Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm: A New English Version (15 page)

SEVENTEEN

THE MUSICIANS OF BREMEN

Once there was a man who had a donkey, and for years this donkey had carried sacks of grain to the mill without a word of complaint; but now his strength was running out, so he couldn’t work as hard as he used to, and his master thought it was time to stop feeding him. The donkey noticed this, and didn’t like it a bit, so he ran away and looked for the road to Bremen. His plan was to become a town musician.

When he’d gone a little way he came across a hunting hound lying in the road. The dog was panting as if he’d just run for miles.

‘What are you panting for, Grabber?’ said the donkey.

‘Well, I’m getting old, you see,’ explained the hound, ‘and I can’t run as far as I used to. My master reckons I’m no good any more, and he wanted to kill me, so I ran away; but I don’t know how to earn my living in any other way, and I’m getting hungry.’

‘Well, I tell you what,’ said the donkey, ‘I’m in more or less the same position, but I’ve got a plan. I’m going to Bremen, because they pay their town musicians a decent wage there. Come with me and take up music. I’m going to play the lute – it doesn’t look very difficult – and you can play the drums.’

‘That’s a very good idea,’ said the dog, and joined up with the donkey.

They walked on a little way, and then they saw a cat sitting at the roadside who looked as if he’d lost a pound and found a penny.

‘What’s the trouble, old Whisker Wiper?’ said the donkey.

‘Dear oh dear,’ said the cat, ‘I’m in a dreadful pickle. I’m getting on a bit – I don’t expect you noticed, but I’m not as young as I was, and my teeth are getting blunt. I used to catch mice, rats, any sort of vermin, you name it, but I’d rather sit by the stove and snooze these days. My mistress was going to drown me, but I ran away. I haven’t a clue what to do now. You got any ideas?’

‘Come with us to Bremen,’ said the donkey. ‘We’re going to join the town musicians. You know how to sing – I’ve heard your sort singing very sweetly at night – come along with us.’

The cat thought this was a very good idea, and they all went along together. Presently they came to a farmyard. Standing on the roof was a cockerel, crowing with all his might.

‘What are you crowing for?’ said the donkey. ‘It’s long past daybreak.’

‘I’m forecasting the weather,’ said the cockerel. ‘It’s Our Lady’s Day, when she washes the Christ Child’s shirts and hangs them out to dry. I’m telling the family it’s going to be dry and sunny, and you’d think they’d be grateful, but not a bit of it. They’ve got guests coming tomorrow, and they want to eat me, so the farmer’s wife has told the cook that this evening she’s going to chop my head off. I’m going to crow and crow while I’ve still got some breath in my lungs.’

‘Well, that’s a poor show,’ said the donkey. ‘Why don’t you come with us to Bremen? We’re going to be musicians. You’ve got a lovely voice, and when we all make music together, we’ll be irresistible.’

The cockerel agreed. Off they went, but they couldn’t reach the city of Bremen in one day, and in the evening they decided to look for shelter in the forest where they happened to find themselves. The donkey and the dog lay down under a big tree, the cat took to the branches, and the cockerel flew right to the top. Presently he came all the way down again with some news. Before falling asleep he’d looked all around, north, south, east, and west, and he thought there must be a house not far away, because he’d seen a light shining.

‘Well, let’s go there,’ said the donkey. ‘It can’t be worse than this.’

‘And if there’s a house,’ said the dog, ‘there might be a few bones with a bit of meat on them.’

So they set off in the direction of the light, and soon they saw it glowing through the trees. It became larger and larger, and then they were right in front of it. The donkey, being the tallest of them, went up to the window and looked in.

‘What can you see, Grey Face?’ asked the cockerel.

‘I can see a table covered with good things to eat and drink, but . . .’

‘But what?’

‘Sitting around the table are a dozen robbers, all tucking in as hard as they can.’

‘If only that were us!’ said the cockerel.

