The Spindle, The Shuttle, and The Needle
There was once a girl whose father and mother
died while she was still a little child. All alone, in a small house at the end of the
village, dwelt her godmother, who supported herself by spinning, weaving, and sewing. The
old woman took the forlorn child to live with her, kept her to her work, and educated her
in all that is good. When the girl was fifteen years old, the old woman became ill, called
the child to her bedside, and said, dear daughter, I feel my end drawing near. I leave you
the little house, which will protect you from wind and weather, and my spindle, shuttle,
and needle, with which you can earn your bread. Then she laid her hands on the girl's
head, blessed her, and said, only preserve the love of God in your heart, and all will go
well with you. Thereupon she closed her eyes, and when she was laid in the earth, the
maiden followed the coffin, weeping bitterly, and paid her the last mark of respect. And
now the maiden lived quite alone in the little house, and was industrious, and spun, wove,
and sewed, and the blessing of the good old woman was on all that she did. It seemed as if
the flax in the room increased of its own accord, and whenever she wove a piece of cloth
or carpet, or had made a shirt, she at once found a buyer who paid her amply for it, so
that she was in want of nothing, and even had something to share with others. About this
time, the son of the king was traveling about the country looking for a bride. He was not
to choose a poor one, and did not want to have a rich one. So he said, she shall be my
wife who is the poorest, and at the same time the richest. When he came to the village
where the maiden dwelt, he inquired, as he did wherever he went, who was the richest and
also the poorest girl in the place. They first named the richest. The poorest, they said,
was the girl who lived in the small house quite at the end of the village. The rich girl
was sitting in all her splendor before the door of her house, and when the prince
approached her, she got up, went to meet him, and made him a low curtsy. He looked at her,
said nothing, and rode on. When he came to the house of the poor girl, she was not
standing at the door, but sitting in her little room. He stopped his horse, and saw
through the window, on which the bright sun was shining, the girl sitting at her
spinning-wheel, busily spinning. She looked up, and when she saw that the prince was
looking in, she blushed all over her face, let her eyes fall, and went on spinning. I do
not know whether, just at that moment, the thread was quite even, but she went on spinning
until the king's son had ridden away again. Then she went to the window, opened it, and
said, it is so warm in this room, and she looked after him as long as she could
distinguish the white feathers in his hat. Then she sat down to work again in her room and
went on with her spinning, and a saying which the old woman had often repeated when she
was sitting at her work, came into her mind, and she sang these words to herself, spindle,
my spindle, haste, haste thee away, and here to my house bring the wooer, I pray. And what
do you think happened. The spindle sprang out of her hand in an instant, and out of the
door, and when, in her astonishment, she got up and looked after it, she saw that it was
dancing out merrily into the open country, and drawing a shining gold thread after it.
Before long, it had entirely vanished from her sight. As she had now no spindle, the girl
took the weaver's shuttle in her hand, sat down to her loom, and began to weave. The
spindle, however, danced continually onwards, and just as the thread came to an end,
reached the prince. What do I see, he cried, the spindle certainly wants to show me the
way, turned his horse about, and rode back with the golden thread. The girl however, was
sitting at her work singing, shuttle, my shuttle, weave well this day, and guide the wooer
to me, I pray. Immediately the shuttle sprang out of her hand and out by the door. Before
the threshold, however, it began to weave a carpet which was more beautiful than the eyes
of man had ever yet beheld. Lilies and roses blossomed on both sides of it, and on a
golden ground in the center green branches ascended, under which bounded hares and
rabbits, stags and deer stretched their heads in between them, brightly-colored birds were
sitting in the branches above, they lacked nothing but the gift of song. The shuttle leapt
hither and thither, and everything seemed to grow of its own accord. As the shuttle had
run away, the girl sat down to sew. She held the needle in her hand and sang, needle, my
needle, sharp-pointed and fine, prepare for the wooer this house of mine. Then the needle
leapt out of her fingers, and flew everywhere about the room as quick as lightning. It was
just as if invisible spirits were working, it covered tables and benches with green cloth
in an instant, and the chairs with velvet, and hung the windows with silken curtains.
Hardly had the needle put in the last stitch than the maiden saw through the window the
white feathers of the prince, whom the spindle had brought thither by the golden thread.
He alighted, stepped over the carpet into the house, and when he entered the room, there
stood the maiden in her poor garments, but she shone out from within them like a rose
surrounded by leaves. You are the poorest and also the richest, said he to her. Come with
me, you shall be my bride. She did not speak, but she gave him her hand. Then he gave her
a kiss, led her forth, lifted her on to his horse, and took her to the royal castle, where
the wedding was solemnized with great rejoicings. The spindle, shuttle, and needle were
preserved in the treasure-chamber, and held in great honor.
--The End-- |
