. The man's name was Loppi, and the woman's name was Lappi. It seems as though both of them had been born into misfortune, for nothing went well for them. In the earlier years of their marriage God had given them children, but none of them were still alive to support the parents in their old age.

Every evening husband and wife sat next to the stove like two dried-up tree stumps, and often, for no reason at all, their bitterness spilled over, and they quarreled. As everyone knows, unfortunate people usually try to push their own guilt onto others, and even if they are not willfully evil, they blame others for their own bad luck.

Thus Loppi often angrily said, "If only I had had the good luck to marry a better woman, I would have lacked nothing. Today I could have been a wealthy man."

Lappi had an even quicker tongue, and for every one of her husband's words, she came back with a dozen of her own. "Just look at you, you stupid lout! Of course it is partially my fault that in my child-like simplicity I did not know enough to choose a better husband, but there must have been witchcraft involved to make me turn to you. Only the devil knows what you secretly put into my food or drink. I had plenty of suitors, and if I had not settled for you, you miserable creature, today I could be a lady seated at a full table. It is your fault, you worthless man, that I'll be suffering from hunger and sorrow until I die. And it is also your fault that all our children have died, because you did not know how to take care of a wife and children."

This stream of words gushed forth, not ceasing until the husband stopped her mouth with his fist.

One evening the couple were again quarrelling in their hut when a stately woman dressed in clothes of German cut stepped inside. Her appearance brought the wife's tongue to a standstill, and caused the husband to lower his raised arm.

After a friendly greeting, the strange woman said, "You are poor wretches and until now have suffered much. However, three days from now your misery will suddenly end. Therefore keep peace in your house, and decide what destiny you would best choose for yourselves. I am not a human, as I appear to you, but rather a higher being who, through God's power, can cause wishes to be fulfilled. You have three days' time for consideration, and then you may state three wishes that you desire. Say your wishes aloud, and in the same instant they will come true through magic power. But be careful not to wish for unnecessary things."

Following these words, the stately woman greeting them once again, then disappeared out the door in a flash.

Loppi and Lappi, who had now forgotten their quarrel, stared speechlessly out the door through which the miraculous vision had entered and disappeared. Finally the husband said, "Let's go to bed now. We have three days to think about this. We want to use these wishes wisely, so we can get the best luck for ourselves."

Although they had three days for consideration, they spent more than half the night burdened with thoughts of which wish would be the very best. Oh, what precious freedom ruled in the hut without interruption for the next three days! Loppi and Lappi had become different people. They spoke together friendlily, and looked after one another's needs. They spent the greatest part of each day sitting quietly in the corner thinking about what they should wish for.

On the third day Loppi went into the village, where that morning a swine had been slaughtered, and the sausage kettle must just now be standing on the fire. He took with him the butter pot, with its lid, wanting to ask his neighbor's wife for sausage water to cook his cabbage in that evening. Loppi felt that they would be able to think better if their stomachs were filled with good food. Arriving home he put the cabbage on the fire so their meal would be ready at the right time.

Evening arrived, and with it the time when they could make their wishes. The pot of cabbage soup was steaming on the table, and husband and wife sat down to eat. Now they could have their wishes fulfilled. They had already eaten several spoonfuls of the tasty soup when Lappi said, contentedly, "Thanks be to God for this good soup. It will fill us up nicely, but it would taste even better if we only had a sausage to go with it!"

Bang! A large sausage fell from above onto the middle of the table. For a while husband and wife were so startled that it did not occur to them to eat the sausage. Loppi remarked that with the sausage their first wish had been fulfilled, and that so angered him that he shouted, "May the Evil One grab you and stick this sausage onto your nose! If...."

But the poor man was too frightened to continue speaking, for the sausage was already hanging from Lappi's nose, not like a normal sausage, but like a piece of flesh growing out of the nose. What could they do now? Two wishes had already been wasted, and the second one had so misshapen the woman that she would not dare to be seen by other people. They still had one wish that had not been stated, and with this one they could set everything right. At this moment poor Lappi had no other desire than to free herself from the long sausage, so she said this wish aloud, and the sausage disappeared.

Now all three wishes were gone, and Loppi and Lappi had to continue living poorly in their hut. For some time afterward they expected the beautiful woman to return, but the stranger never appeared again. Whoever fails to take immediate advantage of unexpected luck will lose it forever.

---

• Source: Friedrich Kreutzwald, "Loppi und Lappi," Estnische Märchen, vol. 2 (Dorpat: Verlag von C. Mattiesen, 1881), no. 4, pp. 23-26.

• Translated from Estonian into German by F. Löwe. Translated from German into English by D. L. Ashliman. © 2008.

Fortunio

Italy, Giovanni Francesco Straparola

Fortunio, a servant, endeavoring to crush a fly, kills his master, and saves himself from the gallows by a pleasantry.

There lived in the city of Ferrara a rich grocer of good descent, who had in his service Fortunio, a fat good-tempered fellow of very slender wit. Now in the great heats the grocer was wont to lie down to sleep in the middle of the day, and at such times it was Fortunio's part to keep off the flies with a fan, lest they should disturb his master. One day it chanced that, amongst the others, was a very greedy meddlesome horsefly, which took no heed of Fortunio's fanning, nor of his strokes, but alighted constantly on the grocer's bald pate and stung him grievously. And though the fly was chased away three or four times, it always came back to give fresh trouble.

At last the servant, incensed at the boldness and persistency of the fly, rashly made trial to kill it when it was about to settle again on his master's temple and suck his blood. Simple fool that he was, he caught up a weighty bronze pestle, and, striking at the fly with all his might with the intent to kill it, he made an end of the grocer instead.

As soon as Fortunio saw that he had slain his master and thereby made himself liable to death by the law, he took counsel with himself how he might best save his neck, and first resolved to seek safety in flight, but he afterwards fixed upon another scheme, which was to bury the corpse secretly. Therefore, having wrapped up the dead body of his master in a sack and carried it into a garden adjacent to the shop, he buried it there. This done he went to the sheepfold, and, having chosen a big old ram, he took it and threw it down the well.

As the master did not appear at his usual hour in the evening the wife's suspicion fell upon Fortunio, and she questioned him as to her husband's whereabouts, but the fellow declared stoutly that he knew nothing of it. Then the good wife, overcome with grief, began to weep and to call for her husband aloud, but she called in vain. She went to her kinsfolk and told them her grief; whereupon they sought the governor of the city, and laid the crime to Fortunio's charge, demanding that he should be imprisoned and put to the question, in order to make him tell what had become of his master.

The governor, having put the servant in hold and tied him to the rope, gave him the strappado as prescribed by law, on account of the charges against him. Handling of this sort was not to his taste, and he forthwith promised to tell all he knew, if they would let him down.

So they brought him before the judge, and this was the cunning tale he had prepared for their befooling: "Yesterday, O judge! when I was asleep near the well, I was awakened by a great noise, as of some mighty rock being hurled down into the water below. In my amazement I ran to the well and looked into it, but the water was quite clear and I could see nothing amiss; so I turned to go back to the house, when the same noise again met my ears. I am now quite sure in my mind that my master, when trying to draw some water up out of the well, fell down into it. Now, that the truth of the matter may be laid bare, I make petition that all now present may go to the spot; then I will descend into the well and disclose what I may find therein."

The judge was favorable to Fortunio's prayer, holding that experiment is the surest proof, and that no evidence can equal what is brought before one's eyes, and betook himself to the well, bidding the whole assembly follow. There went not only the worshipful persons who were about the judge, but also a vast crowd of the common people, who were curious to learn what might be the issue of the affair.

Fortunio, obeying the commandment of the judge, went straightway down the well, and, when he had reached the bottom, made believe to be searching for his master's body in the water; but what he found was the carcass of the old ram which he himself had lately cast in.

Feigning to be vastly amazed at this, the cunning fellow bawled up from the bottom of the well, "O my mistress! Tell me whether your husband, my poor master, had horns or not; for I have alighted on somebody down here who has got an enormous pair, both long and large. Is it possible that he can be your husband?"

And when the good wife heard Fortunio's question she was so much overcome with shame that she could not find a word to say for herself. Meanwhile the bystanders waited, open-mouthed with curiosity, to set eyes on this corpse with horns, and to see whether it really was the body of the missing grocer or not; and when they saw hauled up Fortunio's old ram, they all clapped their hands, and were shaken by loud laughter.

The judge, when he saw the issue of Fortunio's search, deemed that the foolish fellow was acting in good faith, and that he verily believed what he brought out of the well to be the remains of his master. On this account the judge let him go free, as innocent, but the grocer was never seen more, and the good wife, to her dying day, bore the shame anent the horns which Fortunio's cunning trick had cast upon her.