They discussed how they could drive the robbers away, and finally they agreed on a plan: the donkey would stand with his front feet on the windowsill, the dog would stand on his back, the cat would stand on the dog, and the cockerel would perch on the cat, and then they’d make some music. So they got themselves ready, and after the donkey had counted them in, they all started singing together as loud as they could: the donkey brayed, the dog barked, the cat miaowed and the cockerel crowed. When they’d finished they all jumped through the window, shattering the glass and making a terrible noise.

The robbers all leaped up at once, thinking it was the Devil, or at least a ghost, and fled into the woods in terrible fear. The four musicians sat themselves down and ate freely of the food that was left, guzzling as if they might not get any more food for a month.

When they’d finished they felt tired, because they’d had a long day, so they lay down to sleep, each finding the place he liked best: the donkey lay by the dung heap outside, the dog curled up behind the door, the cat stretched out on the hearth next to the fire, and the cockerel perched on the roof-beam.

At midnight the robbers, who were watching from some way off, saw that the light had gone out.

‘We shouldn’t have let ourselves be chased away like that,’ said the chief. ‘That’s not very brave, is it? Here, Lefty, go back and have a look. See what’s going on.’

Lefty crept back to the house. He could hear nothing, so he tiptoed into the kitchen and looked around. There was nothing to see but the cat’s fiery eyes. Lefty thought these were live coals, so he struck a match to make them blaze up again, and touched it to the cat’s nose.

Naturally, the cat didn’t like that. He leaped up, spitting and shrieking, and clawed at the robber’s face.

‘Eeeek!’ yelled Lefty, and ran towards the door. He stumbled over the dog, who bit him hard in the leg.

‘Yeowh!’ cried Lefty, and ran out into the yard. The donkey woke up and kicked him hard on the backside.

‘Aaagghh!’ shrieked Lefty, and that woke up the cockerel, who crowed, ‘
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
’

‘Nohhh!’ bellowed Lefty, and ran for the woods in terror of his life.

‘What is it? What is it?’ said the robber chief.

‘We can’t go back there!’ said Lefty. ‘There’s a horrible witch in the kitchen, and she scratched me with her nails. And there’s a man with a knife behind the door, and he stabbed me in the leg. And there’s a brute with a club outside, and he whacked me so hard I think he broke my fundament. And the judge is sitting on the roof, and he called out, “Bring the prisoner here!” So I ran and ran and ran.’

From then on, the robbers didn’t dare go back to the house. The four musicians of Bremen, on the other hand, liked it so much that they never left. They’re living there still, and as for the last person who told this story, his lips are still moving.

***

Tale type:
ATU 130, ‘The Animals in Night Quarters’

Source:
stories told to the Grimm brothers by the von Haxthausen family and Dorothea Viehmann

Similar stories:
Katharine M. Briggs: ‘The Bull, the Tup, the Cock and the Steg’, ‘How Jack Went to Seek His Fortune’ (
Folk Tales of Britain
)

The poor old superannuated animals, with their fond ideas of playing music in the city of Bremen, come out on top in the end, and a good thing too. I’m fond of this tale because of the simplicity and power of its form. When a tale is shaped so well that the line of the narrative seems to have been able to take no other path, and to have touched every important event in making for its end, one can only bow with respect for the teller.

EIGHTEEN

THE SINGING BONE

In a certain country at one time, many people were concerned about a wild boar that was churning up the farmers’ fields, killing the cattle, and ripping the life out of people with its tusks. The king proclaimed that whoever could rid the land of this brute would receive a great reward, but the animal was so huge and strong that no one dared go near the forest where it lived. In the end the king announced that anyone who could kill or capture it should have his only daughter for wife.

Now in that country there were two brothers, the sons of a poor man, and they declared that they would take on this fearful task. The older brother, who was cunning and clever, did so out of arrogance, but the younger, who was simple and innocent, was moved only by the goodness of his heart.

The king said, ‘If you want to be sure of finding the beast, you should go into the forest from opposite sides.’

Taking his advice, the older brother entered the forest from the west, and his younger brother from the east.

The younger had not walked for very long when a little man appeared on the path, carrying a black spear. He said, ‘I’m going to give you this spear because you’ve got an innocent heart. You can use it to kill the wild boar, and you can be sure it’ll work. It won’t do any harm to you.’

