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204 pages

English

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The Fairy Books, or "Coloured" Fairy Books is a collection of fairy tales divided into twelve books, each associated with a different colour. Collected together by Andrew Land they are sourced from a number of different countries and were translated by Lang's wife and other translators who also retold many of the tales. The collection has been incalculably important and, although he did not source the stories himself direct from the oral tradition he can make claim to the first English translation of many. First published in 1901, The Violet Fairy Bookis the 7th volume in this series.

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 mai 2009
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781775410119
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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THE VIOLET FAIRY BOOK
* * *
Edited by
ANDREW LANG

*

The Violet Fairy Book First published in 1901.
ISBN 978-1-775410-11-9
© 2009 THE FLOATING PRESS.
While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.
Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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Preface A Tale of the Tontlawald The Finest Liar in the World The Story of Three Wonderful Beggars Schippeitaro The Three Princes and Their Beasts The Goat's Ears of the Emperor Trojan The Nine Pea-Hens and the Golden Apples The Lute Player The Grateful Prince The Child Who Came from an Egg Stan Bolovan The Two Frogs The Story of a Gazelle How a Fish Swam in the Air and a Hare in the Water Two in a Sack The Envious Neighbour The Fairy of the Dawn The Enchanted Knife Jesper Who Herded the Hares The Underground Workers The History of Dwarf Long Nose The Nunda, Eater of People The Story of Hassebu The Maiden with the Wooden Helmet The Monkey and the Jelly-Fish The Headless Dwarfs The Young Man Who Would Have His Eyes Opened The Boys with the Golden Stars The Frog The Princess Who was Hidden Underground The Girl Who Pretended to Be a Boy The Story of Halfman The Prince Who Wanted to See the World Virgilius the Sorcerer Mogarzea and His Son Endnotes

