The History of Jack and the Beanstalk - by Benjamin Tabart

 The History of Jack and the Beanstalk

In the days of King Alfred, there lived a poor woman, whose cottage was situated in a remote country village, a great many miles from London. She had been a widow some years, and had an only child, named Jack, whom she indulged to a fault; the consequence of her blind partiality was that Jack did not pay the least attention to anything she said, but was indolent, careless, and extravagant. His follies were not owing to a bad disposition, but that his mother had never checked him. By degrees, she disposed of all she possessed. Scarcely anything remained but a cow.

The poor woman one day met Jack with tears in her eyes; her distress was great, and, for the first time in her life, she could not help reproaching him, saying, "Indeed, dear son, you have at last brought me to beggary and ruin; I have not money enough to purchase food for another day. Nothing remains for me but to sell my cow. I am very sorry to part with her; it grieves me sadly, but we must not starve."

For five minutes, Jack felt a degree of remorse, but it was soon over, and he importuned his mother to let him sell the cow at the next village. As he was going along, he met a butcher, who enquired why he was driving the cow from home. Jack replied that it was his intention to sell it. The butcher held some curious beans in his hat; they were of various colors, and attracted Jack's notice; this did not pass unnoticed by the butcher, who, knowing Jack's easy temper, thought now was the time to take advantage of it, and, determined not to let slip so good an opportunity, asked what was the price of the cow, offering at the same time all the beans in his hat for her. The silly boy could not express his pleasure at what he supposed so great an offer. The bargain was struck instantly, and the cow was exchanged for a few paltry beans. Jack made the best of his way home, calling aloud to his mother before he reached the house, thinking to surprise her.

When she saw the beans and heard Jack's account, her patience quite forsook her; she kicked the beans away in a passion, and they flew in all directions; some were scattered into the garden. The poor woman reflected on her great loss, and was quite in despair. Not having anything to eat, they both went supperless to bed.

Jack awoke very early in the morning, and, seeing something uncommon from the window of his bedchamber. ran downstairs into the garden, where he soon discovered that some of the beans had taken root and sprung up surprisingly; the stalks were of an immense thickness, and had so entwined, that they formed a ladder nearly like a chain in appearance.

Looking upwards, he could not discern the top; it appeared to be lost in the clouds. He tried it, and found it firm and not to be shaken. He quickly formed the resolution of endeavoring to climb up to the top, in order to seek his fortune, and ran to communicate his intention to his mother, not doubting that she would be equally pleased with him. She declared that he should not go, said it would break her heart, entreated, threatened, but all in vain. Jack set out, and, after climbing for some hours, reached the top of the beanstalk, fatigued and quite exhausted. Looking around, he found himself in a strange country. It appeared to be a desert, quite barren; not a tree shrub, house, or living creature to be seen. Here and there were scattered fragments of unhewn stone, and, at equal distances, small heaps of earth were loosely thrown together. Jack seated himself pensively upon a block of stone, thought of his mother, and reflected with sorrow on his disobedience in climbing the beanstalk against her inclination. He concluded that he must now die of hunger.

However, he walked on, hoping to see a house where he might beg something to eat and drink. Presently, an infirm looking woman appeared at a distance. As she approached, he saw that she was old, her skin much wrinkled, and her tattered garments proved poverty. She accosted Jack, enquiring how he came there, and he related the circumstance of the beanstalk. She then asked if he recollected his father, and he replied that he did not, and added that there must be some mystery relating to him, for he had frequently asked his mother who his father was, but she always burst into tears and appeared violently agitated, nor did she recover herself for some days after. One thing, however, he could not avoid observing upon these occasions, which was that she always carefully avoided answering him, and even seemed afraid of speaking, as if there were some secret connected with his father's history which she must not disclose.

The old woman replied, "I will reveal the whole story, which your mother must not. But, before I begin, I require a solemn promise on your part to do what I command. I am a fairy, and if you do not perform exactly what I desire, your mother and yourself shall both be destroyed."

Jack was frightened at the old woman's menaces, and promised to fulfil her injunctions exactly, and the fairy thus addressed him: "Your father was a rich man, his disposition remarkably benevolent; he was good to the poor, and constantly relieving them. He made it a rule never to let a day pass without doing a kindness to some person. On one particular day in the week he kept an open house, and invited only those who were reduced and had lived well. He always presided himself, and did all in his power to render his guests comfortable; the rich and the great were not invited. The servants were all happy, and greatly attached to their master and mistress. Your father, though only a private gentleman, was as rich as a prince, and he deserved all he possessed, for he only lived to do good. Such a man was soon known and talked of. A Giant lived a great many miles off; this man was altogether as wicked as your father was good. He was in his heart envious, covetous, and cruel; but he had the art of concealing those vices. He was poor, and wished to enrich himself at any rate.

"Hearing your father spoken of, he was determined to become acquainted with him, hoping to ingratiate himself into your father's favor. He removed quickly into your neighborhood, caused it to be reported that he was a gentleman who had lost all he possessed by an earthquake, and found it difficult to escape with his life; his wife was with him. Your father gave credit to this story and pitied him; he gave him handsome apartments in his own house, and caused himself and his wife to be treated like visitors of consequence, little imagining that the giant was meditating a horrid return for all of his favors. things went on in this way for some time, the Giant becoming daily more impatient to put his plan into execution. At last a favorable opportunity presented itself. Your father's house was at some distance from the seashore, but with a good glass the coast could be seen distinctly. The Giant was one day using the telescope; the wind was very high, and he saw a fleet of ships in distress off the rocks. He hastened to your father, mentioned the circumstance, and eagerly requested he would send all the servants he could spare to relieve the sufferers. Every one was instantly dispatched, except the porter and your nurse. The Giant then joined your father in the study, and appeared to be delighted; he really was so. Your father recommended a favorite book, and was handing it down; the Giant took the opportunity and stabbed him, and he instantly fell dead. The Giant left the body, found the porter and nurse, and instantly dispatched them. You were then only three months old; your mother had you in her arms in a remote part of the house, and was ignorant of what was going on. She went into the study, but how she was shocked, on discovering you father a corpse and weltering in his blood! She was stupefied with horror and grief, and was motionless. The Giant, who was seeking her, found her in that state, and hastened to serve her and you as he had done to her husband, but she fell at his feet, and, in a pathetic manner, besought him to spare your life and hers.

"The cruel Giant, for a short time, was struck with remorse, and spared your life and hers; but first he made her swear solemnly that she would never inform you of who your father was or answer any questions concerning him, assuring her that if she did he would certainly discover her and put both of you to death in the most cruel manner. Your mother took you in her arms and fled as quick as possible. She was scarcely gone when the Giant repented that he had suffered her to escape; he would have pursued her instantly, but he had his own safety to provide for, as it was necessary that he should be gone before the servants returned. Having gained your father's confidence, he knew where to find all his treasure, and he soon loaded himself and his wife and set the house on fire in several places. When the servants returned, the house was burnt down to the ground.