The younger brother thanked the little man and walked further into the forest, carrying the spear on his shoulder. And quite soon he came across the great beast itself. It charged at him, but he held the spear firmly, and in its blind rage the boar ran right on to the spear with such force that the spear-point cut its heart in two.

The young man hauled the monster up on to his back and set off, intending to take it to the king; but when he reached the edge of the forest, he came to a tavern where people were having a good time drinking and dancing. Among them was his elder brother. That scoundrel hadn’t been brave enough to go into the forest, and reckoning that the boar wasn’t going anywhere else in a hurry, he’d decided to drink some wine to give himself a bit of courage. When he saw his younger brother coming out of the trees with the boar over his shoulder, his wicked envious heart began to tempt him.

He called out: ‘Brother! What a great deed you’ve done! Congratulations! Now come in and sit down, and let’s drink to your victory.’

The young man, in his simplicity, suspected nothing. He told his elder brother about the little man and the black spear with which he’d killed the boar.

They stayed there till evening came, and then they set off together. When it was dark they came to a bridge over a stream.

‘You go first,’ said the elder.

The younger brother went ahead. When he had reached the middle of the bridge, the elder struck him so hard on the head that he fell dead on the spot. The murderer buried him on the bank beneath the bridge, lifted the boar up on his own shoulders, and took it to the king.

‘I killed it,’ he said, ‘but I haven’t seen my poor brother. I hope he’s safe.’

The king kept his word, and the elder brother married the princess. After a little time had gone by and his brother still hadn’t returned, he said, ‘I’m afraid the boar must have ripped him apart. Oh, my poor brother!’

Everyone believed him, and they thought that was the end of the matter.

But nothing is hidden from the eye of God. After many years, a shepherd was driving his sheep across the bridge when he saw something glinting white down on the bank below. He thought he might be able to do something with it, and he went down to pick it up, finding a snow-white bone, which he took home and carved into a mouthpiece for his horn.

But to his amazement, when he blew into it the bone began to sing by itself:

‘Shepherd, blow your horn and play me,

Let my voice be heard once more,

Since my brother chose to slay me,

Bury me and steal the boar.

He did this vile and cruel thing

To wed the daughter of the king.’

‘What a wonderful mouthpiece!’ said the shepherd. ‘It makes my horn sing all by itself. I must take it to the king.’

When he brought it to the king the horn began to sing again, just as before. The king was no fool: he understood at once what must have happened, and he had the earth beneath the bridge dug up. The whole skeleton of the dead man was lying there, all but one bone.

The wicked brother couldn’t deny it. By order of the king, he was sewn into a sack and drowned in the same stream beside which his brother’s body had been lying. As for the younger brother, his bones were laid to rest in a beautiful grave in the churchyard.

***

Tale type:
ATU 780, ‘The Singing Bone’

Source:
a story told to the Grimm brothers by Dortchen Wild

Similar stories:
Alexander Afanasyev: ‘The Miraculous Pipe’ (
Russian Fairy Tales
); Katharine M. Briggs: ‘Binnorie’ (
Folk Tales of Britain
); Italo Calvino: ‘The Peacock Feather’ (
Italian Folktales
)

Take out the story’s only supernatural elements, the little man who gives the younger brother the boar-killing spear and the bone that sings, and this could easily be one of the homely tales in Johann Peter Hebel’s enormously popular anthology
Schatzkästlein des Rheinischen Hausfreundes
(
The Treasure Chest
), published in 1811, a year before the Grimms’ first edition. Hebel’s speciality was tales of everyday life with an amusing or sensational or moral character, and the murder that comes to light by chance figures in more than one of his anecdotes.

But the supernatural character of this tale is important, and widespread. Sometimes the magic instrument that sings the truth is made from a bone, sometimes from a reed, and sometimes it’s a harp made from the victim’s breastbone and hair, as in the British ‘Binnorie’; but the truth always comes out.

NINETEEN

THE DEVIL WITH THE THREE GOLDEN HAIRS

There was once a poor woman who bore a son, and the baby had a caul on his head. That’s a sign of good luck, and when the village fortune-teller heard about it, she prophesied that when he was fourteen years old the boy would marry the king’s daughter.