---

• Source: Giovanni Francesco Straparola, The Facetious Nights night 13, tale 4, in: The Italian Novelists, vol. 4 (London: Privately printed for members of the Society of Bibliophiles, 1901), pp. 149-56.)

• We know almost nothing about the personal life of Giovanni Francesco [also spelled Gianfrancesco] Straparola (ca. 1480 - ca. 1557). His two-volume work Le piacevoli notti (1550-1553), called in English The Facetious Nights of Straparola or simply The Nights of Straparola, contains some 75 novellas and fairy tales, some of oriental origin. Obviously patterning his collection after Boccaccio's Decamerone, Straparola depicts here thirteen nights of revelry in a luxurious villa on the island of Murano near Venice. The participants add to the entertainment by telling one another stories. Included are tales of magic and the supernatural as well as bawdy jokes and anecdotes. Straparola's work is one of Europe's earliest collections of stories based largely on folklore.

The Flood Story

Igorot

Once upon a time, when the world was flat and there were no mountains, there lived two brothers, sons of Lumawig, the Great Spirit. The brothers were fond of hunting, and since no mountains had formed there was no good place to catch wild pig and deer, and the older brother said, "Let us cause water to flow over all the world and cover it, and then mountains will rise up."

So they caused water to flow over all the earth, and when it was covered they took the head-basket [a bamboo basket, in which the heads of victims are kept prior to the head-taking celebration] of the town and set it for a trap. The brothers were very much pleased when they went to look at their trap, for they had caught not only many wild pigs and deer, but also many people.

Now Lumawig looked down from his place in the sky and saw that his sons had flooded the earth and that in all the world there was just one spot which was not covered. And he saw that all the people in the world had been drowned except one brother and sister who lived in Pokis.

Then Lumawig descended, and he called to the boy and girl, saying, "Oh, you are still alive."

"Yes," answered the boy, "we are still alive, but we are very cold."

So Lumawig commanded his dog and deer to get fire for the boy and girl. The dog and the deer swam quickly away, but though Lumawig waited a long time they did not return, and all the time the boy and girl were growing colder.

Finally Lumawig himself went after the dog and the deer, and when he reached them he said, "Why are you so long in bringing the fire to Pokis? Get ready and come quickly while I watch you, for the boy and girl are very cold."

Then the dog and the deer took the fire and started to swim through the flood, but when they had gone only a little way, the fire was put out.

Lumawig commanded them to get more fire and they did so, but they swam only a little way again when that of the deer went out, and that of the dog would have been extinguished also had not Lumawig gone quickly to him and taken it.

As soon as Lumawig reached Pokis he built a big fire which warmed the brother and sister; and the water evaporated so that the world was as it was before, except that now there were mountains. The brother and sister married and had children, and thus there came to be many people on the earth.

---

• Source: Mabel Cook Cole, Philippine Folk Tales (Chicago: A. C. McClurg and Company, 1916), pp. 102-104.

• Notes by Mabel Cook Cole:
  1. The mythology of nearly all peoples has a flood story.
  2. A bamboo basket, in which the heads of victims are kept prior to the head-taking celebration.
  3. The folklore of all countries has some story accounting for the acquisition of fire. The Tinguian tale is as follows: Once in the very old times Kaboniyan sent a flood which covered all the land. Then there was no place for the fire to stay, so it went into the bamboo, the stones, and iron. That is why one who knows how can still get fire out of bamboo and stones.

The King Who Wished to Marry His Daughter

Scotland

There was a king before now, and he married, and he had but one daughter. When his wife departed, he would marry none but one whom her clothes would fit. His daughter one day tried her mother's dress on, and she came and she let her father see how it fitted her. It was fitting her well. When her father saw her he would marry no woman but her.

She went crying where her muime was; and her foster mother said to her, "What was the matter with her?"

She said, "that her father was insisting that he would marry her."

Her muime told her to say to him, "that she would not marry him till he should get her a gown of the swan's down."

He went, and at the end of a day and a year he came, and the gown with him.

She went again to take the counsel of her muime. "Say to him," said her muime, "that thou wilt not marry him till he gets thee a gown of the moorland canach."

She said this to him. He went, and at the end of a day and year he returned, and a gown of the moorland canach with him.

"Say now to him," said her muime, "that thou wilt not marry him till he brings thee a gown of silk that will stand on the ground with gold and silver."

At the end of a day and year he returned with the gown.

"Say to him now," said her muime, "that thou wilt not marry him till he brings thee a golden shoe, and a silver shoe."

He got her a golden shoe and a silver shoe.

"Say to him now," said her muime, "that thou wilt not marry him unless he brings thee a kist that will lock without and within, and for which it is all the same to be on sea or on land."

When she got the kist, she folded the best of her mother's clothes, and of her own clothes in it. Then she went herself into the kist, and she asked her father to put it out on the sea to try how it would swim. Her father put it out; when it was put out, it was going, and going, till it went out of sight.

It went on shore on the other side; and a herd came where it was, intending to break it, in hopes that there were findings in the chest.

When he was going to break it she called out, "Do not so, but say to thy father to come here, and he will get that which will better him for life."

His father came, and he took her with him to his own house. It was with a king that he was herd, and the king's house was near him.

"If I could get," said she, "leave to go to service to this great house yonder."

"They want none," said the herd, "unless they want one under the hand of the cook."

The herd went to speak for her, and she went as a servant maid under the hand of the cook.

When the rest were going to the sermon; and when they asked her if she was going to it, she said, "that she was not; that she had a little bread to bake, and that she could not go to it."

When they went away, she took herself to the herd's house, and she put on a gown of the down of the swan. She went to the sermon, and she sat opposite the king's son. The king's son took love for her. She went a while before the sermon skailed, she reached the herd's house, she changed her clothes, and she was in before them. When the rest came home, it was talking about the gentlewoman that was at the sermon they were.

The next Sunday they said to her, "Was she going to the sermon?" and she said, "that she was not, that she had a little bread to bake."

When they went away, she reached the herd's house, and she put on a gown of the moorland canach; and she went to the sermon. The king's son was seated where she was the Sunday before, and she sat opposite to him. She came out before them, and she changed, and she was at the house before them; and when the rest came home, it was talking about the great gentlewoman that was at the sermon they were.

The third Sunday, they said to her, "Was she going to the sermon?" and she said, "that she was not, that she had a little bread to bake."

When they went away, she reached the herd's house. She put on the gown that would stand on the ground with gold and silver, and the golden shoe and the silver shoe, and she went to the sermon. The king's son was seated where she was the Sunday before, and she sat where he was. A watch was set on the doors this Sunday. She arose, she saw a cranny, and she jumped out at the cranny; but they kept hold of one of the shoes.

The king's son said, "Whomsoever that shoe would fit, she it was that he would marry."

Many were trying the shoe on, and taking off their toes and heels to try if it would fit them; but there were none whom the shoe would fit.

There was a little bird in the top of a tree, always saying as everyone was trying on the shoe, "Beeg beeg ha nan doot a heeg ach don tjay veeg a ha fo laiv a hawchkare." -- Wee wee, it comes not on thee; but on the wee one under the hand of the cook.

When he could get none whom the shoe would fit, the king's son lay down, and his mother went to the kitchen to talk over the matter.

"Won't you let me see the shoe?" said she. "I will not do it any harm at all events."

"Thou! thou ugly dirty thing, that it should fit thee." She went down, and she told this to her son.

"Is it not known," said he, "that it won't fit her at all events? And can't you give it her to please her?"

As soon as the shoe went on the floor, the shoe jumped on her foot.

"What will you give me," said she, " to let you see the other one?" She reached the herd's house, and she put on the shoes, and the dress that would stand on the floor with gold and silver. When she returned, there was but to send word for a minister, and she herself and the king's son married.

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Source: J. F. Campbell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands: Orally Collected, vol. 1 (Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1860), pp. 219-22.

Campbell's source: Ann Darroch, Islay.

All-Kinds-of-Fur

Version of 1812

Germany, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

Once upon a time there was a king whose wife was the most beautiful woman in the world, with hair of pure gold. Together they had a daughter, and she was as beautiful as her mother, and she had the same golden hair. The queen became ill, and when she felt that she was about to die, she called the king to her side and asked him not to marry anyone following her death, unless she was just as beautiful as she, and unless her hair was just as golden as hers. The king made this promise, and she died.

For a long time the king was so grieved that he did not think about a second wife, but finally his councilors advised him to marry again. He sent messengers to all the princesses, but none was as beautiful as the deceased queen, and such golden hair could not be found anywhere in the world.