"Your poor mother, forlorn, abandoned, and forsaken, wandered with you a great many miles from this scene of desolation; fear added to her haste, and she settled in the cottage where you were brought up. It was entirely owing to her fear of the Giant that she has never mentioned your father to you.

"I became your father's guardian at his birth, but fairies have laws to which they are subject as well as mortals. A short time before the Giant went to your father's, I transgressed, and my punishment was a total suspension of power for a limited time; an unfortunate circumstance, as it prevented my succoring your father. The day on which you met the butcher, as you went to sell your mother's cow, my power was restored. I was I who prompted you to take the beans in exchange for your cow. By my power, the beanstalk grew to so great a height and formed a ladder. I need not add that I inspired you with a strong desire to ascend the ladder.

"The Giant lives in this country, and you are the person appointed to punish him for all his wickedness. You will have dangers and difficulties to encounter. But you must persevere in avenging the death of your father, or you will not prosper in any of your undertakings, but always be miserable. As to the Giant's possessions, you may seize upon all with impunity, for everything he has is yours, though now you are unjustly deprived of it. One thing I strictly charge you: Never let your mother be made acquainted with your journeys beforehand; the thought of it would kill her, for she has not yet thoroughly overcome the fright she encountered at your father's death."

Jack could not bear to deceive his mother, and besides, he knew it would make her more uneasy to set off clandestinely than to inform her of his journey. The fairy at first strongly opposed this, but Jack entreated her so earnestly that she reluctantly consented. He promised to make it appear as a frolic of his own, and not that he acted by her commands.

So the fairy replied, "Go along the direct road, and you will soon see the house where your cruel enemy lives. Remember the severe punishment that awaits you if you disobey my commands." So saying, the fairy disappeared, leaving Jack to pursue his journey.

He walked until after sunset, and soon, to his great joy, espied a large mansion. A plain-looking woman was standing at the door, and he accosted her, begging that she would give him a morsel of bread and a night's lodging. She expressed great surprise on seeing him, and said it was quite uncommon to see a human being near their house, for it was well-known that her husband was a large and powerful Giant, and that he would never eat anything but human flesh if he could possibly get it, and that he did not think anything of walking fifty miles to procure it, usually being out all day for that purpose.

This account terrified Jack, but still he hoped to elude the Giant, and therefore again entreated the woman to take him in for one night only, and to hide him in the oven. The good woman at last suffered herself to be persuaded, for she was of a compassionate disposition. She gave him plenty to eat and drink, and took him into the house. First they entered a large hall, magnificently furnished, then they passed through several spacious rooms, all in the same style of grandeur, though they appeared to be forsaken and desolate.

A long gallery was next; it was very dark, just light enough to show that instead of a wall on one side there was a grating of iron which parted off a dismal dungeon, from whence issued the groans of those poor victims whom the Giant reserved in confinement for his own voracious appetite. Poor Jack was half-dead with fear, and would have given the world to be with his mother again. But that he feared could never be, for he gave himself up for lost, and now mistrusted the good woman. At the farther end of the gallery was a winding staircase which led them into a spacious kitchen; a very good fire was burning in the grate, and Jack, not seeing anything to make him uncomfortable, soon forgot his fears, and was just beginning to enjoy himself, when he was aroused by a loud knocking at the street-door. The Giant's wife ran to secure him in the oven, and then made what haste she could to let her husband in, and Jack heard him accost her in a voice like thunder, saying, "Wife, I smell fresh meat!"

"Oh, my dear!" she replied, "it is nothing but the people in the dungeon!"

The Giant appeared to believe her, and walked downstairs into the very kitchen where poor Jack was, who shook, trembled, and was more terrified than he had yet been.

At last, the monster seated himself quietly by the fireside whilst his wife prepared supper. By degrees, Jack recovered himself sufficiently to look at the Giant through a crevice; he was astonished to see how much he devoured, and thought he would never have done eating and drinking. When supper was ended, the Giant desired his wife to bring him his hen. A very beautiful hen was brought, and placed upon the table before him. Jack's curiosity was very great to see what would happen; he observed that, every time the Giant said "Lay," the hen laid an egg of solid gold. The Giant amused himself a long time with the hen. Meanwhile, his wife went to bed. At length, the Giant fell fast asleep by the fireside, and snored like the roaring of a cannon. At daybreak, Jack, finding the Giant not likely to be soon roused, crept softly out of his hiding place, seized the hen, and ran off with her.

He met with some difficulty in finding his way out of the house, but at last he reached the road in safety. Without fear of pursuit, he easily found the way to the beanstalk and descended it better and quicker than he expected. His mother was overjoyed to see him; he found her crying bitterly and lamenting his fate, for she concluded he had come to some shocking end through his rashness.

Jack was impatient to show his hen and inform his mother how valuable it was. "And now, mother," said Jack, "I have brought home that which will quickly make you rich without any trouble. I hope I have made you some amend for the affliction I have caused you through my idleness, extravagance, and folly."

The hen produced them as many eggs as they desired. They sold them, and in a little time became very rich. For some months, Jack and his mother lived happily together. But he, being very desirous of traveling (recollecting the fairy's commands, and fearing that if he delayed she would put her threats into execution), longed to climb the beanstalk and pay the giant another visit, in order to carry off some more of his treasures; for during the time that Jack was in the Giant's mansion, whilst he lay concealed in the oven, he learned from the conversation which took place between the Giant and his wife that he possessed some great curiosities. Jack thought on his journey again and again, but still he could not determine how to break it to his mother, being well assured that she would be quite resolved to prevent his going. One day, he told her boldly that he must take a journey up the beanstalk. She begged he would not think of it, and tried all in her power to dissuade him, saying that the Giant could not fail of knowing him, and would desire no better than to get him into his power, that he might put him to a cruel death, in order to be revenged for the loss of his hen.

Jack, finding that all his arguments were useless, pretended to give up the point, though he resolved to go at all events. He had a dress prepared which would disguise him, and, with something to discolor his skin, he thought it impossible for anyone to recollect him. In a few mornings after discoursing with his mother, he rose very early, put on his disguise, changed his complexion, and, unperceived by anyone, climbed the beanstalk. He was greatly fatigued when he reached the top, and very hungry. Having rested some time on one of the stones, he pursued his journey to the Giant's mansion. He reached it late in the evening. The woman was standing at the door as usual; Jack accosted her, at the same time telling her a pitiful tale, and requested she would give him some victuals and drink, and a night's lodging. She told him what he knew full well, concerning her husband, and also that she one night admitted a poor, hungry, distressed boy, who was half dead with travelling, and that he had stolen one of the Giant's treasures, and that, ever since that day, her husband was worse than before, and used her very cruelly, continually upbraiding her with being the cause of his loss. Jack was at no loss to discover that he was attending to the account of a story in which he was the principal actor; he did his best to persuade the good woman to admit him, but he found it a very hard task.

At last she consented, and, as she led the way, Jack observed that everything was just as he had found it before. She took him into the kitchen, and hid him in an old lumber-closet. The Giant returned at the usual time, and walked in so heavily that the house was shaken to the foundation. He seated himself by a good fire, saying, "I smell fresh meat." The wife replied it was the crows, who had brought a piece of carrion and laid it at the top of the house upon the leads.