A few days later the king himself came to the village. He was travelling incognito, so no one recognized him, and when he asked what had been happening, was there any news, what were people talking about in the village, and so on, they told him that a child had been born with a caul. Apparently, they said, that meant he was going to be lucky, and marry the king’s daughter when he was fourteen.

Now the king was a wicked man, and this prophecy didn’t please him at all. He went to the parents and said, ‘My friends, you’ve got a lucky boy there, and I’m a rich man. Here’s the first sign of his luck: entrust your child to me, and I’ll take good care of him.’

At first they refused, but when the stranger offered them a good deal of gold they saw the merit of his proposition, and said, ‘Well, he’s a lucky child, after all, and things are bound to turn out all right for him’; so in the end they agreed, and gave him the child.

The king put the baby in a box and rode away until he came to a deep river. He threw the box in the water, and thought: ‘That’s a good day’s work done. I’ve saved my daughter from an unwelcome suitor.’

Then he rode off home. If he’d stayed to watch he’d have seen that the box didn’t sink, as he’d hoped, but floated like a little boat, and not a drop of water got inside. It floated down the river to within two miles of the capital city, to a spot where there happened to be a mill, and there it got caught in the weir. The miller’s apprentice was fishing there at the time, and he pulled it out with a boathook, thinking that he’d found a great treasure. When he opened the box, though, he was astonished to find a little baby, fresh and rosy-cheeked. Having no use for a baby himself, he took it to the miller and his wife. They were delighted with this little child, because they had no children of their own. ‘God must have given him to us,’ they said.

So they took him in and looked after him. They brought the luck-child up well, and taught him to mind his manners and always be good and honest.

Time went by, and some years later the king happened to be caught in a thunderstorm when he was out hunting, and he sought shelter in that same mill. He asked the miller and his wife if the fine young man he saw was their son.

‘No,’ they said. ‘He’s a foundling. Fourteen years ago he floated to the weir in a box, and our apprentice fished him out.’

The king realized that the boy was none other than the luck-child that he himself had thrown into the water, and he said, ‘My good people, would you let the young fellow take a letter to the queen? I’ll pay him two gold pieces.’

The couple agreed, and told the boy to get ready. Meanwhile the king took some paper and wrote to the queen: ‘As soon as the boy who bears this letter arrives, he must be put to death and buried. This must be done before I come home.’

The boy took the letter and set off, but he soon got lost, and by evening he was wandering in a great forest. In the gathering darkness he saw a single glowing light between the trees. It was the only light to be seen, so he made for it, and before long he found himself outside a little cottage. Inside there was an old woman dozing in front of the fire. She started when she saw him, and said, ‘Where have you sprung from? And where are you going?’

‘I’ve come from the mill,’ he said, ‘and I’m taking a letter to the queen. But I got lost in the forest, and now I’d like to spend the night here, please.’

‘You poor young man,’ said the old woman, ‘you’ve wandered into a robbers’ hideout. They’re out at the moment doing a job, but when they come back they’ll kill you, as sure as eggs.’

‘Let them come,’ said the luck-child, ‘I’m not afraid of robbers. But I’ve got to lie down and sleep, because I’m worn out.’

And he lay down on the bench and fell asleep at once. Soon afterwards the robbers came in, and asked angrily: ‘Who’s this kid lying here?’

‘He’s just an innocent boy,’ said the old woman. ‘He got lost in the woods and I let him lie down because he was so tired. He’s carrying a letter to the queen.’

‘Is he?’ said the robber chief. ‘Let’s have a look at it.’

They took the letter from his pocket and opened it, and carefully spelled out what it said: that the boy should be killed as soon as he delivered the letter.

‘Oh, that’s not right,’ said the chief. ‘That’s a dirty trick.’

Even the robbers, hard-hearted as they were, were moved to pity. The chief took another piece of paper and wrote a new letter, saying that the boy should be married to the king’s daughter as soon as he arrived. They let him stay asleep on the bench till the morning, and when he woke up they gave him the letter and showed him the way to the palace.

