THE BREMEN TOWN-MUSICIANS
A certain man had a Donkey, which had carried the corn-sacks to the mill faithfully for many a long year; but his strength was going, and he was growing more and more unfit for work.
Then his master began to consider how he might best save his keep; but the Donkey, seeing that no good wind was blowing, ran away and set out on the road to Bremen.
“There,” he thought, “I can surely be town-musician.”
When he had walked some distance, he found a Hound lying on the road, gasping like one who had run till he was tired.
“What are you gasping so for, you big fellow?” asked the Donkey.
“Ah,” replied the Hound, “as I am old, and daily grow weaker and no longer can hunt, my master wants to kill me. So I have taken to flight. But now how am I to earn my bread?”
“I tell you what,” said the Donkey, “I am going to Bremen, and shall be town-musician there. Come with me and engage yourself also as a musician. I will play the lute, and you shall beat the kettledrum.”
The Hound agreed, and on they went.
Before long, they came to a Cat, sitting on the path, with a face like three rainy days!
“Now then, old shaver, what has gone askew with you?” asked the Donkey.
“Who can be merry when his neck is in danger?” answered the Cat. “Because I am now getting old, and my teeth are worn to stumps, and I prefer to sit by the fire and spin, rather than hunt about after mice, my mistress wants to drown me, so I have run away. But now good advice is scarce. Where am I to go?”
“Come with us to Bremen. You understand night-music, so you can be a town-musician.”
The Cat thought well of it, and went with them.
After this the three fugitives came to a farmyard, where the Cock was sitting upon the gate, crowing with all his might.
“Your crow goes through and through one,” said the Donkey. “What is the matter?”
“I have been foretelling fine weather, because it is the day on which Our Lady washes the Christ-child’s little shirts, and wants to dry them,” said the Cock. “But guests are coming for Sunday, so the housewife has no pity, and has told the cook that she intends to eat me in the soup to-morrow. This evening I am to have my head cut off. Now I am crowing at full pitch while I can.”
“Ah, but Red-Comb,” said the Donkey, “you had better come away with us. We are going to Bremen. You can find something better than death everywhere. You have a good voice, and if we make music together, it must have some quality!”
The Cock agreed to this plan, and all four went on together.
They could not, however, reach the city of Bremen in one day, and in the evening they came to a forest where they meant to pass the night. The Donkey and the Hound laid themselves down under a large tree. The Cat and the Cock settled themselves in the branches; but the Cock flew right to the top, where he was most safe.
Before he went to sleep, he looked round on all the four sides, and thought he saw in the distance a little spark burning. So he called out to his companions that there must be a house not far off, for he saw a light.
The Donkey said, “If so, we had better get up and go on, for the shelter here is bad.”
The Hound thought that a few bones with some meat would do him good too!
They made their way to the place where the light was, and soon saw it shine brighter and grow larger, until they came to a well-lighted robber’s house. The Donkey, as the biggest, went to the window and looked in.
“What do you see, my Grey-Horse?” asked the Cock.
“What do I see?” answered the Donkey; “a table covered with good things to eat and drink, and robbers sitting at it enjoying themselves.”
“That would be the sort of thing for us,” said the Cock.
“Yes, yes! ah, how I wish we were there!” said the Donkey.
Then the animals took counsel together as to how they could drive away the robbers, and at last they thought of a plan. The Donkey was to place himself with his forefeet upon the window-ledge, the Hound was to jump on the Donkey’s back, the Cat was to climb upon the Hound, and lastly the Cock was to fly up and perch upon the head of the Cat.
When this was done, at a given signal, they began to perform their music together. The Donkey brayed, the Hound barked, the Cat mewed, and the Cock crowed. Then they burst through the window into the room, so that the glass clattered!
At this horrible din, the robbers sprang up, thinking no otherwise than that a ghost had come in, and fled in a great fright out into the forest.