Whilst supper was preparing, the Giant was very ill-tempered and impatient, frequently lifting up his hand to strike his wife for not being quick enough (she, however, was always so fortunate as to elude his blow). He was also continually upbraiding her with the loss of his hen.

The Giant, at last, having finished his voracious supper and eaten till he was quite satisfied, said to his wife, "I must have something to amuse me. Either my bags of money or my harp." After a great deal of ill humor, and having teased his wife some time, he commanded her to bring his bags of gold and silver. Jack, as before, peeped out of his hiding place, and presently the woman brought two bags into the room. They were of an immense size; one was filled with new guineas, the other with new shillings. They were both placed before the Giant, and he reprimanded he wife most severely for staying so long. The poor woman replied, trembling with fear, that they were so heavy she could scarcely lift them, and concluded at last that she could never bring them downstairs, adding that she had nearly fainted owing to their weight. This so exasperated the Giant, that he raised his hand to strike her. She, however, escaped and went to bed, leaving him to count over his treasures by way of amusement.

First, the bag containing the silver was emptied and the contents placed upon the table. Jack viewed the glittering heaps with delight, and most heartily wished the contents in his own possession. The Giant, little thinking himself so narrowly watched, reckoned the silver over and over again, then put it all carefully into the bag, which he made very secure. The other bag was opened next, and the guineas placed upon the table. If Jack was pleased at the sight of the silver, how much more delighted he felt when he saw such a heap of gold. He had the boldness even to think of gaining it, but soon recollected himself, as he feared the Giant would feign sleep in order to better entrap anyone who might be concealed. The gold was put up as the silver had been before, and, if possible, more securely. The Giant snored aloud; Jack could compare his noise to nothing but the roaring of the sea in a high wind when the tide is coming in. At last, Jack, concluding him to be asleep, and therefore secure, stole out of his hiding place and approached the Giant, in order to carry off the two bags of money. But, just as he laid his hand upon one of the bags, a little dog, whom he had not perceived before, darted out from under the Giant's chair and barked at Jack most furiously. Jack gave himself up for lost; fear rivetted him to the spot. Instead of running he stood still, expecting his enemy to awake every minute. Contrary, however, to expectation, the Giant continued in sound sleep, and the dog grew weary of barking. Jack, looking round, saw a large piece of meat, which he threw to the dog, who took it into the lumber-closet which Jack had just left.

He found himself thus delivered from a noisy and troublesome enemy, and, as the Giant did not awake, Jack seized both of the bags and carried them away. He reached the street door in safety, and found it quite daylight. On his way to the top of the beanstalk, the only difficulty he had to encounter arose from the weight of the bags, and really they were so heavy he could hardly carry them. Jack was overjoyed when he found himself near the beanstalk; he soon reached the bottom, and immediately ran to seek his mother. To his great surprise. the cottage was deserted. He went from one room to another, without being able to find anyone. He then went out into the street, hoping to see some of the neighbours, who could inform him where he might find his mother. An old woman said she was at a neighbour's, ill of a fever, and directed him to the house where she was. He was shocked on finding her apparently dying, and could scarcely bear his own reflections on knowing himself to be the cause. On being told of his return, by degrees she revived, and began to recover gradually. Jack presented her with his two valuable bags. They lived happily and comfortably, and the cottage was repaired and well-furnished. For three years Jack heard no more of the beanstalk, but he could not forget it, though he feared making his mother unhappy (she would not mention the beanstalk, lest it remind him of taking another journey). Notwithstanding the comforts Jack enjoyed, his mind dwelt upon the beanstalk, for the fairy's menaces in case of disobedience on his part were ever present to his imagination. He could not think of anything else, and it was in vain endevouring to amuse himself. His mother found that something preyed upon his mind, and endevoured to discover the cause, but Jack knew too well what the consequence would be to disclose the cause of his melancholy to her. He did his utmost therefore to conquer the great desire he felt for another journey up the beanstalk. However, finding the inclination grew too powerful for him, he began to make secret preparations for his journey, and, on the longest day, arose as soon as it was light, ascended the beanstalk, and reached the top with some trouble. He found the road, journey, & much as it had been the two former times. He arrived at the Giant's mansion in the evening, and found his wife standing at the door. Jack had disguised himself so completely that she did not appear to have the least recollection of him. However, when he pleaded hunger and poverty in order to gain admittance, he found it very difficult indeed to persuade her. At last he prevailed, and was concealed in the copper. When the Giant returned in the evening, he said, "I smell fresh meat," but Jack felt quite composed, as he had said so before, and was soon satisfied. However, the Giant started up suddenly, and, notwithstanding all his wife could say, he searched all around the room. Whilst this was going on, Jack was terrified exceedingly, and ready to die with fear, wishing himself at home a thousand times, and when the Giant approached the oven, and put his hand upon the lid, Jack thought his death warrant was signed. But the Giant ended his search there, without moving the lid of the copper, and seated himself quietly. This fright nearly overcame poor Jack; he was so afraid of moving or even breathing, least he should be heard. The Giant at last ate a great supper, and when he had finished he commanded his wife to fetch down his harp. Jack peeped under the copper-lid, and soon saw the most beautiful harp that could be imagined. It was placed by the Giant, he said "play," and it instantly played of its own accord without being touched. The music was very fine, Jack was delighted, and felt more anxious to get the harp into his possession than either of the former treasures. The Giant's soul was not attuned to harmony, and the music lulled him into a sound sleep. Now therefore was the time to carry off the harp, and the Giant appeared in a more profound sleep than usual. Jack quickly determined, got out of the oven, and took the harp. The harp was a fairy, and it called out loudly "master! master! master!" The Giant awoke, stood up, and tried to pursue Jack, but he had drank so much that he could not stand. Poor Jack ran as fast as he could, and in a little time the Giant was sufficiently recovered to walk slowly, or rather to reel, after him. Had he bee sober her might have overtaken Jack instantly, but, as he then was, Jack contrived to be first at the top of the beanstalk, the Giant calling to him all the way he went, and sometimes he was very near him. The moment Jack set his foot on the beanstalk, he called for a hatchet. One was brought directly, and he soon reached the ground. Just at that instant the Giant was beginning to come down, but Jack with his hatchet cut the beanstalk close to the root, which made the Giant fall in the garden; the fall killed him. Jack's mother was delighted when she saw the beanstalk destroyed, and at that instant the fairy appeared. She first addressed Jack's mother, and explained every circumstance relating to the journeys up the beanstalk. Jack was now fully cleared in the opinion of his mother. The Fairy then charged Jack to be dutiful and affectionate to his mother, and to follow his father's good example, which was the only way to be respectable and happy. She then took her leave of them, and disappeared.

Jack heartily begged his mother's pardon for all the sorrow and affliction he had caused her, promising faithfully to be very dutiful and obedient to her in the future. He proved as good as his word, and was a pattern of affectionate behaviour and attention to his parents. His mother and he lived together a great many years, and continued to be always very happy.