And when he arrived there and gave the letter to the queen, sure enough she ordered a magnificent wedding, and the boy was married to the princess. Because he was good-looking and kindly and polite to everyone, she was happy enough about it.

Eventually the king came back, and discovered that the village prophecy had held true, and despite everything the boy was married to his daughter.

‘How can that have happened?’ he said to the queen. ‘Didn’t you get my letter? I said nothing about marriage.’

The queen showed him the letter. The king read it, and saw what had happened. He sent for the boy and said, ‘What d’you mean by this? I didn’t give you this letter. I gave you quite a different one. What’s your explanation, eh?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t explain it,’ the boy replied. ‘I spent the night in the forest, and someone must have changed it when I was asleep.’

‘Well, you needn’t think you’re going to get away with it,’ snarled the king. ‘Whoever marries my daughter will have to travel all the way to hell and bring back the three golden hairs from the head of the Devil.’

‘Oh, I can do that,’ said the boy. ‘I’ll bring back the golden hairs for you; I’m not afraid of the Devil.’

With that he made his farewell and set off. The first place he came to was a big city with a porter at the gate.

‘What’s your trade? And what do you know?’

‘I know everything,’ said the boy, ‘and what I don’t know, I can find out.’

‘Well, you can do us a favour, then. There’s a fountain in the market square that used to gush with wine, and now it doesn’t even give any water. What’s the matter with it?’

‘I’ll find out, I guarantee,’ said the boy. ‘I’ll tell you on my way back.’

He went on and soon came to a town where the watchman asked him the same question: ‘What trade do you follow? And what do you know?’

‘I know everything,’ said the boy, ‘and what I don’t know, I can find out.’

‘Tell me this, then: there’s a tree in the park that used to bear golden apples. But something’s gone wrong and now it won’t even bear any leaves.’

‘Leave it to me,’ said the boy. ‘I’ll tell you on the way back.’

He went on a little further and came to a river where a ferryman was waiting to carry people back and forth.

‘What’s your trade? And what do you know?’

‘I know everything,’ said the boy, ‘and what I don’t know, I can find out.’

‘Well, here’s a question for you. Why do I have to keep on crossing the river without anyone coming to relieve me?’

‘Don’t worry,’ said the boy, ‘I’ll find the answer, sure enough.’

Not long after crossing the river, the boy found the entrance to hell. It was dark and smoky and abominable. The Devil wasn’t at home just then, but sitting in a big armchair reading the paper was the Devil’s grandmother.

‘What do you want?’ she said.

She didn’t look all that evil, so the boy told her what he’d come for.

‘The king said that if I don’t get the three golden hairs from the Devil’s head,’ he said, ‘I won’t be able to stay married to my wife.’

‘That won’t be very easy,’ said the grandmother. ‘If he finds out you’re here, he’ll probably eat you. But you’re a good-looking boy, and I feel sorry for you, so I’ll do my best. First I’ll change you into an ant.’

She did that, and picked him up on her fingertip to make sure he could hear her.

‘Hide in my skirts,’ she said, ‘and I’ll pluck the hairs for you.’

‘There’s another thing,’ said the ant. ‘I need to know the answer to some questions. Why does the fountain in the market square no longer even give water, when it used to flow with wine? Why does the tree in the park that used to give golden apples no longer even produce leaves? And why does the ferryman have to keep on carrying people over the river?’

‘That’s not so easy,’ she said. ‘I can’t promise anything. But keep quiet, and listen very carefully to what he says.’

The ant nodded his tiny head, and she tucked him under her skirts. It was just in time, too, because the Devil came home at that very moment, and started roaring.

‘What is it?’ said his grandmother.

‘Human! I can smell it! Who’s been here? Eh?’

He prowled around the room, lifting up chairs, looking in every corner.

‘For evil’s sake!’ she said. ‘I’ve just tidied the place, can’t you see? You’ll make it all messy again. Sit down and have your supper, and stop making a fuss about nothing.’

‘I can, though,’ the Devil muttered. ‘I can smell it.’