The four companions now sat down at the table, well content with what was left, and ate as if they were going to fast for a month.
As soon as the four minstrels had done, they put out the light, and each sought for himself a sleeping-place according to his nature and to what suited him. The Donkey laid himself down upon some straw in the yard, the Hound behind the door, the Cat upon the hearth near the warm ashes, and the Cock perched himself upon a beam of the roof. Being tired with their long walk, they soon went to sleep.
When it was past midnight, the robbers saw from afar that the light was no longer burning in their house, and all appeared quiet.
The captain said, “We ought not to have let ourselves be frightened out of our wits;” and ordered one of them to go and examine the house.
The messenger finding all still, went into the kitchen to light a candle, and, taking the glistening fiery eyes of the Cat for live coals, he held a lucifer-match to them to light it. But the Cat did not understand the joke, and flew in his face, spitting and scratching.
He was dreadfully frightened, and ran to the back door, but the Dog, who lay there, sprang up and bit his leg.
Then, as he ran across the yard by the straw-heap, the Donkey gave him a smart kick with his hind foot. The Cock, too, who had been awakened by the noise, and had become lively, cried down from the beam:
“Kicker-ee-ricker-ee-ree!”
Then the robber ran back as fast as he could to his captain, and said, “Ah, there is a horrible Witch sitting in the house, who spat on me and scratched my face with her long claws. By the door stands a man with a knife, who stabbed me in the leg. In the yard there lies a black monster, who beat me with a wooden club. And above, upon the roof, sits the judge, who called out:
“‘Bring the rogue here to me!’
so I got away as well as I could.”
After this the robbers did not trust themselves in the house again. But it suited the four musicians of Bremen so well that they did not care to leave it any more.
And the mouth of him who last told this story, is still warm.
THE SIX SWANS
Once upon a time, a certain King was hunting in a great forest, and he chased a wild beast so eagerly that none of his attendants could follow him. When evening drew near, he stopped and looked around him, and saw that he had lost his way. He sought a way out, but could find none. Then he perceived an Old Woman with a head which nodded all the time, who came toward him, but she was a Witch.
“Good woman,” said he to her, “can you not show me the way through the forest?”
“Oh, yes, Lord King,” she answered, “that I certainly can, but on one condition, and if you do not fulfill that, you will never get out of the forest, and will die of hunger in it.”
“What kind of a condition is it?” asked the King.
“I have a daughter,” said the old woman, “who is as beautiful as any one in the world, and well deserves to be your wife. If you will make her your Queen, I will show you the way out of the forest.”
In the anguish of his heart the King consented, and the old woman led him to her little hut, where her daughter was sitting by the fire. She received the King as if she had been expecting him. He saw that she was very beautiful, but still she did not please him, and he could not look at her without secret horror.
After he had taken the maiden up on his horse, the old woman showed him the way, and the King reached his royal palace again, where the wedding was celebrated.
The King had already been married once, and had by his first wife, seven children, six boys and a girl, whom he loved better than anything else in the world. As he now feared that the new Queen might not treat them well, and even do them some injury, he took them to a lonely castle which stood in the midst of a forest. It lay concealed, and the way was so difficult to find, that he himself would not have found it at all, if a Wise Woman had not given him a ball of yarn with wonderful properties. When he threw it down before him, it unrolled itself and showed him his path.
The King, however, went so frequently to visit his dear children, that the Queen noticed his absence. She was curious and wanted to know what he did when he was alone in the forest. She gave a great deal of money to his servants, and they betrayed the secret to her, and told her likewise of the ball which alone could point out the way.
And now she knew no rest until she had learnt where the King kept the ball of yarn. Then she made little shirts of white silk, and as she had learnt the art of witchcraft from her mother, she sewed a charm inside them. And one day, when the King had ridden forth to hunt, she took the little shirts and went into the forest, and the ball showed her the way.