Then one day the king's glance fell on his daughter, and he saw that she looked just like her mother, and that she had the same golden hair. He thought to himself, "You will never find anyone in the world this beautiful. You will have to marry your daughter." And in that instant he felt such a strong love for her, that he immediately announced his decision to his councilors. They tried to dissuade him, but to no avail.

The princess was horrified at his godless intentions, but because she was clever, she told the king that he should first get her three dresses: one as golden as the sun, one as white as the moon, one that glistened like the stars. Further, he was to get her a coat made from a thousand kinds of fur. Every animal in the kingdom would have to give up a piece of its skin for it.

The king was so fervent in his desires, that he had his huntsmen capture animals from across the entire kingdom. They were skinned, and a coat was made from their pelts. Thus, it did not take long before he brought the princess everything that she had asked for.

The princess said that she would marry him the next day. That night she sought out the presents that she had received from her fiancé: a golden ring, a little golden spinning wheel, and a little golden yarn reel. She put the three dresses into a nutshell, blackened her hands and face with soot, put on the coat of all kinds of fur, and left. She walked the entire night until she came to a great forest. She would be safe there. Because she was tired, she sat down in a hollow tree and fell asleep.

She was still asleep the next day when the king, her fiancé, came to this forest to hunt. His dogs ran up to the tree and sniffed at it. The king sent his huntsmen to see what kind of animal was in the tree. They came back and said that it was a strange animal, the likes of which they had never seen before. It had every kind of fur on its skin, and it was lying there asleep. The king ordered them to capture it and to tie it onto the back of his carriage. As the huntsmen were doing this, they saw that it was a girl. They tied her onto the back of the carriage and rode home with her.

"All-Kinds-of-Fur," they said, "you are good for the kitchen. You can carry water and wood, and clean out the ashes." Then they gave her a little stall beneath the steps, where the light of day never shone, and said, "This is where you can live and sleep."

So she had to help the cook in the kitchen. She plucked chickens, tended the fire, gathered vegetables, and did all the dirty work. Because she did very well at all this, the cook was good to her, and in the evening he often invited her in and gave her something to eat from the leftovers. Before the king went to bed, she had to go upstairs and pull off his boots. When she had pulled them off, he always threw them at her head. Poor All-Kinds-of-Fur lived like this for a long time. Oh, you beautiful maiden, what will become of you?

Once there was a ball at the castle, and All-Kinds-of-Fur thought that she might see her fiancé once again, so she went to the cook and asked him if he would allow her to go upstairs a little and look in at the splendor from the doorway. "Go ahead," said the cook, "but do not stay longer than a half hour. You still have to clean out the ashes tonight."

Then All-Kinds-of-Fur took her little oil lamp and went to her stall where she washed off the soot. Her beauty came forth just like blossoms in the springtime. She took off the fur coat, opened up the nut and took out the dress that glistened like the sun. She put it on and went upstairs. Everyone made room for her, and thought that a noble princess had entered the hall. The king immediately invited her to dance, and as he danced with her, he thought how closely this unknown princess resembled his own fiancée. The longer he looked at her, the stronger the resemblance. He was almost certain that this was his fiancée, and at the end of the dance, he was going to ask her. However, when they finished dancing, she bowed, and before the king knew what was happening, she disappeared.

He asked the watchmen, but none of them had seen the princess leave the castle. She had run quickly to her stall, taken off the dress, blackened her hands and face, and put on the fur coat once again. Then she went to the kitchen to clean out the ashes, but the cook said, "Leave them until morning. I want to go upstairs and have a look at the dance. You make some soup for the king, but don't let any hairs fall into it, or there will be nothing more to eat for you."

All-Kinds-of-Fur made some bread soup for the king, then she put the golden ring in it that he had given her. When the ball was over, the king had his bread soup brought to him. It tasted better than any he had ever eaten. When he was finished, he found the ring on the bottom of the bowl. Looking at it carefully, he saw that it was his engagement ring. Astonished, he could not understand how it had gotten there. He summoned the cook, who then became very angry with All-Kinds-of-Fur. "You must have let a hair fall into the soup," he said. "If you did, there will be blows for you."

However, when the cook went upstairs, the king asked him who had made the soup, because it had been better than usual. The king had to confess that it had been All-Kinds-of-Fur. Then the king had her sent up to him. "Who are you?" he asked upon her arrival. "What are you doing in my castle, and where did you get the ring that was lying in the soup?"

She answered, "I am only a poor child whose father and mother are dead. I have nothing, and I am good for nothing more than having boots thrown at my head. And I know nothing about the ring." With that she ran away.

Soon there was another ball. All-Kinds-of-Fur again asked the cook to allow her to go upstairs. The cook gave his permission, but only for a half hour, because by then she would have to be back in the kitchen to make the king's bread soup. All-Kinds-of-Fur went to her stall, washed herself clean, and took out the moon-dress. It was purer and brighter than newly fallen snow. When she arrived upstairs the dance had just begun. The king extended his hand to her, and danced with her, and no longer doubted that this was his fiancée, for no one else in the world had such golden hair. However, the princess immediately slipped out when the dance ended, and the king, in spite of his great effort, could not find her. Further, he had not spoken a single word with her.

She was All-Kinds-of-Fur once again, with blackened hands and face. She took her place in the kitchen and made bread soup for the king, while the cook went upstairs to have a look. When the soup was ready, she put the golden spinning wheel in it. The king ate the soup, and thought that it was even better this time. When he found the golden spinning wheel, he was even more astonished, because it had been a present from him to his fiancée some time ago. The cook was summoned again, and then All-Kinds-of-Fur, but once again she answered by saying that she knew nothing about it, and that she was there only to have boots thrown at her head.

For the third time, the king held a ball. He hoped that his fiancée would come again, and he would not let her escape this time. All-Kinds-of-Fur again asked the cook to allow her to go upstairs, but he scolded her, saying, "You are a witch. You are always putting things in the soup. And you can cook better than I can." But because she begged so, and promised to behave herself, he gave her permission to go upstairs for a half hour.

She put on the dress of stars. It glistened like stars in the night. She went upstairs and danced with the king, and he thought that he had never seen her more beautiful. While dancing, he slipped a ring onto her finger. He had ordered that it should be a very long dance. He could not bring himself to speak to her, nor could he keep her from escaping. As soon as the dance ended, she jumped into the crowd and disappeared before he could turn around.

She ran to her stall. Because she had been gone more than a half hour, she quickly took off her dress, and in her rush she failed to blacken herself entirely. One finger remained white. When she returned to the kitchen, the cook had already left. She quickly made some bread soup and put the golden yarn reel into it.

The king found it, just as he had found the ring and the golden spinning wheel, and now he knew for sure that his fiancée was nearby, for no one else could have had these presents. All-Kinds-of-Fur was summoned. Once again she tried to make an excuse and then run away, but as she ran by, the king noticed a white finger on her hand, and he held her fast. He found the ring that he had slipped onto her finger, and then he ripped off her fur coat. Her golden hair flowed out, and he saw that it was his dearly beloved fiancée. The cook received a generous reward. Then they got married and lived happily until they died.

---

Notes:

Source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, "Allerlei-Rauh," Kinder- und Hausmärchen, 1st ed. (Berlin: Realschulbuchhandlung, 1812/1815), vol. 1, no. 65, pp. 308-316.

Incest, one of our strongest taboos, has, until our own era, largely escaped exposure and discussion on the printed page. Publishers of folktales dealing with incest have gotten around the taboo in various ways. One of the most disingenuous solutions was used in the following passage from a nineteenth-century English "translation" of the Grimms' "All-Kinds-of-Fur":

Now, the King had a daughter, who was just as beautiful as her dead mother, and had just such golden hair. One day when she had grown up, her father looked at her, and saw that she was exactly like her mother, so he said to his councilors, "I will marry my daughter to one of you, and she shall be queen, for she is exactly like her dead mother, and when I die her husband shall be king." But when the Princess heard of her father's decision, she was not at all pleased, and said to him, "Before I do your bidding, I must have three dresses; one as golden as the sun, one as silver as the moon, and one as shining as the stars. Besides these, I want a cloak made of a thousand different kinds of skin; every animal in your kingdom must give a bit of his skin to it." But she thought to herself, "This will be quite impossible, and I shall not have to marry someone I do not care for." -- Andrew Lang, The Green Fairy Book (London: Longmans, Green and Company.1892), p. 276.

Other versions of the story (including later Grimm editions) make it abundantly clear that the fiancé mentioned here is a different king, not her own father.

Beginning with the edition of 1819, the Grimms omitted the episode describing how the young king threw his boots at the heroine's head. The Grimms obviously wanted to de-emphasize the abusive nature of the relationship between the two lovers. However, most versions of the tale describe how the "hero" belittles, and possibly beats the woman he will later marry.