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TO VIOLET MYERS IS DEDICATED THE VIOLET FAIRY BOOK
Preface
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The Editor takes this opportunity to repeat what he has oftensaid before, that he is not the author of the stories in theFairy Books; that he did not invent them 'out of his own head.'He is accustomed to being asked, by ladies, 'Have you writtenanything else except the Fairy Books?' He is then obliged toexplain that he has NOT written the Fairy Books, but, save these,has written almost everything else, except hymns, sermons, anddramatic works.
The stories in this Violet Fairy Book, as in all the others ofthe series, have been translated out of the popular traditionaltales in a number of different languages. These stories are asold as anything that men have invented. They are narrated bynaked savage women to naked savage children. They have beeninherited by our earliest civilised ancestors, who reallybelieved that beasts and trees and stones can talk if theychoose, and behave kindly or unkindly. The stories are full ofthe oldest ideas of ages when science did not exist, and magictook the place of science. Anybody who has the curiosity to readthe 'Legendary Australian Tales,' which Mrs. Langloh Parker hascollected from the lips of the Australian savages, will find thatthese tales are closely akin to our own. Who were the firstauthors of them nobody knows—probably the first men and women.Eve may have told these tales to amuse Cain and Abel. As peoplegrew more civilised and had kings and queens, princes andprincesses, these exalted persons generally were chosen as heroesand heroines. But originally the characters were just 'a man,'and 'a woman,' and 'a boy,' and 'a girl,' with crowds of beasts,birds, and fishes, all behaving like human beings. When thenobles and other people became rich and educated, they forgot theold stories, but the country people did not, and handed themdown, with changes at pleasure, from generation to generation.Then learned men collected and printed the country people'sstories, and these we have translated, to amuse children. Theirtastes remain like the tastes of their naked ancestors, thousandsof years ago, and they seem to like fairy tales better thanhistory, poetry, geography, or arithmetic, just as grown-uppeople like novels better than anything else.
This is the whole truth of the matter. I have said so before,and I say so again. But nothing will prevent children fromthinking that I invented the stories, or some ladies from beingof the same opinion. But who really invented the stories nobodyknows; it is all so long ago, long before reading and writingwere invented. The first of the stories actually written down,were written in Egyptian hieroglyphs, or on Babylonian cakes ofclay, three or four thousand years before our time.
Of the stories in this book, Miss Blackley translated 'Dwarf LongNose,' 'The Wonderful Beggars,' 'The Lute Player,' 'Two in aSack,' and 'The Fish that swam in the Air.' Mr. W. A. Craigietranslated from the Scandinavian, 'Jasper who herded the Hares.'Mrs. Lang did the rest.
Some of the most interesting are from the Roumanion, and threewere previously published in the late Dr. Steere's 'SwahiliTales.' By the permission of his representatives these threeAfrican stories have here been abridged and simplified forchildren.
A Tale of the Tontlawald
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Long, long ago there stood in the midst of a country covered withlakes a vast stretch of moorland called the Tontlawald, on whichno man ever dared set foot. From time to time a few bold spiritshad been drawn by curiosity to its borders, and on their returnhad reported that they had caught a glimpse of a ruined house ina grove of thick trees, and round about it were a crowd of beingsresembling men, swarming over the grass like bees. The men wereas dirty and ragged as gipsies, and there were besides a quantityof old women and half-naked children.
One night a peasant who was returning home from a feast wandereda little farther into the Tontlawald, and came back with the samestory. A countless number of women and children were gatheredround a huge fire, and some were seated on the ground, whileothers danced strange dances on the smooth grass. One old cronehad a broad iron ladle in her hand, with which every now and thenshe stirred the fire, but the moment she touched the glowingashes the children rushed away, shrieking like night owls, and itwas a long while before they ventured to steal back. And besidesall this there had once or twice been seen a little old man witha long beard creeping out of the forest, carrying a sack biggerthan himself. The women and children ran by his side, weepingand trying to drag the sack from off his back, but he shook themoff, and went on his way. There was also a tale of a magnificentblack cat as large as a foal, but men could not believe all thewonders told by the peasant, and it was difficult to make outwhat was true and what was false in his story. However, the factremained that strange things did happen there, and the King ofSweden, to whom this part of the country belonged, more than oncegave orders to cut down the haunted wood, but there was no onewith courage enough to obey his commands. At length one man,bolder than the rest, struck his axe into a tree, but his blowwas followed by a stream of blood and shrieks as of a humancreature in pain. The terrified woodcutter fled as fast as hislegs would carry him, and after that neither orders nor threatswould drive anybody to the enchanted moor.
A few miles from the Tontlawald was a large village, where dwelta peasant who had recently married a young wife. As notuncommonly happens in such cases, she turned the whole houseupside down, and the two quarrelled and fought all day long.
By his first wife the peasant had a daughter called Elsa, a goodquiet girl, who only wanted to live in peace, but this herstepmother would not allow. She beat and cuffed the poor childfrom morning till night, but as the stepmother had the whip-handof her husband there was no remedy.
For two years Elsa suffered all this ill-treatment, when one dayshe went out with the other village children to pluckstrawberries. Carelessly they wandered on, till at last theyreached the edge of the Tontlawald, where the finest strawberriesgrew, making the grass red with their colour. The children flungthemselves down on the ground, and, after eating as many as theywanted, began to pile up their baskets, when suddenly a cry arosefrom one of the older boys:
'Run, run as fast as you can! We are in the Tontlawald!'
Quicker than lightning they sprang to their feet, and rushedmadly away, all except Elsa, who had strayed farther than therest, and had found a bed of the finest strawberries right underthe trees. Like the others, she heard the boy's cry, but couldnot make up her mind to leave the strawberries.
'After all, what does it matter?' thought she. 'The dwellers inthe Tontlawald cannot be worse than my stepmother'; and lookingup she saw a little black dog with a silver bell on its neck comebarking towards her, followed by a maiden clad all in silk.
'Be quiet,' said she; then turning to Elsa she added: 'I am soglad you did not run away with the other children. Stay herewith me and be my friend, and we will play delightful gamestogether, and every day we will go and gather strawberries.Nobody will dare to beat you if I tell them not. Come, let us goto my mother'; and taking Elsa's hand she led her deeper into thewood, the little black dog jumping up beside them and barkingwith pleasure.
Oh! what wonders and splendours unfolded themselves beforeElsa's astonished eyes! She thought she really must be inHeaven. Fruit trees and bushes loaded with fruit stood beforethem, while birds gayer than the brightest butterfly sat in theirbranches and filled the air with their song. And the birds werenot shy, but let the girls take them in their hands, and stroketheir gold and silver feathers. In the centre of the garden wasthe dwelling-house, shining with glass and precious stones, andin the doorway sat a woman in rich garments, who turned to Elsa'scompanion and asked:
'What sort of a guest are you bringing to me?'
'I found her alone in the wood,' replied her daughter, 'andbrought her back with me for a companion. You will let herstay?'
The mother laughed, but said nothing, only she look