My Notes

• Joseph Jacobs later included a version of this story in English Fairy Tales. His retelling is widely considered to be closer to the oral sources of the tale.
• Andrew Lang also included a retelling of this story in The Red Fairy Book.

Jack and the Beanstalk: An English Folk Tale - Retold by Joseph Jacobs

 

JACK AND THE BEANSTALK

There was once upon a time a poor widow who had an only son named Jack, and a cow named Milky-white. And all they had to live on was the milk the cow gave every morning which they carried to the market and sold. But one morning Milky-white gave no milk and they didn't know what to do.

“What shall we do, what shall we do?” said the widow, wringing her hands.

“Cheer up, mother, I'll go and get work somewhere,” said Jack.

“We've tried that before, and nobody would take you,” said his mother; “we must sell Milky-white and with the money do something, start shop, or something.”

“All right, mother,” says Jack; “it's market-day today, and I'll soon sell Milky-white, and then we'll see what we can do.”

So he took the cow's halter in his hand, and off he starts. He hadn't gone far when he met a funny-looking old man who said to him: “Good morning, Jack.”

“Good morning to you,” said Jack, and wondered how he knew his name.

“Well, Jack, and where are you off to?” said the man.

“I'm going to market to sell our cow here.”

“Oh, you look the proper sort of chap to sell cows,” said the man; “I wonder if you know how many beans make five.”

“Two in each hand and one in your mouth,” says Jack, as sharp as a needle.

“Right you are,” said the man, “and here they are the very beans themselves,” he went on pulling out of his pocket a number of strange-looking beans. “As you are so sharp,” says he, “I don't mind doing a swop with you—your cow for these beans.”

“Walker!” says Jack; “wouldn't you like it?”

“Ah! you don't know what these beans are,” said the man; “if you plant them over-night, by morning they grow right up to the sky.”

“Really?” says Jack; “you don't say so.”

“Yes, that is so, and if it doesn't turn out to be true you can have your cow back.”

“Right,” says Jack, and hands him over Milky-white's halter and pockets the beans.

Back goes Jack home, and as he hadn't gone very far it wasn't dusk by the time he got to his door.

“What back, Jack?” said his mother; “I see you haven't got Milky-white, so you've sold her. How much did you get for her?”

“You'll never guess, mother,” says Jack.

“No, you don't say so. Good boy! Five pounds, ten, fifteen, no, it can't be twenty.”

“I told you you couldn't guess, what do you say to these beans; they're magical, plant them over-night and——”

“What!” says Jack's mother, “have you been such a fool, such a dolt, such an idiot, as to give away my Milky-white, the best milker in the parish, and prime beef to boot, for a set of paltry beans. Take that! Take that! Take that! And as for your precious beans here they go out of the window. And now off with you to bed. Not a sup shall you drink, and not a bit shall you swallow this very night.”

So Jack went upstairs to his little room in the attic, and sad and sorry he was, to be sure, as much for his mother's sake, as for the loss of his supper.

At last he dropped off to sleep.

When he woke up, the room looked so funny. The sun was shining into part of it, and yet all the rest was quite dark and shady. So Jack jumped up and dressed himself and went to the window. And what do you think he saw? why, the beans his mother had thrown out of the window into the garden, had sprung up into a big beanstalk which went up and up and up till it reached the sky. So the man spoke truth after all.

The beanstalk grew up quite close past Jack's window, so all he had to do was to open it and give a jump on to the beanstalk which was made like a big plaited ladder. So Jack climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till at last he reached the sky. And when he got there he found a long broad road going as straight as a dart. So he walked along and he walked along and he walked along till he came to a great big tall house, and on the doorstep there was a great big tall woman.

“Good morning, mum,” says Jack, quite polite-like. “Could you be so kind as to give me some breakfast.” For he hadn't had anything to eat, you know, the night before and was as hungry as a hunter.

“It's breakfast you want, is it?” says the great big tall woman, “it's breakfast you'll be if you don't move off from here. My man is an ogre and there's nothing he likes better than boys broiled on toast. You'd better be moving on or he'll soon be coming.”

“Oh! please mum, do give me something to eat, mum. I've had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, really and truly, mum,” says Jack. “I may as well be broiled, as die of hunger.”

Well, the ogre's wife wasn't such a bad sort, after all. So she took Jack into the kitchen, and gave him a junk of bread and cheese and a jug of milk. But Jack hadn't half finished these when thump! thump! thump! the whole house began to tremble with the noise of someone coming.

“Goodness gracious me! It's my old man,” said the ogre's wife, “what on earth shall I do? Here, come quick and jump in here.” And she bundled Jack into the oven just as the ogre came in.

He was a big one, to be sure. At his belt he had three calves strung up by the heels, and he unhooked them and threw them down on the table and said: “Here, wife, broil me a couple of these for breakfast. Ah what's this I smell?

  Fee-fi-fo-fum,
  I smell the blood of an Englishman,
  Be he alive, or be he dead
  I'll have his bones to grind my bread.”
 

“Nonsense, dear,” said his wife, “you're dreaming. Or perhaps you smell the scraps of that little boy you liked so much for yesterday's dinner. Here, go you and have a wash and tidy up, and by the time you come back your breakfast'll be ready for you.”

So the ogre went off, and Jack was just going to jump out of the oven and run off when the woman told him not. “Wait till he's asleep,” says she; “he always has a snooze after breakfast.”

Well, the ogre had his breakfast, and after that he goes to a big chest and takes out of it a couple of bags of gold and sits down counting them till at last his head began to nod and he began to snore till the whole house shook again.

Then Jack crept out on tiptoe from his oven, and as he was passing the ogre he took one of the bags of gold under his arm, and off he pelters till he came to the beanstalk, and then he threw down the bag of gold which of course fell in to his mother's garden, and then he climbed down and climbed down till at last he got home and told his mother and showed her the gold and said: “Well, mother, wasn't I right about the beans. They are really magical, you see.”

So they lived on the bag of gold for some time, but at last they came to the end of that so Jack made up his mind to try his luck once more up at the top of the beanstalk. So one fine morning he got up early, and got on to the beanstalk, and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till at last he got on the road again and came to the great big tall house he had been to before. There, sure enough, was the great big tall woman a-standing on the door-step.

“Good morning, mum,” says Jack, as bold as brass, “could you be so good as to give me something to eat?”

“Go away, my boy,” said the big, tall woman, “or else my man will eat you up for breakfast. But aren't you the youngster who came here once before? Do you know, that very day, my man missed one of his bags of gold.”

“That's strange, mum,” says Jack, “I dare say I could tell you something about that but I'm so hungry I can't speak till I've had something to eat.”

Well the big tall woman was that curious that she took him in and gave him something to eat. But he had scarcely begun munching it as slowly as he could when thump! thump! thump! they heard the giant's footstep, and his wife hid Jack away in the oven.

All happened as it did before. In came the ogre as he did before, said: “Fee-fi-fo-fum,” and had his breakfast off three broiled oxen. Then he said: “Wife, bring me the hen that lays the golden eggs.” So she brought it, and the ogre said: “Lay,” and it laid an egg all of gold. And then the ogre began to nod his head, and to snore till the house shook.