Link to an English translation of the version of 1857: All-Kinds-of-Fur.

The Man Hitched to a Plow

France/Germany

At Metz in Lorraine there lived a noble knight by the name of Alexander with his beautiful and virtuous wife Florentina. This knight vowed to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Grave. Unable to dissuade him from this journey, his sorrowful wife made for him a white shirt with a red cross and asked him to wear it.

The knight then journeyed abroad and was captured by the infidels. He and his unfortunate companions were hitched to a plow and under the blows of a whip were forced to till the fields until blood ran from their bodies. Miraculously, only the shirt that Alexander had received from his wife and which he always wore remained clean and unstained. Rain, sweat, and blood did it no harm, nor did it tear.

The Sultan himself learned of this rare circumstance, and he asked the slave precisely about his name, where he was from, and who had given him the shirt. The knight told him everything, adding, "I have the shirt from my virtuous wife. That it remains so white proves to me her continuing faithfulness and chastity."

The pagan, his curiosity aroused by this news, resolved to secretly send one of his people to Metz who should spare neither money nor property in order to seduce the knight's wife, and thus determine if the shirt's color would change.

The foreigner journeyed to Lorraine, scouted out the wife, then reported to her how miserable her husband was in the pagan land. This greatly saddened her, but she remained steadfastly virtuous. The emissary spent all his money in his unsuccessful attempts to seduce her, then returned to Turkey.

Soon afterward Florentina dressed herself as a pilgrim, took up her harp, which she played very well, and set forth following foreign pagan. She caught up with him in Venice, then traveled with him to the land of the pagans, without his recognizing her in her disguise.

Arriving at the pagan king's court, the pilgrim so captured him with singing and playing that great presents were offered to her. Rejecting them all, the pilgrim requested one of the captured Christians who were plowing. The request was granted, and Florentina, unrecognized, went to the prisoners, coming finally to the plow where her husband was hitched. Then she requested and received this prisoner, and together they journeyed safely across the sea until they arrived home in Germany. While still a two days' journey from Metz, the pilgrim said to Alexander, "Brother, our paths part here. As a remembrance give me a little piece from your shirt, whose miracle I have heard so much about, so that I can tell and convince others about it."

The knight agreed to this, cut a piece from the shirt and gave it to the pilgrim. Then they parted. However, Florentina took a shorter way and arrived in Metz one whole day earlier than he did. She put on her accustomed women's clothes and awaited her husband's arrival. Alexander greeted his wife most tenderly, but soon afterward his friends and relatives began whispering to him that Florentina had traveled about the world for twelve months, leading an immoral life and letting no one hear from her.

Alexander, burning with anger, ordered a feast where he publicly accused his wife of unbecoming behavior. Saying nothing, she left the room, went to her chamber, put on the pilgrim's garb that she had worn at that time, took up her harp, and then reappeared. Holding the piece cut from his shirt in her hand, she proved that she had been the pilgrim who had redeemed him from the plow. Then all her accusers fell silently at her feet, and her husband tearfully begged her for forgiveness.

---

• Source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Der Mann im Pflug, Deutsche Sagen, v. 2 (1818), no. 537.

• Translated by D. L. Ashliman.

• The Grimms' source: A Flemish chapbook entitled Florentina de getrouwe.

• Lorraine is a region in France that has historical ties to Germany.

The Two Humpbacks

Italy

There were once two companions who were humpbacks, but one more so than the other. They were both so poor that they had not a penny to their names. One of them said: "I will go out into the world, for here there is nothing to eat; we are dying of hunger. I want to see whether I can make my fortune."

"Go," said the other. "If you make your fortune, return, and I will go and see if I can make mine." So the humpback set off on his journey. Now these two humpbacks were from Parma. When the humpback had gone a long way, he came to a square where there was a fair, at which everything was sold.

There was a person selling cheese, who cried out: "Eat the little Parmesan!" The poor humpback thought he meant him, so he ran away and hid himself in a courtyard. When it was one o'clock, he heard a clanking of chains and the words "Saturday and Sunday" repeated several times.

Then he answered: "And Monday."

"Oh, heavens!" said they who were singing. "Who is this who has harmonized with our choir?"

They searched and found the poor humpback hidden. "O gentlemen!" he said, "I have not come here to do any harm, you know!"

"Well! we have come to reward you; you have harmonized our choir; come with us!" They put him on a table and removed his hump, healed him, and gave him two bags of money.

"Now," they said, "you can go." He thanked them and went away without his hump. He liked it better, you can believe! He returned to his place at Parma, and when the other humpback saw him he exclaimed: "Does not that look just like my friend? But he had a hump! It is not he! Listen! You are not my friend so and so, are you?"

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"Listen! Were you not a humpback?"

"Yes. They have removed my hump and given me two bags of money. I will tell you why. I reached," he continued, "such and such a place, and I heard them beginning to say, 'Eat the little Parmesan! Eat the little Parmesan!' I was so frightened that I hid myself." (He mentioned the place -- in a courtyard.) "At a certain hour, I heard a noise of chains and a chorus singing: 'Saturday and Sunday.' After two or three times, I said: 'And Monday.' They came and found me, saying that I had harmonized their chorus, and they wanted to reward me. They took me, removed my hump, and gave me two bags of money."

"Oh, heavens!" said the other humpback. "I want to go there, too!"

"Go, poor fellow, go! Farewell!"

The humpback reached the place, and hid himself precisely where his companion had. After a while he heard a noise of chains, and the chorus: "Saturday and Sunday!" Then another chorus: "And Monday!" After the humpback had heard them repeat: "Saturday and Sunday, and Monday!" several times, he added: "And Tuesday!"

"Where," they exclaimed, "is he who has spoiled our chorus? If we find him, we will tear him in pieces." Just think! they struck and beat this poor humpback until they were tired; then they put him on the same table on which they had placed his companion, and said: "Take that hump and put it on him in front."

So they took the other's hump and fastened it to his breast, and then drove him away with blows. He went home and found his friend, who cried: "Mercy! Is not that my friend? But it cannot be, for this one is humpbacked in front. Listen," he said, "are you not my friend?"

"The same," he answered, weeping. "I did not want to bear my own hump, and now I have to carry mine and yours! and so beaten and reduced, you see!"

"Come," said his friend, "come home with me, and we will eat a mouthful together; and don't be disheartened."

And so, every day, he dined with his friend, and afterward they died, I imagine.

---

Source: Thomas Frederick Crane, Italian Popular Tales (Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, and Company, 1883), pp. 103-104.

Thriller

The Öiestad (Øyestad) Horn

Norway

Near the river Nid in Nedenæs there is a mansion called Neersteen, in which there once dwelt a man named Siur, who was both powerful and rich; for besides Neersteen he owned six other mansions, and a considerable salmon fishery in the Nid; but what was more than all these, he had a daughter, who was the fairest maid of all the surrounding neighbourhood. She was courted by a Westland man named Ring, but the wealthy Siur rejected him for a son-in-law, although his daughter was fondly attached to him.

The lover, however, was not disheartened, so while the father one St. John's Day was at matins in Öiestad Church, Ring came to the mansion and found his lass, although her father had taken the precaution of locking her up in one of the presses -- which, according to the custom of the time, were made at the foot of the bed -- a corner of her apron having protruded and betrayed her. They now fled, and Siur, the instant he was apprized of their elopement, mounted his horse and went in pursuit of them.

On the way he was stopped by a troll, who came out of a mount, and bade him welcome, at the same time presenting to him a full drinking horn. Instead of emptying it, he cast its contents behind him, but some drops that fell on the horse's loins instantly singed the hair off. Siur, who had from the first suspected mischief, put spurs to his horse, and galloped away with the horn in his hand and the troll whining after him.

He was now in a most serious dilemma, from which he was unexpectedly rescued by another troll, who was on terms of hostility with the former one, who called to him when he had just reached a large field: "Ride through the rye and not through the wheat."

Following this counsel he got the start of his pursuer, who could not proceed so rapidly through the tall rye. The danger was not, however, completely over until he came near the mansion of Bringsvær, when the cock crew and the troll vanished. Siur now continued his pursuit without further delays, and overtook the fugitives on a hill where they had stopped to take a few moments rest. When the men got sight of each other, they immediately drew their knives, and a contest ensued, the result of which was, that Siur stabbed Ring in the belly, who instantly gave up the ghost.

In expiation of this homicide, Siur was compelled to make heavy compensation. The horn, which he kept, was preserved in the family down to our times. Of the daughter's fate tradition makes no mention.