The children, who saw from a distance that some one was approaching, thought that their dear father was coming to them, and full of joy, ran to meet him. Then she threw one of the little shirts over each of them. And no sooner had the shirts touched their bodies than they were changed into Swans, and flew away over the forest.
The Queen went home quite delighted, and thought she had got rid of all the children, but the girl had not run out with her brothers, and the Queen knew nothing about her.
Next day, the King went to visit his children, but found no one but the little girl.
“Where are your brothers?” asked the King.
“Alas, dear Father,” she answered, “they have gone away and left me alone!” and she told him that she had seen from her little window, how her brothers had flown away over the forest in the shape of Swans. And she showed him the feathers, which they had let fall in the courtyard, and which she had picked up.
The King mourned, but he did not think that the Queen had done this wicked deed. And as he feared that the girl also would be stolen from him, he wanted to take her away. But she was afraid of the Queen, and entreated the King to let her stay just one night more in the forest-castle.
The poor girl thought, “I can no longer remain here. I will go and seek my brothers.” And when night came, she ran away, and went straight into the forest.
She walked the whole night long, and next day also without stopping, until she could go no farther for weariness. Then she saw a forest-hut, and went into it, and found a room with six little beds. She did not venture to get into any of them, but crept under one, and lay down on the hard ground, to pass the night there. Just before sunset she heard a rustling, and saw six Swans come flying in at the window. They alighted on the ground and blew at each other, and blew all the feathers off, and their swan’s skins stripped off like a shirt.
Then the maiden looked at them and recognized her brothers. She rejoiced and crept forth from beneath the bed. The brothers were not less delighted to see their little sister, but their joy was short.
“Here can you not abide,” they said to her. “This is a shelter for robbers. If they come home and find you, they will kill you.”
“But can you not protect me?” asked the little sister.
“No,” they replied, “only for one quarter of an hour each evening, can we lay aside our swan’s skins and have our human form. After that, we are once more turned into Swans.”
The little sister wept, and said, “Can you not be set free?”
“Alas, no,” they answered, “the conditions are too hard! For six years you may neither speak nor laugh, and in that time you must sew together six little shirts of Star-Flowers for us. And if one single word falls from your lips, all your work will be lost.”
And when the brothers had said this, the quarter of an hour was over, and they flew out of the window again as Swans.
The maiden, however, resolved to deliver her brothers, even if it should cost her her life. She left the hut, went into the midst of the forest, seated herself on a tree, and there passed the night. Next morning, she went out and gathered Star-Flowers and began to sew. She could not speak to any one, and she had no wish to laugh. She sat there and looked at nothing but her work.
When she had spent a long time there, it came to pass that the King of the country was hunting in the forest, and his huntsmen came to the tree on which the maiden was sitting.
They called to her, and said, “Who are you?” But she made no answer. “Come down to us,” said they. “We will not do you any harm.”
She only shook her head. As they pressed her further with questions, she threw her golden necklace down to them, and thought to content them with that. They, however, did not cease, and then she threw her girdle down to them, and as this also was to no use, her garters, and little by little everything which she had on that she could do without, until she had nothing left but her shift. The huntsmen, however, did not let themselves be turned aside by that, but climbed the tree and fetched the maiden down and led her before the King.
The King asked, “Who are you? What are you doing on the tree?”
But she did not answer. He put the question in every language that he knew, but she remained as mute as a fish. As she was so beautiful, the King’s heart was touched, and he was smitten with a great love for her. He put his mantle on her, took her before him on his horse, and carried her to his castle.
Then he caused her to be dressed in rich garments, and she shone in her beauty like bright daylight, but no word could be drawn from her. He placed her by his side at table, and her modest bearing and courtesy pleased him so much, that he said, “She is the one whom I wish to marry, and no other woman in the world.” And a few days after, he united himself to her.
The King, however, had a wicked mother, who was dissatisfied with his marriage and spoke ill of the young Queen. “Who knows,” said she, “from whence comes the creature, who can’t speak? She is not worthy of a King!”