Then Jack crept out of the oven on tiptoe and caught hold of the golden hen, and was off before you could say “Jack Robinson.” But this time the hen gave a cackle which woke the ogre, and just as Jack got out of the house he heard him calling: “Wife, wife, what have you done with my golden hen?”

And the wife said: “Why, my dear?”

But that was all Jack heard, for he rushed off to the beanstalk and climbed down like a house on fire. And when he got home he showed his mother the wonderful hen and said “Lay,” to it; and it laid a golden egg every time he said “Lay.”

Well, Jack was not content, and it wasn't very long before he determined to have another try at his luck up there at the top of the beanstalk. So one fine morning, he got up early, and went on to the beanstalk, and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed and he climbed till he got to the top. But this time he knew better than to go straight to the ogre's house. And when he got near it he waited behind a bush till he saw the ogre's wife come out with a pail to get some water, and then he crept into the house and got into the copper. He hadn't been there long when he heard thump! thump! thump! as before, and in come the ogre and his wife.

“Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman,” cried out the ogre; “I smell him, wife, I smell him.”

“Do you, my dearie?” says the ogre's wife. “Then if it's that little rogue that stole your gold and the hen that laid the golden eggs he's sure to have got into the oven.” And they both rushed to the oven. But Jack wasn't there, luckily, and the ogre's wife said: “There you are again with your fee-fi-fo-fum. Why of course it's the laddie you caught last night that I've broiled for your breakfast. How forgetful I am, and how careless you are not to tell the difference between a live un and a dead un.”

So the ogre sat down to the breakfast and ate it, but every now and then he would mutter: “Well, I could have sworn——” and he'd get up and search the larder and the cupboards, and everything, only luckily he didn't think of the copper.

After breakfast was over, the ogre called out: “Wife, wife, bring me my golden harp.” So she brought it and put it on the table before him. Then he said: “Sing!” and the golden harp sang most beautifully. And it went on singing till the ogre fell asleep, and commenced to snore like thunder.

Then Jack lifted up the copper-lid very quietly and got down like a mouse and crept on hands and knees till he got to the table when he got up and caught hold of the golden harp and dashed with it towards the door. But the harp called out quite loud: “Master! Master!” and the ogre woke up just in time to see Jack running off with his harp.

Jack ran as fast as he could, and the ogre came rushing after, and would soon have caught him only Jack had a start and dodged him a bit and knew where he was going. When he got to the beanstalk the ogre was not more than twenty yards away when suddenly he saw Jack disappear like, and when he got up to the end of the road he saw Jack underneath climbing down for dear life. Well, the ogre didn't like trusting himself to such a ladder, and he stood and waited, so Jack got another start. But just then the harp cried out: “Master! master!” and the ogre swung himself down on to the beanstalk which shook with his weight. Down climbs Jack, and after him climbed the ogre. By this time Jack had climbed down and climbed down and climbed down till he was very nearly home. So he called out: “Mother! mother! bring me an axe, bring me an axe.” And his mother came rushing out with the axe in her hand, but when she came to the beanstalk she stood stock still with fright for there she saw the ogre just coming down below the clouds.

But Jack jumped down and got hold of the axe and gave a chop at the beanstalk which cut it half in two. The ogre felt the beanstalk shake and quiver so he stopped to see what was the matter. Then Jack gave another chop with the axe, and the beanstalk was cut in two and began to topple over. Then the ogre fell down and broke his crown, and the beanstalk came toppling after.

Then Jack showed his mother his golden harp, and what with showing that and selling the golden eggs, Jack and his mother became very rich, and he married a great princess, and they lived happy ever after.

My Notes

• Text taken from "English Fairy Tales" by Joseph Jacobs.
• Jacobs' notes: I tell this as it was told me in Australia, somewhere about the year 1860. There is a chap-book version which is very poor; it is given by Mr. E. S. Hartland, English Folk and Fairy Tales (Camelot Series), p. 35, seq. In this, when Jack arrives at the top of the Beanstalk, he is met by a fairy, who gravely informs him that the ogre had stolen all his possessions from Jack's father. The object of this was to prevent the tale becoming an encouragement to theft! I have had greater confidence in my young friends, and have deleted the fairy who did not exist in the tale as told to me. For the Beanstalk elsewhere, see Ralston, Russian Folk Tales, 293-8. Cosquin has some remarks on magical ascents (i. 14).
• The chap-book version to which Jacobs refers is "The History of Jack and the Beanstalk" by Benjamin Tabart, the first known publication of this story in print.

The Three Little Pigs - From The Green Fairy Book by Andrew Lang

THE THREE LITTLE PIGS

There was once upon a time a pig who lived with her three children on a large, comfortable, old-fashioned farmyard. The eldest of the little pigs was called Browny, the second Whitey, and the youngest and best looking Blacky. Now Browny was a very dirty little pig, and I am sorry to say spent most of his time rolling and wallowing about in the mud. He was never so happy as on a wet day, when the mud in the farmyard got soft, and thick, and slab. Then he would steal away from his mother's side, and finding the muddiest place in the yard, would roll about in it and thoroughly enjoy himself. His mother often found fault with him for this, and would shake her head sadly and say: 'Ah, Browny! some day you will be sorry that you did not obey your old mother.' But no words of advice or warning could cure Browny of his bad habits.

Whitey was quite a clever little pig, but she was greedy. She was always thinking of her food, and looking forward to her dinner; and when the farm girl was seen carrying the pails across the yard, she would rise up on her hind legs and dance and caper with excitement. As soon as the food was poured into the trough she jostled Blacky and Browny out of the way in her eagerness to get the best and biggest bits for herself. Her mother often scolded her for her selfishness, and told her that some day she would suffer for being so greedy and grabbing.

Blacky was a good, nice little pig, neither dirty nor greedy. He had nice dainty ways (for a pig), and his skin was always as smooth and shining as black satin. He was much cleverer than Browny and Whitey, and his mother's heart used to swell with pride when she heard the farmer's friends say to each other that some day the little black fellow would be a prize pig.

Now the time came when the mother pig felt old and feeble and near her end. One day she called the three little pigs round her and said:

'My children, I feel that I am growing old and weak, and that I shall not live long. Before I die I should like to build a house for each of you, as this dear old sty in which we have lived so happily will be given to a new family of pigs, and you will have to turn out. Now, Browny, what sort of a house would you like to have?'

'A house of mud,' replied Browny, looking longingly at a wet puddle in the corner of the yard.

'And you, Whitey?' said the mother pig in rather a sad voice, for she was disappointed that Browny had made so foolish a choice.

'A house of cabbage,' answered Whitey, with a mouth full, and scarcely raising her snout out of the trough in which she was grubbing for some potato-parings.

'Foolish, foolish child!' said the mother pig, looking quite distressed, 'And you, Blacky?' turning to her youngest son, 'what sort of a house shall I order for you?'

'A house of brick, please mother, as it will be warm in winter, and cool in summer, and safe all the year round.'