The (or rather a) horn, which had long been an heirloom in Siur's family, has lately been presented by Shipmaster Berge to the public library and museum of Arendal School, where it now is. It is very handsome, and has on its three silver-gilt rings the following inscription, in monkish characters: potum servorum benedic deus alme [tuorum reliqvam unus benede le un]? caspar, melchior, baltazar.

A similar occurrence to the above took place many years ago near Hahauger in Hallingdal, where one Christmas Eve a subterranean woman presented drink in a horn to a man named Gudbrand Goelberg, which he threw over his shoulder and rode off with the horn; but down to the ninth generation, his posterity, as a penalty, were afflicted with some bodily blemish or defect, as the troll had threatened. This horn, which was long preserved at Halsteensgaard in Aal, contained nearly three quarts, and was encircled by a strong gilt copper ring about three inches broad, on which, in monkish characters, stood melchior, baltazar, caspar. In the middle was a small, gilt copper plate, in which an oval crystal was set.

---

Source: Benjamin Thorpe, Northern Mythology: Comprising the Principal Popular Traditions and Superstitions of Scandinavia, North Germany, and the Netherlands, vol. 2 (London: Edward Lumley, 1851), pp. 14-15.

The Dog and the Wolf

Bohemia

Once upon a time there was a peasant family who had a watchdog named Sultan among their household animals. The dog grew old, and, thinking that he could no longer properly attend to to his duties, the peasant chased him away. Dejected and with his head hanging low, the dog left the village, complaining to himself, "So this is my reward for loyalty at a difficult job. After using up my youthful and energetic years at work, they chase me away and grant me no rest now that I am old and weak."

He sadly went his way, wandering aimlessly about for many days without finding any tolerable shelter. Emaciated and weak from his long journey, he came to a forest. A wolf came out of the forest, ran up to the poor dog, and cried, "Stop, old fellow! Beware, you are now in my power."

Hearing the wolf speak in this manner, the frightened old Sultan said, "Dear friend, just take a good look at me, and your appetite for me will disappear. I would make the worst roast you have ever had, for I am nothing but skin and bones. But I do have some advice for you."

The wolf said, "I don't need any advice from you, you miserable creature. I know what you will say even before you speak, namely that I should let you live. No, I won't change my mind. The long and the short of it is that I am going to eat you."

To this the dog answered, "I wouldn't think of asking that of you, for I do not want to live any longer. Bite away as long as you want to. But I still have good advice for you. Wouldn't it be better to fatten me up before eating me? You wouldn't loose anything on the feed, because you would get it all back on me. Then I'd make a decent roast. What do you think, Brother Wolf?"

The wolf spoke, "I'll do it, if the feeding doesn't take too long. Follow me to my hut."

The dog did this, and together they went deeper into the woods. Arriving at the hut, Sultan crept inside, while the wolf went forth to hunt some game for the weak dog. When he returned, he threw his capture to Sultan, who ate it with relish.

The next day the wolf came and spoke to the dog, "Yesterday you ate. Today I will eat."

The dog replied, "What are you thinking of, dear wolf? I scarcely felt yesterday's food in my stomach."

To be sure, this irritated the wolf, but he had to be happy with going into the woods again to hunt game for the dog. With similar responses, our Sultan put off the wolf as long as he was not strong enough to take on the wolf. The wolf continued to hunt and to bring the dog whatever he captured, eating little or nothing himself so that Sultan would have enough. Thus the dog grew ever stronger, while the opposite was true for the wolf.

On the sixth day the wolf came to the dog and spoke, "I believe that you are ready now."

Sultan answered, "Yes indeed. To be sure, I feel so well that I will take you on unless you set me free."

The wolf spoke, "You are joking! Just think, I have been feeding you for six days now, while eating nothing myself. Now am I to go away with nothing? That will never do!"

To this Sultan responded, "You are partially right, but does that give you the right to eat me up?"

"That is the right of the strong over the weak," answered the wolf.

"Right on!" replied the dog. "And thus you have pronounced judgment on yourself." With these words he made a daring leap, and before the wolf knew it, he was lying on the ground, overpowered by Sultan.

"Because you allowed me to live, I will not kill you immediately, but rather submit your life to fate. Choose two companions, and I will do the same. Tomorrow come to this place in the woods with them, and we will settle our dispute."

The two separated to seek out their fellow warriors. Angrily, the wolf went deeper into the woods. The dog hurried to the nearest village. After much pleading, the wolf got an ill-tempered, grumbling bear and a sly fox to be his comrades.

Our Sultan ran first to the parsonage, where he talked a large gray cat into going with him. Then he went to the town judge's barnyard where he found a brave rooster as a second fellow warrior.

It was just getting light, and the dog was already underway with his two companions. They had what they needed. He might even surprise his enemies while they were still deep in sleep.

The wolf was the first one to awaken. He woke his comrades, then said to the bear, "You can climb trees, can't you? Be so good as to climb that tall fir tree and see if you can't get a glimpse of our enemies."

The bear did this, and from the top of the tree he cried down, "Flee! Our enemies are very near, and what powerful enemies they are! One of them is riding proudly along, carrying many sharp sables. They glisten strongly in the morning sun. Another one is walking stealthily after him, pulling a long iron rod behind. Woe unto us!"

The fox was so frightened at these words, that he decided it would be advisable to make himself scarce. The bear hurriedly climbed down from the tree and crept into some thick brush, so that only the tip of his tail was showing.

The enemy was now at hand. The wolf, seeing that his friends had deserted him, tried to get away, but Sultan confronted him. One leap, and the dog had the wolf by the back of his neck, and he finished him off. Meanwhile, the cat noticed the tip of the bear's tail moving in the brush. Hoping to catch a mouse, she snapped at it. Terrified, the bear jumped from his hiding place and fled in all haste up a tree, where he thought he would be safe from the enemy.

But he was wrong, because the rooster was there as well. Seeing the bear in the tree, the rooster jumped from one branch to the next, always going higher and higher. The bear was beside himself. Terrified, he fell from the tree and lay there stone dead. And thus the battle ended.

The news of the brave deeds of Sultan and his companions spread far and wide, also to the village where Sultan had formerly served. As a consequence, the peasant family took back their loyal watchdog and cared for him.

---

• Source: Theodor Vernaleken, "Der Hund und der Wolf," Österreichische Kinder- und Hausmärchen: Treu nach mündlicher Überlieferung (Vienna and Leipzig: WilhelmBraumüller, 1896), no. 9, pp. 39-43.

• Translated by D. L. Ashliman. © 2000.

• The story's final episode is classified as type 104, The War between the Village Animals and the Forest Animals.

• Link to a related fable, Old Sultan by the Grimm brothers.

• Bohemia is mostly in today's Austria and the Czech Republic.

Doctor Know-All

Germany

Once upon a time there was a poor peasant by the name of Crab who drove two oxen with a load of wood into town where he sold it to a doctor for two thalers. He received his money just as the doctor was sitting down to eat. When the peasant saw how well the doctor ate and drank, his heart took a longing for the same things, and he decided that he would like to have been a doctor. He stood there for a while, and then asked if he too could not become a doctor.

"Certainly," said the doctor, "in no time at all."

"What do I have to do?" asked the peasant.

First of all, buy yourself an ABC-book, one that has a picture of a rooster up front. Second, sell your wagon and your two oxen and buy yourself some clothing and other things that doctors use. Third, have yourself a sign painted with the words 'I am Doctor Know-All' and nail it above the door to your house."

The peasant did everything he was told to do. After he had doctored a little -- but not very much -- some money was stolen from a great and wealthy nobleman. Someone told him about the Doctor Know-All who lived in such and such a village, and who must know where the money had gone. So the nobleman had his carriage hitched up, rode out to the village, and asked him if he were Doctor Know-All.

"Yes, that I am."

"Then you must come with me and recover my stolen money."

"Yes, but my wife Grete must come along too."

The nobleman agreed and had them take their places in his carriage. They rode away together.

They arrived at the nobleman's court just at mealtime, and the nobleman invited him to eat.

"Yes, but include my wife Grete," he replied, and the two of them sat down behind the table.

When the first servant brought out a platter of fine food the peasant nudged his wife and said, "Grete, that's the first one," meaning the meal's first course.

However, the servant thought that he meant, "That's the first thief," and because that is indeed what he was, he took fright, and outside he said to his comrades, "The doctor knows everything. It's going to go badly for us. He said that I'm the first one."

The second one did not want to go inside at all, but finally he had to, and when he entered, the peasant nudged his wife and said, "Grete, that's the second one."

This servant took fright as well, and went outside. It did not go any better for the third one. Once again the peasant said, "Grete, that's the third one."

