The Fisherman's Wife

The Fisherman by the Sea

Long ago, a poor fisherman lived with his wife in a tiny, leaky hut right beside the sea. Every day the fisherman went out to fish, and every day he caught just enough to get by. It was a small life, but it could have been a happy one.

One bright morning, the fisherman sat with his line dropped deep into the clear water. He waited and waited, and at last the line gave a tug. He pulled — and up came a great shining fish, larger than any he had ever seen.

Then the fish opened its mouth and spoke.

"Please, fisherman, let me live," it said. "I am no ordinary fish. I am an enchanted prince. Put me back into the water, I beg you."

"Of course," said the kind fisherman. "A fish that talks so politely should certainly be allowed to swim free." And he slipped the fish gently back into the sea, where it darted away, leaving a long streak behind it in the water.

The First Wish

When the fisherman went home and told his wife, Ilsabill, what had happened, she frowned.

"You caught a magic fish — and you wished for nothing?" she cried. "We live in a leaky hut! Go back at once and ask the fish for a snug little cottage."

The fisherman did not like to ask, but to please his wife he walked down to the shore. The sea was calm and green. He called out:

"Fish of the sea, come listen to me, For Ilsabill, my willful wife, Wishes a wish against my life."

The fish rose up. "What does she want?" it asked.

"A little cottage, instead of our leaky hut," said the fisherman.

"Go home," said the fish. "She has it already."

And when the fisherman returned, the hut was gone. In its place stood a pretty cottage with a garden, hens in the yard, and a warm fire inside. "There," he thought. "Now we shall be content."

More and More

But Ilsabill was not content. Within a week she said, "This cottage is too cramped. Go and ask the fish for a great stone castle."

So the fisherman went down to the sea. This time the water was no longer green and calm — it had turned a dull purple and grey. He called the rhyme, and the fish gave the wife her castle, with golden rooms and servants and a table heaped with food.

Yet still she was not satisfied. "I should be king," she declared the next morning. The fisherman protested, but down to the troubled, darkening sea he went, and the fish made her king.

Then she wished to be emperor. The sea grew black and the waves rose high, but the fish granted it.

Then she wished to be pope, ruling over all. The sky thundered and the water churned, yet the fish granted that too.

Each time the fisherman came home, his wife sat in a grander hall, wearing a taller crown — and each time her face was no happier than before.

The Wish Too Far

That night Ilsabill could not sleep. She watched the sun set and the moon rise, and a terrible new hunger filled her.

"Husband," she said, "I am pope, but I cannot make the sun rise or the moon set. I must rule those too. Go and tell the fish: I wish to command the sun, the moon, and the stars."

The fisherman trembled. "Wife, please — be content. You have everything."

"Go!" she shouted.

So out he went into a storm so wild he could barely stand. The sky was black, the wind screamed, and the sea heaved in mountains of dark water. He could hardly hear his own voice as he called:

"Fish of the sea, come listen to me, For Ilsabill, my willful wife, Wishes a wish against my life."

The great fish surfaced in the boiling waves. "What does she want now?" it asked.

"She wishes to rule the sun, the moon, and the stars," said the fisherman.

The fish looked at him a long moment. Then it said, very quietly, "Go home. She is sitting in your old hut again."

Back Where They Began

And so it was. The castle was gone. The crown was gone. The servants and gold and grand halls had all vanished like sea foam. There stood the little leaky hut by the water, exactly as it had been on the day the fisherman caught the magic fish.

Inside sat Ilsabill, with nothing — no more than she had owned at the start.

The storm faded, the sea grew calm and green once more, and the fisherman and his wife are living in that very same hut to this very day. They never saw the magic fish again, for some lessons need only be taught once.

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The moral: A heart that is never thankful can never be happy. The more you grasp for, the more you may lose. There is great wisdom in knowing when to say, "This is enough."

Want more world folktales? Try The Magic Porridge Pot or King Midas and the Golden Touch next.