After a year had passed, when the Queen brought her first child into the world, the old woman took it away from her and smeared her mouth with blood as she slept. Then she went to the King and accused the Queen of being a man-eater. The King would not believe it, and would not suffer any one to do her injury. She, however, sat continually sewing at the shirts, and cared for nothing else.
The next time, when she again bore a beautiful boy, the false old woman used the same treachery, but the King could not bring himself to believe her words. He said, “She is too pious and good to do anything of that kind. If she were not dumb, and could defend herself, her innocence would come to light.”
But when the old woman stole away the newly-born child for the third time, and accused the Queen, who did not utter one word of defense, the King could do no otherwise than deliver her over to justice; and she was sentenced to be burned.
When the day came for the sentence to be executed, it was the last day of the six years during which she was not to speak or laugh, and she had delivered her dear brothers from the power of the enchantment. The six shirts were ready, only the left sleeve of the sixth was wanting.
When, therefore, she was led to the stake, she laid the shirts on her arm. And when she stood on high and the fire was just going to be lighted, she looked around and six Swans came flying through the air toward her. Then she saw that her deliverance was near, and her heart leapt with joy.
The Swans swept toward her and sank down so that she could throw the shirts over them. And as they were touched by them, their swan’s skins fell off, and her brothers stood in their own form before her, vigorous and handsome. The youngest lacked only his left arm, and had in its place a swan’s wing on his shoulder.
They embraced and kissed each other, and the Queen went to the King, who was greatly moved, and she began to speak, and said, “Dearest Husband, now I may speak and declare to you that I am innocent, and falsely accused.” And she told him of the treachery of the old woman who had taken away her three children, and hidden them.
To the great joy of the King, they were brought back. And as a punishment, the wicked woman was bound to the stake and burned to ashes.
But the King and the Queen, with their six brothers, lived many years in happiness and peace.
THE POOR MILLER’S BOY AND THE CAT
In a certain mill, lived an old miller who had neither wife nor child. Three apprentices served under him.
As they had been with him several years, he one day said to them, “I am old, and want to sit in the chimney-corner. Go out, and whichsoever of you brings me the best horse, to him will I give the mill. And in return for it, he shall take care of me till my death.”
The third of the boys was, however, the drudge, who was looked on as foolish by the others. They begrudged the mill to him, and afterward he would not have it.
Then all three went out together, and when they came to the village, the two said to stupid Hans, “You may just as well stay here; as long as you live you will never get a horse.”
Hans, however, went with them, and when it was night they came to a cave in which they lay down to sleep. The two sharp ones waited until Hans had fallen asleep, then they got up, and went away leaving him where he was. They thought they had done a very clever thing, but it was certain to turn out ill for them.
When the sun arose, and Hans woke up, he was lying in a deep cavern. He looked around on every side and exclaimed, “Oh, alas! where am I?”
Then he got up and clambered out of the cave, into the forest, thinking:
“Here I am quite alone and deserted, how shall I obtain a horse now?”
Whilst he was thus walking full of thought, he met a small Tabby-Cat which said quite kindly, “Hans, where are you going?”
“Alas, you cannot help me.”
“I well know your desire,” said the Cat. “You wish to have a beautiful horse. Come with me, and be my faithful servant for seven years, and then I will give you a horse more beautiful than any you have ever seen in your whole life.”
“Well, this is a wonderful Cat!” thought Hans, “but I am determined to see if she is telling the truth.”
So she took him with her into her enchanted castle, where there were nothing but cats who were her servants. They leapt nimbly upstairs and downstairs, and were merry and happy.
In the evening when they sat down to dinner, three of them had to make music. One played the bassoon, the other the fiddle, and the third put the trumpet to his lips, and blew out his cheeks as much as he possibly could.
When they had dined, the table was carried away, and the Cat said, “Now, Hans, come and dance with me.”