The fourth one brought in a covered platter, and the nobleman told the doctor that he should demonstrate his art by guessing what it contained. It was crabs. The peasant looked at the platter, and seeing no way out of his dilemma, he said to himself, "Oh, poor Crab!"

Hearing this, the nobleman called out, "If he knows that then he must know who has the money as well!"

The servant grew very fearful and motioned to the doctor to go outside. There all four of them confessed to him that they had stolen the money. They offered to give it all to him and a handsome sum in addition, if he would not turn them in. Otherwise they would all hang. They showed him where the money was hidden. The doctor was satisfied with this, and he went back inside and sat down again at the table.

"My lord," he said, "Now I will look in my book to see where the money is hidden.

However, the fifth servant climbed into the stove in order to hear if the doctor knew anything else. The doctor leafed back and forth in his book looking for the picture of the rooster. Not finding it, he said, "I know that you are in there. Come on out."

The man in the stove thought that the doctor was talking to him, and terrified, he jumped out, saying, "The man knows everything!"

Then Doctor Know-All showed the nobleman where the money was, but he did not tell who had stolen it. Thus he received a large reward from each side and became a famous man.

---

• Source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Doktor Allwissend, Kinder- und Hausmärchen (1815), vol. 2, no. 12. This tale is numbered 98 in more recent editions.

• Translated by D. L. Ashliman. © 1999.

The Feet of the Dwarves

Wilhelm und Jacob Grimm, German Legends

In ancient days gone by men lived in the valley and round about in the cliffs and heights lived the dwarves. The dwarves were friendly and good to people, for whom they did hard work at night.

In those days, when the people of the land would go by in the early morning with wagon and tools, expressing amazement at the work done in secret, the dwarves hid themselves in the bushes and laughed lightheartedly out loud among themselves.

Sometimes the farmers would get angry when they would find their half-grown grain lying already cut in their fields; but when subsequent hail and thunderstorms would roll in, they saw very well that perhaps not even a single stalk could have escaped such violent weather intact. Then they inwardly thanked the foresight of the dwarves.

Finally, however, men forfeited the good nature and favor of the dwarves by their crimes, prompting the dwarves to flee away. Since then no eye has seen them again.

The cause was this: A shepherd had an impressive cherry tree planted up on the side of a mountain. As the summer fruit would ripen, it turned out that three nights in a row the tree was picked clean and all of the cherries placed onto benches and into storage areas where the shepherd was usually in the habit of keeping them.

The people in the village said: "No one else except the upright dwarves is doing this, coming out at night in their long coats with their concealed feet, tip-toeing here, quiet as birds, and industriously completing the day's work for men. Already many times they have been seen at work, but never should they be disturbed, but rather should be allowed to come and go as they please."

Becoming curious at such talk, the shepherd really would have liked to know why the dwarves so carefully concealed their feet and whether these were of a different form than human feet. So the next year when the summer came and the dwarves again secretly came, harvesting the cherries and carrying them to storage, the shepherd took a sack full of ashes and spread it round about the cherry tree.

The next morning at the break of dawn he hurried there to the place: The tree was truly picked bare, but on the ground below he saw footprints in the ashes, the tracks of many little goose feet.

Then the shepherd laughed and mocked the dwarves, for he had discovered their secret.

For the dwarves' part, however, thereafter they soon destroyed and laid waste their houses and fled deeper up into the mountains, holding a bitter grudge against humans and refusing them their help anymore.

That shepherd who betrayed the dwarves became chronically ill and mentally unstable from then on until his life's end.

---

• Source: Wilhelm und Jacob Grimm, Deutsche Sagen, 1. Teil, Richard Dorson, Issachar Ben Ami, Vilmos Voigt, Eds., (New York: Arno Press, 1977), p. 114 (no. 150).

How the Devil Played the Flute

Germany

Once the devil became bored in hell and wanted to take a pleasure trip to earth. Not wanting to be alone (for he does not like that at all; he loves company) he took his youngest son with him, a young black curious whippersnapper. They traveled out through a mountain cave, arriving in a forest. The little devil was delighted. He jumped about, climbed up the trees and hung by his tail, just like a monkey, doing all sorts of foolish things.

They came to a large oak tree where a man in a green jacket and with a green cap was lying asleep. A bag was hanging next to him from the tree, from which were protruding all kinds of game: hares, woodcocks, and wild ducks. Next to the bag there was a gun.

The little devil ran up and examined everything closely. Picking up the gun, he asked his father what it was. The old devil wrinkled his forehead and said, "That is a flute, my son. When people play on it, wild animals run up to them, and they only have to catch them."

"That I have to see," said the little devil. "You should play something for me on it."

"It takes two, my son. One to blow and one to finger."

"Then you can blow, and I will finger," said the whippersnapper.

So the old one had to put the barrel into his mouth, whether he wanted to or not, because he had spoiled the little fellow rotten. The old one blew, and the whippersnapper fingered and fingered, but not a single tone came out.

"You have to press down on the keys, you stupid boy," said the old one.

The little devil pushed against the hammer, then there came such a blow that the old one was struck to the ground, for the entire load of shot hit him in the throat. The young one ran away, terrified. The old one soon recovered and ran after his boy, for the sound of the gun had awakened the man.

"That was not a beautiful tone," said the whippersnapper.

"You pressed the wrong key," said the old one, "and the flute was dusty, so all the dust flew into my throat."

---

• Source: Johann Wilhelm Wolf, "Wie der Teufel auf der Flöte blies," Deutsche Hausmärchen (Göttingen: Dieterich'sche Buchhandlung, 1851), pp. 438-39.

• Translated by D. L. Ashliman. © 2009.

How the Devil Married Three Sisters

Italy

Once upon a time the devil was seized with a desire to marry. He therefore left hell, took the form of a handsome young man, and built a fine large house. When it was completed and furnished in the most fashionable style he introduced himself to a family where there were three pretty daughters, and paid his addresses to the eldest of them. The handsome man pleased the maiden, her parents were glad to see a daughter so well provided for, and it was not long before the wedding was celebrated.

When he had taken his bride home, he presented her with a very tastefully arranged bouquet, led her through all the rooms of the house, and finally to a closed door. "The whole house is at your disposal," said he, "only I must request one thing of you; that is, that you do not on any account open this door."

Of course the young wife promised faithfully; but equally, of course, she could scarcely wait for the moment to come when she might break her promise. When the devil had left the house the next morning, under pretence of going hunting, she ran hastily to the forbidden door, opened it, and saw a terrible abyss full of fire that shot up towards her, and singed the flowers on her bosom. When her husband came home and asked her whether she had kept her promise, she unhesitatingly said "Yes." But he saw by the flowers that she was telling a lie, and said, "Now I will not put your curiosity to the test any longer. Come with me. I will show you myself what is behind the door." Thereupon he led her to the door, opened it, gave her such a push that she fell down into hell, and shut the door again.

A few months after he wooed the next sister for his wife, and won her; but with her everything that had happened with the first wife was exactly repeated.

Finally he courted the third sister. She was a prudent maiden, and said to herself, "He has certainly murdered my two sisters; but then it is a splendid match for me, so I will try and see whether I cannot be more fortunate than they." And accordingly she consented. After the wedding the bridegroom gave her a beautiful bouquet, but forbade her, also, to open the door which he pointed out.

Not a whit less curious than her sisters, she, too, opened the forbidden door when the devil had gone hunting, but she had previously put her flowers in water. Then she saw behind the door the fatal abyss and her sisters therein. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "poor creature that I am; I thought I had married an ordinary man, and instead of that he is the devil! How can I get away from him?" She carefully pulled her two sisters out of hell and hid them. When the devil came home he immediately looked at the bouquet, which she again wore on her bosom, and when he found the flowers so fresh he asked no questions; but reassured as to his secret, he now, for the first time, really loved her.

After a few days she asked him if he would carry three chests for her to her parents' house, without putting them down or resting on the way. "But," she added, "you must keep your word, for I shall be watching you."

The devil promised to do exactly as she wished. So the next morning she put one of her sisters in a chest, and laid it on her husband's shoulders. The devil, who is very strong, but also very lazy and unaccustomed to work, soon got tired of carrying the heavy chest, and wanted to rest before he was out of the street on which he lived; but his wife called out to him, "Don't put it down; I see you!"

The devil went reluctantly on with the chest until he had turned the corner, and then said to himself, "She cannot see me here; I will rest a little."

But scarcely had he begun to put the chest down when the sister inside cried out, "Don't put it down; I see you still!" Cursing, he dragged the chest on into another street, and was going to lay it down on a doorstep, but he again heard the voice, "Don't lay it down, you rascal; I see you still!"