'That is a sensible little pig,' replied his mother, looking fondly at him. 'I will see that the three houses are got ready at once. And now one last piece of advice. You have heard me talk of our old enemy the fox. When he hears that I am dead, he is sure to try and get hold of you, to carry you off to his den. He is very sly and will no doubt disguise himself, and pretend to be a friend, but you must promise me not to let him enter your houses on any pretext whatever.'

And the little pigs readily promised, for they had always had a great fear of the fox, of whom they had heard many terrible tales. A short time afterwards the old pig died, and the little pigs went to live in their own houses.

Browny was quite delighted with his soft mud walls and with the clay floor, which soon looked like nothing but a big mud pie. But that was what Browny enjoyed, and he was as happy as possible, rolling about all day and making himself in such a mess. One day, as he was lying half asleep in the mud, he heard a soft knock at his door, and a gentle voice said:

'May I come in, Master Browny? I want to see your beautiful new house.'

'Who are you?' said Browny, starting up in great fright, for though the voice sounded gentle, he felt sure it was a feigned voice, and he feared it was the fox.

'I am a friend come to call on you,' answered the voice.

'No, no,' replied Browny, 'I don't believe you are a friend. You are the wicked fox, against whom our mother warned us. I won't let you in.'

'Oho! is that the way you answer me?' said the fox, speaking very roughly in his natural voice. 'We shall soon see who is master here,' and with his paws he set to work and scraped a large hole in the soft mud walls. A moment later he had jumped through it, and catching Browny by the neck, flung him on his shoulders and trotted off with him to his den.

The next day, as Whitey was munching a few leaves of cabbage out of the corner of her house, the fox stole up to her door, determined to carry her off to join her brother in his den. He began speaking to her in the same feigned gentle voice in which he had spoken to Browny; but it frightened her very much when he said:

'I am a friend come to visit you, and to have some of your good cabbage for my dinner.'

'Please don't touch it,' cried Whitey in great distress. 'The cabbages are the walls of my house, and if you eat them you will make a hole, and the wind and rain will come in and give me a cold. Do go away; I am sure you are not a friend, but our wicked enemy the fox.' And poor Whitey began to whine and to whimper, and to wish that she had not been such a greedy little pig, and had chosen a more solid material than cabbages for her house. But it was too late now, and in another minute the fox had eaten his way through the cabbage walls, and had caught the trembling, shivering Whitey, and carried her off to his den.

The next day the fox started off for Blacky's house, because he had made up his mind that he would get the three little pigs together in his den, and then kill them, and invite all his friends to a feast. But when he reached the brick house, he found that the door was bolted and barred, so in his sly manner he began, 'Do let me in, dear Blacky. I have brought you a present of some eggs that I picked up in a farmyard on my way here.'

'No, no, Mister Fox,' replied Blacky, 'I am not going to open my door to you. I know your cunning ways. You have carried off poor Browny and Whitey, but you are not going to get me.'

At this the fox was so angry that he dashed with all his force against the wall, and tried to knock it down. But it was too strong and well-built; and though the fox scraped and tore at the bricks with his paws he only hurt himself, and at last he had to give it up, and limp away with his fore-paws all bleeding and sore.

'Never mind!' he cried angrily as he went off, 'I'll catch you another day, see if I don't, and won't I grind your bones to powder when I have got you in my den!' and he snarled fiercely and showed his teeth.

Next day Blacky had to go into the neighbouring town to do some marketing and to buy a big kettle. As he was walking home with it slung over his shoulder, he heard a sound of steps stealthily creeping after him. For a moment his heart stood still with fear, and then a happy thought came to him. He had just reached the top of a hill, and could see his own little house nestling at the foot of it among the trees. In a moment he had snatched the lid off the kettle and had jumped in himself. Coiling himself round he lay quite snug in the bottom of the kettle, while with his fore-leg he managed to put the lid on, so that he was entirely hidden. With a little kick from the inside he started the kettle off, and down the hill it rolled full tilt; and when the fox came up, all that he saw was a large black kettle spinning over the ground at a great pace. Very much disappointed, he was just going to turn away, when he saw the kettle stop close to the little brick house, and in a moment later Blacky jumped out of it and escaped with the kettle into the house, when he barred and bolted the door, and put the shutter up over the window.

'Oho!' exclaimed the fox to himself, 'you think you will escape me that way, do you? We shall soon see about that, my friend,' and very quietly and stealthily he prowled round the house looking for some way to climb on to the roof.

In the meantime Blacky had filled the kettle with water, and having put it on the fire, sat down quietly waiting for it to boil. Just as the kettle was beginning to sing, and steam to come out of the spout, he heard a sound like a soft, muffled step, patter, patter, patter overhead, and the next moment the fox's head and fore-paws were seen coming down the chimney. But Blacky very wisely had not put the lid on the kettle, and, with a yelp of pain, the fox fell into the boiling water, and before he could escape, Blacky had popped the lid on, and the fox was scalded to death.

As soon as he was sure that their wicked enemy was really dead, and could do them no further harm, Blacky started off to rescue Browny and Whitey. As he approached the den he heard piteous grunts and squeals from his poor little brother and sister who lived in constant terror of the fox killing and eating them. But when they saw Blacky appear at the entrance to the den their joy knew no bounds. He quickly found a sharp stone and cut the cords by which they were tied to a stake in the ground, and then all three started off together for Blacky's house, where they lived happily ever after; and Browny quite gave up rolling in the mud, and Whitey ceased to be greedy, for they never forgot how nearly these faults had brought them to an untimely end.

My Notes

• Text and illustrations taken from "The Green Fairy Book" by Andrew Lang.
• Andrew Lang didn't cite his source for this story. It differs significantly from the more famous version recorded by Halliwell.

The Story of the Three Little Pigs: An English Folk Tale

 

THE STORY OF THE THREE LITTLE PIGS

  Once upon a time when pigs spoke rhyme
  And monkeys chewed tobacco,
  And hens took snuff to make them tough,
  And ducks went quack, quack, quack, O!

There was an old sow with three little pigs, and as she had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune. 

The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and said to him:

“Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house.”

Which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it. Presently came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

To which the pig answered:

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

The wolf then answered to that:

“Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in.”

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and ate up the little pig.

The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze, and said:

“Please, man, give me that furze to build a house.”

Which the man did, and the pig built his house. 

Then along came the wolf, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

“Then I'll puff, and I'll huff, and I'll blow your house in.”

So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last he blew the house down, and he ate up the little pig.

The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said:

“Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with.”

So the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. 

So the wolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said:

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.”

“No, no, by the hair of my chiny chin chin.”

“Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in.”

Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed and he puffed, and he puffed and huffed; but he could not get the house down. 

When he found that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the house down, he said:

“Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips.”

“Where?” said the little pig.

“Oh, in Mr. Smith's Home-field, and if you will be ready tomorrow morning I will call for you, and we will go together, and get some for dinner.”

“Very well,” said the little pig, “I will be ready. What time do you mean to go?”

“Oh, at six o'clock.”

Well, the little pig got up at five, and got the turnips before the wolf came (which he did about six) and who said:

“Little Pig, are you ready?”

The little pig said: “Ready! I have been and come back again, and got a nice potful for dinner.”