But he sat at the table and gobbled up his supper, and then he lay down and put his head in his grandmother’s lap.

‘Pick the lice out of my hair, Granny,’ he said.

She started to pick through his hair, and presently he fell asleep and started snoring. As soon as she heard that, the old woman got hold of one of the golden hairs, and tweaked it out.

‘
Oww!
’ yelled the Devil, waking up at once. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I had a dream,’ said his granny, carefully putting the golden hair down beside her where he couldn’t see.

‘What dream? What was it about?’

‘A fountain,’ she said. ‘It was in the market square. Years ago it ran with wine, and everyone could help themselves, but now it won’t even give water.’

‘Stupid people,’ muttered the Devil, settling his head on her lap again. ‘All they have to do is dig out the toad under the stone in the fountain. If they kill that, the wine will flow again.’

The grandmother went back to picking out the lice, and once again he began to snore. Searching through his tangled hairs, she found another golden one, and pulled it out.

‘
Ow!
Why d’you keep doing that?’

‘Sorry, sweetie,’ she said. ‘I had another dream, and I didn’t know what I was doing.’

‘Another dream, eh? What was it about this time?’

‘There was a tree in the park, and it didn’t even produce leaves any more. Years ago it used to give golden apples.’

‘They don’t know anything in that town. They should dig around the roots, and they’ll find a mouse gnawing at them. Kill the mouse and they’ll get their golden apples again.’

‘There, there,’ she said. ‘If only I was as clever as you, I wouldn’t wake you up. Go back to sleep now, my pet.’

The Devil shifted about and put his head back in her lap. Presently the snoring began again. She waited a little longer this time, and then nipped out the third golden hair, putting it with the others.

‘
Yeow!
You’re doing it again! What’s the matter with you, you stupid old woman?’

‘There, there,’ she said. ‘It was that cheese I had for supper. It’s making me dream again.’

‘You and your dreams. If you do that again I’ll thump you. What did you dream?’

‘I dreamed about a ferryman. He’s been ferrying people back and forth for years and years, and no one will relieve him.’

‘Huh. Do they know nothing, these people? All he has to do is hand his pole to the next person who wants to cross, and that person will have to take over.’

‘There, there,’ she said, ‘you go back to sleep, my pretty one. I won’t have any more dreams.’

Since she let him be for the rest of the night, the Devil slept well. When he woke up and went out to work the next morning, his grandmother waited till she was sure he was gone and then took out the ant from her skirts and turned him back into the boy.

‘Did you hear all that?’ she said.

‘Yes, every word,’ he said. ‘And did you manage to get the three hairs?’

‘Here you are,’ she said, and handed them over.

Being a polite young man he thanked her very much and went on his way, happy that he’d got everything he needed.

When he came to the river the ferryman said, ‘Well? Did you find out?’

‘Take me across first,’ replied the boy, and when they were at the other side he said, ‘All you have to do is put the pole into the hands of the next person who wants to cross, and you’ll be free.’

He walked on till he came to the city with the barren tree. The porter at the gate was expecting his answer too.

‘Kill the mouse that’s been chewing away at the roots, and it’ll bear golden apples again,’ the boy told him.

The mayor and corporation were so relieved that they rewarded him with two donkeys laden with gold. Leading his donkeys homewards, he stopped at the other city where the fountain had dried up.

‘Dig up the stone that’s in the fountain and kill the toad hiding beneath it,’ he told them.

They did so at once and sure enough the fountain began flowing with wine. They drank to the boy’s health, and rewarded him with another two donkeys laden with gold.

Leading his four donkeys, he travelled home. Everyone was very happy to see him again, especially his wife, and when the king saw the donkeys and their cargo he was delighted.

‘My dear boy!’ he said. ‘How wonderful to see you! And these hairs from the Devil’s head – splendid – put them on the sideboard. But where did you get all this gold?’

‘A ferryman took me across a river. Instead of sand, the bank on the other side is covered in gold – you can just pick up as much as you want. I should take several sacks if I were you.’

The king was intensely greedy, so he set off at once. He hurried all day till he came to the river, and then he beckoned the ferryman impatiently.