"What kind of eyes must my wife have," he thought, "to see around corners as well as straight ahead, and through walls as if they were made of glass!" and thus thinking he arrived, all in a perspiration and quite tired out, at the house of his mother-in-law, to whom he hastily delivered the chest, and then hurried home to strengthen himself with a good breakfast.

The same thing was repeated the next day with the second chest. On the third day she herself was to be taken home in the chest. She therefore prepared a figure which she dressed in her own clothes, and placed on the balcony, under the pretext of being able to watch him better; slipped quickly into the chest, and had the maid put it on the devil's back. "The deuce!" said he; "this chest is a great deal heavier than the others; and today, when she is sitting on the balcony, I shall have so much the less chance to rest." So by dint of the greatest exertions he carried it, without stopping, to his mother-in-law, and then hastened home to breakfast, scolding, and with his back almost broken.

But quite contrary to custom, his wife did not come out to meet him, and there was no breakfast ready. "Margerita, where are you?" he cried, but received no answer. As he was running through the corridors, he at length looked out of a window and saw the figure on the balcony. "Margerita, have you gone to sleep? Come down. I am as tired as a dog, and as hungry as a wolf." But there was no reply. "If you do not come down instantly I will go up and bring you down," he cried, angrily; but Margerita did not stir. Enraged, he hastened up to the balcony, and gave her such a box on the ear that her head flew off, and he saw that the head was nothing but a milliner's form, and the body, a bundle of rags. Raging, he rushed down and rummaged through the whole house, but in vain; he found only his wife's empty jewel box. "Ha!" he cried; "she has been stolen from me and her jewels, too!" and he immediately ran to inform her parents of the misfortune. But when he came near the house, to his great surprise he saw on the balcony above the door all three sisters, his wives, who were looking down on him with scornful laughter.

Three wives at once terrified the devil so much that he took his flight with all possible speed.

Since that time he has lost his taste for marrying.

---

• Source: Thomas Frederick Crane, Italian Popular Tales (London: Macmillan and Company 1885), no. 16, pp. 78-81.

Cupid and Psyche

Lucius Apuleius

A certain king and queen had three daughters. The charms of the two elder were more than common, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that the poverty of language is unable to express its due praise. The fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to Venus herself. In fact Venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. As she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers.

This homage to the exaltation of a mortal gave great offense to the real Venus. Shaking her ambrosial locks with indignation, she exclaimed, "Am I then to be eclipsed in my honors by a mortal girl? In vain then did that royal shepherd, whose judgment was approved by Jove himself, give me the palm of beauty over my illustrious rivals, Pallas and Juno. But she shall not so quietly usurp my honors. I will give her cause to repent of so unlawful a beauty."

Thereupon she calls her winged son Cupid, mischievous enough in his own nature, and rouses and provokes him yet more by her complaints. She points out Psyche to him and says, "My dear son, punish that contumacious beauty; give your mother a revenge as sweet as her injuries are great; infuse into the bosom of that haughty girl a passion for some low, mean, unworthy being, so that she may reap a mortification as great as her present exultation and triumph."

Cupid prepared to obey the commands of his mother. There are two fountains in Venus's garden, one of sweet waters, the other of bitter. Cupid filled two amber vases, one from each fountain, and suspending them from the top of his quiver, hastened to the chamber of Psyche, whom he found asleep. He shed a few drops from the bitter fountain over her lips, though the sight of her almost moved him to pity; then touched her side with the point of his arrow. At the touch she awoke, and opened eyes upon Cupid (himself invisible), which so startled him that in his confusion he wounded himself with his own arrow. Heedless of his wound, his whole thought now was to repair the mischief he had done, and he poured the balmy drops of joy over all her silken ringlets.

Psyche, henceforth frowned upon by Venus, derived no benefit from all her charms. True, all eyes were cast eagerly upon her, and every mouth spoke her praises; but neither king, royal youth, nor plebeian presented himself to demand her in marriage. Her two elder sisters of moderate charms had now long been married to two royal princes; but Psyche, in her lonely apartment, deplored her solitude, sick of that beauty which, while it procured abundance of flattery, had failed to awaken love.

Her parents, afraid that they had unwittingly incurred the anger of the gods, consulted the oracle of Apollo, and received this answer, "The virgin is destined for the bride of no mortal lover. Her future husband awaits her on the top of the mountain. He is a monster whom neither gods nor men can resist."

This dreadful decree of the oracle filled all the people with dismay, and her parents abandoned themselves to grief. But Psyche said, "Why, my dear parents, do you now lament me? You should rather have grieved when the people showered upon me undeserved honors, and with one voice called me a Venus. I now perceive that I am a victim to that name. I submit. Lead me to that rock to which my unhappy fate has destined me."

Accordingly, all things being prepared, the royal maid took her place in the procession, which more resembled a funeral than a nuptial pomp, and with her parents, amid the lamentations of the people, ascended the mountain, on the summit of which they left her alone, and with sorrowful hearts returned home.

While Psyche stood on the ridge of the mountain, panting with fear and with eyes full of tears, the gentle Zephyr raised her from the earth and bore her with an easy motion into a flowery dale. By degrees her mind became composed, and she laid herself down on the grassy bank to sleep.

When she awoke refreshed with sleep, she looked round and beheld near a pleasant grove of tall and stately trees. She entered it, and in the midst discovered a fountain, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast by, a magnificent palace whose august front impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some god. Drawn by admiration and wonder, she approached the building and ventured to enter.

Every object she met filled her with pleasure and amazement. Golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing beasts of the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. Proceeding onward, she perceived that besides the apartments of state there were others filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art.

While her eyes were thus occupied, a voice addressed her, though she saw no one, uttering these words, "Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands with our utmost care and diligence. Retire, therefore, to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see fit, repair to the bath. Supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there."

Psyche gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible aid from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectareous wines. Her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus.

She had not yet seen her destined husband. He came only in the hours of darkness and fled before the dawn of morning, but his accents were full of love, and inspired a like passion in her. She often begged him to stay and let her behold him, but he would not consent. On the contrary he charged her to make no attempt to see him, for it was his pleasure, for the best of reasons, to keep concealed.

"Why should you wish to behold me?" he said. "Have you any doubt of my love? Have you any wish ungratified? If you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I ask of you is to love me. I would rather you would love me as an equal than adore me as a god."

This reasoning somewhat quieted Psyche for a time, and while the novelty lasted she felt quite happy. But at length the thought of her parents, left in ignorance of her fate, and of her sisters, precluded from sharing with her the delights of her situation, preyed on her mind and made her begin to feel her palace as but a splendid prison. When her husband came one night, she told him her distress, and at last drew from him an unwilling consent that her sisters should be brought to see her.

So, calling Zephyr, she acquainted him with her husband's commands, and he, promptly obedient, soon brought them across the mountain down to their sister's valley. They embraced her and she returned their caresses.

"Come," said Psyche, "enter with me my house and refresh yourselves with whatever your sister has to offer."

Then taking their hands she led them into her golden palace, and committed them to the care of her numerous train of attendant voices, to refresh them in her baths and at her table, and to show them all her treasures. The view of these celestial delights caused envy to enter their bosoms, at seeing their young sister possessed of such state and splendor, so much exceeding their own.

They asked her numberless questions, among others what sort of a person her husband was. Psyche replied that he was a beautiful youth, who generally spent the daytime in hunting upon the mountains.

The sisters, not satisfied with this reply, soon made her confess that she had never seen him. Then they proceeded to fill her bosom with dark suspicions. "Call to mind," they said, "the Pythian oracle that declared you destined to marry a direful and tremendous monster. The inhabitants of this valley say that your husband is a terrible and monstrous serpent, who nourishes you for a while with dainties that he may by and by devour you. Take our advice. Provide yourself with a lamp and a sharp knife; put them in concealment that your husband may not discover them, and when he is sound asleep, slip out of bed, bring forth your lamp, and see for yourself whether what they say is true or not. If it is, hesitate not to cut off the monster's head, and thereby recover your liberty."

Psyche resisted these persuasions as well as she could, but they did not fail to have their effect on her mind, and when her sisters were gone, their words and her own curiosity were too strong for her to resist. So she prepared her lamp and a sharp knife, and hid them out of sight of her husband. When he had fallen into his first sleep, she silently rose and uncovering her lamp beheld not a hideous monster, but the most beautiful and charming of the gods, with his golden ringlets wandering over his snowy neck and crimson cheek, with two dewy wings on his shoulders, whiter than snow, and with shining feathers like the tender blossoms of spring.

As she leaned the lamp over to have a better view of his face, a drop of burning oil fell on the shoulder of the god. Startled, he opened his eyes and fixed them upon her. Then, without saying a word, he spread his white wings and flew out of the window. Psyche, in vain endeavoring to follow him, fell from the window to the ground.