The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be up to the little pig somehow or other, so he said:

“Little pig, I know where there is a nice apple-tree.”

“Where?” said the pig.

“Down at Merry-garden,” replied the wolf, “and if you will not deceive me I will come for you, at five o'clock tomorrow and get some apples.”

Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning at four o'clock, and went off for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came; but he had further to go, and had to climb the tree, so that just as he was coming down from it, he saw the wolf coming, which, as you may suppose, frightened him very much.

When the wolf came up he said:

“Little pig, what! are you here before me? Are they nice apples?”

“Yes, very,” said the little pig. “I will throw you down one.”

And he threw it so far, that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, the little pig jumped down and ran home. 

The next day the wolf came again, and said to the little pig:

“Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon, will you go?”

“Oh yes,” said the pig, “I will go; what time shall you be ready?”

“At three,” said the wolf. 

So the little pig went off before the time as usual, and got to the fair, and bought a butter-churn, which he was going home with, when he saw the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to do. So he got into the churn to hide, and by so doing turned it round, and it rolled down the hill with the pig in it, which frightened the wolf so much, that he ran home without going to the fair. 

He went to the little pig's house, and told him how frightened he had been by a great round thing which came down the hill past him. Then the little pig said:

“Hah, I frightened you, then. I had been to the fair and bought a butter-churn, and when I saw you, I got into it, and rolled down the hill.”

Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he would eat up the little pig, and that he would get down the chimney after him. 

When the little pig saw what he was about, he hung on the pot full of water, and made up a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf was coming down, took off the cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put on the cover again in an instant, boiled him up, and ate him for supper, and lived happy ever afterwards.

My Notes

• Text taken from "English Fairy Tales" by Joseph Jacobs.
• Illustrations by Leonard Brooke from "The Golden Goose Book."
• A different version of this story is found in "The Green Fairy Book" by Andrew Lang.
• Jacobs' notes: Source.—Halliwell, p. 16. Remarks.—As little pigs do not have hair on their chinny chin-chins, I suspect that they were originally kids, who have. This would bring the tale close to the Grimms' “Wolf and Seven Little Kids,” (No. 5). In Steel and Temple's “Lambikin” (Wide-awake Stories, p. 71), the Lambikin gets inside a Drumikin, and so nearly escapes the jackal.

Scrapefoot: An English Folk Tale - Retold by Joseph Jacobs

Scrapefoot

Once upon a time, there were three Bears who lived in a castle in a great wood. One of them was a great big Bear, and one was a middling Bear, and one was a little Bear. And in the same wood there was a Fox who lived all alone, his name was Scrapefoot. Scrapefoot was very much afraid of the Bears, but for all that he wanted very much to know all about them. And one day as he went through the wood he found himself near the Bears' Castle, and he wondered whether he could get into the castle. He looked all about him everywhere, and he could not see any one. So he came up very quietly, till at last he came up to the door of the castle, and he tried whether he could open it. Yes! the door was not locked, and he opened it just a little way, and put his nose in and looked, and he could not see any one. So then he opened it a little way farther, and put one paw in, and then another paw, and another and another, and then he was all in the Bears' Castle. He found he was in a great hall with three chairs in it—one big, one middling, and one little chair; and he thought he would like to sit down and rest and look about him; so he sat down on the big chair. But he found it so hard and uncomfortable that it made his bones ache, and he jumped down at once and got into the middling chair, and he turned round and round in it, but he couldn't make himself comfortable. So then he went to the little chair and sat down in it, and it was so soft and warm and comfortable that Scrapefoot was quite happy; but all at once it broke to pieces under him and he couldn't put it together again! So he got up and began to look about him again, and on one table he saw three saucers, of which one was very big, one was middling, one was quite a little saucer. Scrapefoot was very thirsty, and he began to drink out of the big saucer. But he only just tasted the milk in the big saucer, which was so sour and so nasty that he would not taste another drop of it. Then he tried the middling saucer, and he drank a little of that. He tried two or three mouthfuls, but it was not nice, and then he left it and went to the little saucer, and the milk in the little saucer was so sweet and so nice that he went on drinking it till it was all gone.

Then Scrapefoot thought he would like to go upstairs; and he listened and he could not hear any one. So upstairs he went, and he found a great room with three beds in it; one was a big bed, and one was a middling bed, and one was a little white bed; and he climbed up into the big bed, but it was so hard and lumpy and uncomfortable that he jumped down again at once, and tried the middling bed. That was rather better, but he could not get comfortably in it, so after turning about a little while he got up and went to the little bed; and that was so soft and so warm and so nice that he fell fast asleep at once.

And after a time the Bears came home, and when they got into the hall the big Bear went to his chair and said, "WHO'S BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR?" and the middling Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR?" and the little Bear said, "Who's been sitting in my chair and has broken it all to pieces?" And then they went to have their milk, and the big Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN DRINKING MY MILK?" and the middling Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN DRINKING MY MILK?" and the little Bear said, "Who's been drinking my milk and has drunk it all up?" Then they went upstairs and into the bedroom, and the big Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN SLEEPING IN MY BED?" and the middling Bear said, "WHO'S BEEN SLEEPING IN MY BED?" and the little Bear said, "Who's been sleeping in my bed?—and see here he is!" So then the Bears came and wondered what they should do with him; and the big Bear said, "Let's hang him!" and then the middling Bear said, "Let's drown him!" and then the little Bear said, "Let's throw him out of the window." And then the Bears took him to the window, and the big Bear took two legs on one side and the middling Bear took two legs on the other side, and they swung him backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, and out of the window. Poor Scrapefoot was so frightened, and he thought every bone in his body must be broken. But he got up and first shook one leg—no, that was not broken; and then another, and that was not broken; and another and another, and then he wagged his tail and found there were no bones broken. So then he galloped off home as fast as he could go, and never went near the Bears' Castle again.

My Notes

• This story is taken from "More English Fairy Tales" by Joseph Jacobs. It is a variant of The Three Bears.
• From Joseph Jacobs' notes: "Collected by Mr. Batten from Mrs. H., who heard it from her mother over forty years ago. This remarkable variant raises the question whether Southey did anything more than transform Scrapefoot into his naughty old woman, who in her turn has been transformed by popular tradition into the naughty girl Silver-hair. Mr. Nutt ingeniously suggests that Southey heard the story told of an old vixen, and mistook the rustic name of a female fox for the metaphorical application to women of fox-like temper. Mrs. H.'s version to my mind has all the marks of priority. It is throughout an animal tale, the touch at the end of the shaking the paws and the name Scrapefoot are too volkstümlich to have been conscious variations on Southey's tale. In introducing the story in his Doctor, the poet laureate did not claim to do more than repeat a popular tale. I think that there can be little doubt that in Mrs. H.'s version we have now recovered this in its original form. If this is so, we may here have one more incident of the great Northern beast epic of bear and fox, on which Prof. Krohn has written an instructive monograph, Bär (Wolf.) und Fuchs (Helsingfors, 1889)."