“No,” said he, “I won’t dance with a pussy cat. I have never done that yet.”
“Then take him to bed,” said she to the cats.
So one of them lighted him to his bedroom, one pulled his shoes off, one his stockings, and at last one of them blew out the candle.
Next morning they returned and helped him out of bed, one put his stockings on for him, one tied his garters, one brought his shoes, one washed him, and one dried his face with her tail.
“That feels very soft!” said Hans.
He, however, had to serve the Cat, and chop some wood every day. And to do that, he had an axe of silver, while the wedge and saw were of silver and the mallet of copper. So he chopped the wood small.
He stayed there in the house and had good meat and drink, but never saw any one but the Tabby-Cat and her servants.
Once she said to him, “Go and mow my meadow, and dry the grass,” and gave him a scythe of silver, and a whetstone of gold, but bade him deliver them up again carefully.
So Hans went thither, and did what he was bidden, and when he had finished the work, he carried the scythe, whetstone, and hay to the house, and asked if it was not yet time for her to give him his reward.
“No,” said the Cat, “you must first do something more for me of the same kind. There is timber of silver, carpenter’s axe, square, and everything that is needful, all of silver, with these build me a small house.”
Then Hans built the small house, and said that he had now done everything, and still he had no horse.
Nevertheless, the seven years had gone by with him as if they were six months. The Cat asked him if he would like to see her horses?
“Yes,” said Hans.
Then she opened the door of the small house. And when she had opened it, there stood twelve horses, – such horses, so bright and shining, that his heart rejoiced at the sight of them.
And now she gave him to eat and to drink, and said, “Go home. I will not give you your horse to take away with you. But in three days’ time, I will follow you and bring it.”
So Hans set out, and she showed him the way to the mill. She had, however, never once given him a new coat, and he had been obliged to keep on his dirty old smock-frock, which he had brought with him, and which during the seven years had everywhere become too small for him.
When he reached home, the two other apprentices were there again, and each of them certainly had brought a horse with him. But one of them was blind and the other lame. They asked Hans where his horse was.
“It will follow me in three days’ time.”
Then they laughed and said, “Indeed, stupid Hans! where will you get a horse? It will be a fine one!”
Hans went into the parlor, but the miller said he should not sit down to table for he was so ragged and torn, that they would all be ashamed of him if any one came in. So they gave him a mouthful of food outside.
At night, when they went to rest, the two others would not let him have a bed, and at last he was forced to creep into the goose-house, and lie down on a little hard straw.
In the morning, when he awoke, the three days had passed, and a coach came with six horses and they shone so bright that it was delightful to see them! – and a servant brought a seventh as well, which was for the poor miller’s boy.
And a magnificent Princess alighted from the coach, and went into the mill. And this Princess was the little Tabby-Cat whom poor Hans had served for seven years.
She asked the miller where the miller’s boy and drudge was.
Then the miller said, “We will not have him here in the mill, he is so ragged. He is lying in the goose-house.”
Then the King’s Daughter said that they were to fetch him immediately.
So they brought him; and he had to hold his little smock together to cover himself.
Her servants unpacked splendid garments, and washed him and dressed him. And when it was done, no King could have looked more handsome.
Then the Princess desired to see the horses, which the other apprentices had brought home with them. One of them was blind and the other lame. So she ordered her servants to bring the seventh horse.
When the miller saw it, he said such a horse as that had never before entered his yard.
“And that is for the third miller’s boy,” said she.
“Then he must have the mill,” said the miller.
But the Princess said that the horse was for himself, and that he was to keep his mill as well. Then she took her faithful Hans, set him in the coach, and drove away with him.
They first drove to the little house, which he had built with the silver tools. Behold! it was a great castle! Everything inside it was of silver and gold!
Then she married him; and he was rich, so rich that he had enough for all the rest of his life. After this, let no one say that any one who is silly can never become a person of importance.