Cupid, beholding her as she lay in the dust, stopped his flight for an instant and said, "Oh foolish Psyche, is it thus you repay my love? After I disobeyed my mother's commands and made you my wife, will you think me a monster and cut off my head? But go; return to your sisters, whose advice you seem to think preferable to mine. I inflict no other punishment on you than to leave you for ever. Love cannot dwell with suspicion." So saying, he fled away, leaving poor Psyche prostrate on the ground, filling the place with mournful lamentations.

When she had recovered some degree of composure she looked around her, but the palace and gardens had vanished, and she found herself in the open field not far from the city where her sisters dwelt. She repaired thither and told them the whole story of her misfortunes, at which, pretending to grieve, those spiteful creatures inwardly rejoiced.

"For now," said they, "he will perhaps choose one of us." With this idea, without saying a word of her intentions, each of them rose early the next morning and ascended the mountain, and having reached the top, called upon Zephyr to receive her and bear her to his lord; then leaping up, and not being sustained by Zephyr, fell down the precipice and was dashed to pieces.

Psyche meanwhile wandered day and night, without food or repose, in search of her husband. Casting her eyes on a lofty mountain having on its brow a magnificent temple, she sighed and said to herself, "Perhaps my love, my lord, inhabits there," and directed her steps thither.

She had no sooner entered than she saw heaps of corn, some in loose ears and some in sheaves, with mingled ears of barley. Scattered about, lay sickles and rakes, and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers' hands in the sultry hours of the day.

This unseemly confusion the pious Psyche put an end to, by separating and sorting everything to its proper place and kind, believing that she ought to neglect none of the gods, but endeavor by her piety to engage them all in her behalf. The holy Ceres, whose temple it was, finding her so religiously employed, thus spoke to her, "Oh Psyche, truly worthy of our pity, though I cannot shield you from the frowns of Venus, yet I can teach you how best to allay her displeasure. Go, then, and voluntarily surrender yourself to your lady and sovereign, and try by modesty and submission to win her forgiveness, and perhaps her favor will restore you the husband you have lost."

Psyche obeyed the commands of Ceres and took her way to the temple of Venus, endeavoring to fortify her mind and ruminating on what she should say and how best propitiate the angry goddess, feeling that the issue was doubtful and perhaps fatal.

Venus received her with angry countenance. "Most undutiful and faithless of servants," said she, "do you at last remember that you really have a mistress? Or have you rather come to see your sick husband, yet laid up of the wound given him by his loving wife? You are so ill favored and disagreeable that the only way you can merit your lover must be by dint of industry and diligence. I will make trial of your housewifery." Then she ordered Psyche to be led to the storehouse of her temple, where was laid up a great quantity of wheat, barley, millet, vetches, beans, and lentils prepared for food for her pigeons, and said, "Take and separate all these grains, putting all of the same kind in a parcel by themselves, and see that you get it done before evening." Then Venus departed and left her to her task.

But Psyche, in a perfect consternation at the enormous work, sat stupid and silent, without moving a finger to the inextricable heap.

While she sat despairing, Cupid stirred up the little ant, a native of the fields, to take compassion on her. The leader of the anthill, followed by whole hosts of his six-legged subjects, approached the heap, and with the utmost diligence taking grain by grain, they separated the pile, sorting each kind to its parcel; and when it was all done, they vanished out of sight in a moment.

Venus at the approach of twilight returned from the banquet of the gods, breathing odors and crowned with roses. Seeing the task done, she exclaimed, "This is no work of yours, wicked one, but his, whom to your own and his misfortune you have enticed." So saying, she threw her a piece of black bread for her supper and went away.

Next morning Venus ordered Psyche to be called and said to her, "Behold yonder grove which stretches along the margin of the water. There you will find sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their backs. Go, fetch me a sample of that precious wool gathered from every one of their fleeces."

Psyche obediently went to the riverside, prepared to do her best to execute the command. But the river god inspired the reeds with harmonious murmurs, which seemed to say, "Oh maiden, severely tried, tempt not the dangerous flood, nor venture among the formidable rams on the other side, for as long as they are under the influence of the rising sun, they burn with a cruel rage to destroy mortals with their sharp horns or rude teeth. But when the noontide sun has driven the cattle to the shade, and the serene spirit of the flood has lulled them to rest, you may then cross in safety, and you will find the woolly gold sticking to the bushes and the trunks of the trees."

Thus the compassionate river god gave Psyche instructions how to accomplish her task, and by observing his directions she soon returned to Venus with her arms full of the golden fleece; but she received not the approbation of her implacable mistress, who said, "I know very well it is by none of your own doings that you have succeeded in this task, and I am not satisfied yet that you have any capacity to make yourself useful. But I have another task for you. Here, take this box and go your way to the infernal shades, and give this box to Proserpine and say, 'My mistress Venus desires you to send her a little of your beauty, for in tending her sick son she has lost some of her own.' Be not too long on your errand, for I must paint myself with it to appear at the circle of the gods and goddesses this evening."

Psyche was now satisfied that her destruction was at hand, being obliged to go with her own feet directly down to Erebus. Wherefore, to make no delay of what was not to be avoided, she goes to the top of a high tower to precipitate herself headlong, thus to descend the shortest way to the shades below. But a voice from the tower said to her, "Why, poor unlucky girl, do you design to put an end to your days in so dreadful a manner? And what cowardice makes you sink under this last danger who have been so miraculously supported in all your former?" Then the voice told her how by a certain cave she might reach the realms of Pluto, and how to avoid all the dangers of the road, to pass by Cerberus, the three-headed dog, and prevail on Charon, the ferryman, to take her across the black river and bring her back again. But the voice added, "When Proserpine has given you the box filled with her beauty, of all things this is chiefly to be observed by you, that you never once open or look into the box nor allow your curiosity to pry into the treasure of the beauty of the goddesses."

Psyche, encouraged by this advice, obeyed it in all things, and taking heed to her ways traveled safely to the kingdom of Pluto. She was admitted to the palace of Proserpine, and without accepting the delicate seat or delicious banquet that was offered her, but contented with coarse bread for her food, she delivered her message from Venus. Presently the box was returned to her, shut and filled with the precious commodity. Then she returned the way she came, and glad was she to come out once more into the light of day.

But having got so far successfully through her dangerous task a longing desire seized her to examine the contents of the box. "What," said she, "shall I, the carrier of this divine beauty, not take the least bit to put on my cheeks to appear to more advantage in the eyes of my beloved husband!" So she carefully opened the box, but found nothing there of any beauty at all, but an infernal and truly Stygian sleep, which being thus set free from its prison, took possession of her, and she fell down in the midst of the road, a sleepy corpse without sense or motion.

But Cupid, being now recovered from his wound, and not able longer to bear the absence of his beloved Psyche, slipping through the smallest crack of the window of his chamber which happened to be left open, flew to the spot where Psyche lay, and gathering up the sleep from her body closed it again in the box, and waked Psyche with a light touch of one of his arrows. "Again," said he, "have you almost perished by the same curiosity. But now perform exactly the task imposed on you by my mother, and I will take care of the rest."

Then Cupid, as swift as lightning penetrating the heights of heaven, presented himself before Jupiter with his supplication. Jupiter lent a favoring ear, and pleaded the cause of the lovers so earnestly with Venus that he won her consent. On this he sent Mercury to bring Psyche up to the heavenly assembly, and when she arrived, handing her a cup of ambrosia, he said, "Drink this, Psyche, and be immortal; nor shall Cupid ever break away from the knot in which he is tied, but these nuptials shall be perpetual."

Thus Psyche became at last united to Cupid, and in due time they had a daughter born to them whose name was Pleasure.

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• Source: Thomas Bulfinch, The Age of Fable; or, Stories of Gods and Heroes (1855). Bulfinch's source is The Golden Ass (books 4-6) by the Roman writer Lucius Apuleius.

• Lucius Apuleius was born about 124 in northern Africa and was educated in Carthage and Athens. The account of Cupid and Psyche is presented in his novel The Golden Ass (also titled The Metamorphoses) as an "old wive's tale" told by an old woman to comfort a young woman who has been abducted by a band of robbers and is being held for ransome.

• In the main Bulfinch retells Apuleius' story with accuracy and sensitivity, but he does omit a few important details, for example:
  1. Psyche is pregnant with Cupid's child throughout her search for her lost husband, a fact emphasized by Apuleius.
  2. The cruel treatment meted out to Psyche by her mother-in-law Venus is substantially understated in Bulfinch's account.

• Aarne-Thompson type 425A.