The Story of the Three Bears - by Robert Southey

 

THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS

Once upon a time there were Three Bears, who lived together in a house of their own in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and one was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They had each a pot for their porridge, a little pot for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot for the Great, Huge Bear. 

And they had each a chair to sit in; a little chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the Middle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. 

And they had each a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the Great, Huge Bear.

One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by beginning too soon to eat it. 

And while they were walking, a little girl called Goldilocks came to the house. She could not have been a good, honest little girl; for, first, she looked in at the window, and then she peeped in at the keyhole; and, seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch. The door was not fastened, because the bears were good bears, who did nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody would harm them. 

So Goldilocks opened the door and went in; and well pleased she was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she had been a good little girl, she would have waited till the bears came home, and then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast; for they were good bears—a little rough or so, as the manner of bears is, but for all that very good-natured and hospitable. But she was an impudent, bad little girl, and she set about helping herself.

So first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she tasted the porridge of the Middle Bear; and that was too cold for her; and she said a bad word about that too. And then she went to the porridge of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it all up: but the naughty Goldilocks said a bad word about the little porridge-pot, because it did not hold enough for her.

Then Goldilocks sat down in the chair of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sat down in the chair of the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sat down in the chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too hard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and there she sat till the bottom of the chair came out, and down came she, plump upon the ground. And the naughty Goldilocks said a wicked word about that too.

Then Goldilocks went upstairs into the bed-chamber in which the three bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great, Huge Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay down upon the bed of the Middle Bear; and that was too high at the foot for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and that was neither too high at the head, nor at the foot, but just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there till she fell fast asleep.

By this time the three bears thought their porridge would be cool enough; so they came home to breakfast. Now Goldilocks had left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear, standing in his porridge.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great gruff voice. 

And when the Middle Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it too. They were wooden spoons; if they had been silver ones, the naughty Goldilocks would have put them in her pocket.

'Somebody Has Been At My Porridge!'

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.

'Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up!'

said the Little, Small Wee Bear, in his little, small wee voice.

Upon this the three bears, seeing that some one had entered their house, and eaten up the Little, Small Wee Bear's breakfast, began to look about them. Now Goldilocks had not put the hard cushion straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And Goldilocks had squatted down the soft cushion of the Middle Bear.

'Somebody Has Been Sitting In My Chair!'

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And you know what Goldilocks had done to the third chair.

'Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sat the bottom of it out!'

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Then the three bears thought it necessary that they should make farther search; so they went up stairs into their bed-chamber. Now Goldilocks had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its place.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And Goldilocks had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out of its place.

'Somebody Has Been Lying In My Bed!'

said the Middle Bear in his middle voice.

And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was the bolster in its place, and the pillow in its place upon the bolster, and upon the pillow was Goldilocks' pretty head,—which was not in its place, for she had no business there.

'Somebody has been lying in my bed,—and here she is!'

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Goldilocks had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff voice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was no more to her than the roaring of wind or the rumbling of thunder. And she had heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if she had heard someone speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp, and so shrill, that it awakened her at once. 

Up she started; and when she saw the Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself out at the other, and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the bears, like good, tidy bears as they were, always opened their bedchamber window when they got up in the morning. Out Goldilocks jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the fall, or ran into the wood and was lost there, or found her way out of the wood and was punished for running away from home, I cannot tell. But the Three Bears never saw anything more of her.

My Notes

• This version of the story (which is the most popular public domain version) was written by Robert Southey, and can be easily found in Andrew Lang's "The Green Fairy Book" and Joseph Jacobs' "English Fairy Tales."
• The illustrations are by Leonard Brooke, from "The Golden Goose Book."
• The intruder in Southey's version was originally a little old woman. This was altered by later publishers of the tale to a little girl named Silver Hair, which caught on to the point that other publishers kept her as a little girl, eventually calling her Goldilocks. For the main text on this site, I have called the intruder "a little girl called Goldilocks" in order to stay consistent with Leonard Brooke's illustrations. The unaltered Southey version can be found below.
• A variant of this story, called "Scrapefoot," appears in Joseph Jacobs' "More English Fairy Tales."

Unaltered Southey version:

Once upon a time there were Three Bears, who lived together in a house of their own in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and one was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They had each a pot for their porridge, a little pot for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in; a little chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the Middle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the Great, Huge Bear.

One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little old woman came to the house. She could not have been a good, honest old woman; for, first, she looked in at the window, and then she peeped in at the keyhole; and, seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch. The door was not fastened, because the bears were good bears, who did nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody would harm them. So the little old woman opened the door and went in; and well pleased she was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she had been a good little old woman she would have waited till the bears came home, and then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast; for they were good bears—a little rough or so, as the manner of bears is, but for all that very good-natured and hospitable. But she was an impudent, bad old woman, and set about helping herself.

So first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she tasted the porridge of the Middle Bear; and that was too cold for her; and she said a bad word about that too. And then she went to the porridge of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it all up: but the naughty old woman said a bad word about the little porridge-pot, because it did not hold enough for her.

Then the little old woman sate down in the chair of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sate down in the chair of the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sate down in the chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too hard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and there she sate till the bottom of the chair came out, and down came she, plump upon the ground. And the naughty old woman said a wicked word about that too.

Then the little old woman went up stairs into the bed-chamber in which the three bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great, Huge Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay down upon the bed of the Middle Bear; and that was too high at the foot for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and that was neither too high at the head, nor at the foot, but just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there till she fell fast asleep.

By this time the three bears thought their porridge would be cool enough; so they came home to breakfast. Now the little old woman had left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear, standing in his porridge.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great gruff voice. And when the Middle Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it too. They were wooden spoons; if they had been silver ones, the naughty old woman would have put them in her pocket.

'Somebody Has Been At My Porridge!'

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.

'Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up!'

said the Little, Small Wee Bear, in his little, small wee voice.

Upon this the three bears, seeing that some one had entered their house, and eaten up the Little, Small Wee Bear's breakfast, began to look about them. Now the little old woman had not put the hard cushion straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old woman had squatted down the soft cushion of the Middle Bear.

'Somebody Has Been Sitting In My Chair!'

said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.

And you know what the little old woman had done to the third chair.

'Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sate the bottom of it out!'

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

Then the three bears thought it necessary that they should make farther search; so they went up stairs into their bed-chamber. Now the little old woman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its place.

'SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!'

said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.

And the little old woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out of its place.

'Somebody Has Been Lying In My Bed!'

said the Middle Bear in his middle voice.

And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was the bolster in its place, and the pillow in its place upon the bolster, and upon the pillow was the little old woman's ugly, dirty head,—which was not in its place, for she had no business there.

'Somebody has been lying in my bed,—and here she is!'

said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.

The little old woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff voice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was no more to her than the roaring of wind or the rumbling of thunder. And she had heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if she had heard someone speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp, and so shrill, that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and when she saw the Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself out at the other, and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the bears, like good, tidy bears as they were, always opened their bedchamber window when they got up in the morning. Out the little old woman jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the fall, or ran into the wood and was lost there, or found her way out of the wood and was taken up by the constable and sent to the House of Correction for a vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But the Three Bears never saw anything more of her.