The Grimm Reader

by Maria Tatar

  At last he decided to go home to his father. He was sure that his father was no longer angry and that the old man would be glad to see him with the magic table. On the way home, he stopped one evening at an inn that was filled with a large party of travelers. They welcomed him and invited him to sit down with them and share their food; otherwise he might not get anything to eat. “No, no,” said the carpenter, “I don’t want to take your last few morsels. Let me invite you to be my guests.”

  They all started laughing and were sure that he must be joking around. But then he set his little wooden table up in the middle of the room and repeated the words: “Table, set yourself.” Instantly the table was covered with all kinds of food far better than what the innkeeper could have provided, and the fragrant aroma quickly rose up to the noses of the travelers.

  “Help yourselves, dear friends,” the carpenter said, and when the travelers realized what he was saying, they didn’t wait to be asked a second time but pulled out their knives and fell to. They were astonished by the way new platters piled high with food would appear as soon as a dish was empty. The innkeeper watched all of this from a corner of the room, and he didn’t know what to do, but he thought: “I could use a cook like that in my kitchen.”

  The journeyman and his companions had a good time until late at night. Finally they decided to go to bed, and the young carpenter put his magic table against the wall and retired for the night.

  The innkeeper’s thoughts gave him no peace that night, and he remembered that there was an old table in a storeroom that looked just like the magic table. He crept out of bed quietly and switched his table with the magic table.

  The next morning the journeyman paid for his lodgings and loaded the table on his back, never dreaming that it might not be the right one. He set out on his way, and at noon he reached the house of his father, who welcomed him with joy. “Well, my dear son, what trade have you learned?” he asked.

  “Father, I’ve become a carpenter,” he replied.

  “That’s a good trade,” the old man replied. “And what have you brought back from your travels?”

  “Father, the best thing that I’ve brought back is this little table.”

  The tailor examined the table from all sides and said: “That’s not really much of a masterpiece that you’ve got there. It looks to me like a shabby old piece of furniture.”

  “But it’s a magic table,” the son replied. “When I stand it up and tell it to set itself, the finest dishes appear out of thin air, and wine, too, that makes your heart glow. Let’s invite all our friends and relatives. For once, they’ll get a chance to eat and drink their fill, for the little table will give them more than enough to eat.”

  When the guests were all present, the son set up the table in the middle of the room and said: “Table, set yourself!” But nothing happened, and the table stayed as empty as any ordinary table that doesn’t take orders. The poor carpenter realized that someone had switched tables on him, and he was mortified by the fact that he looked just like a liar. All the relatives laughed their heads off, and they had to go back home as hungry and thirsty as when they had arrived. The father took out his tools and went back to being a tailor, and the son found a job with a master carpenter.

  The second son found a miller to whom he apprenticed himself. When his time was up, the master said to him: “Because you worked so hard, I’m going to give you a very special kind of donkey. But he will not draw a cart for you, and he also refuses to carry sacks.”

  “Then what is he good for?” asked the young journeyman.

  “He spits gold,” the miller replied. “If you put a cloth under him and say ‘Bricklebrit,’ then the good animal will spit gold pieces from the front and behind.”

  “That sounds like a good thing,” said the journeyman, and he thanked the miller and went out into the world. Whenever he needed money, all he had to do was say “Bricklebrit” to the animal and it started raining gold pieces. He just had to pick them up. Wherever he went, the best was not too good for him, and the more expensive the better, for his purse was always full.

  After traveling around for a while in the world, the second son thought: “I really should go see my father. Once he sees this gold donkey, his anger will vanish, and he’ll welcome me with open arms.” It so happened that he ended up in the same inn where his brother’s table had been switched. He was leading his donkey by the bridle when the innkeeper offered to take the animal and tie it up. But the young journeyman said: “Don’t go out of your way. I’d like to take my gray jack to the stable and tie him up myself. I want to know exactly where he is.” That struck the innkeeper as odd, and he was sure that anyone who had to look after his donkey couldn’t have much money to spend. But when the stranger reached in his pocket and took out two pieces of gold, telling him to get him something good, the innkeeper’s jaw dropped and he ran off to get the very best fare that money could buy.

  After dinner the traveler asked how much he owed, and the innkeeper, who was eager to chalk up twice what it really cost, asked him for a few more pieces of gold. The second son reached into his pocket, but he had run out of gold pieces.

  “If you just wait a moment, my dear Mr. Innkeeper, I’ll get some more gold pieces.” And he left the room, taking the tablecloth with him. The innkeeper couldn’t figure out what was going on, and he was so curious that he sneaked after him. When he saw that the traveler had bolted the door to the stall, he looked in through a knothole. The stranger spread the tablecloth under the donkey, shouted “Bricklebrit,” and instantly the donkey began to spit pieces of gold from the front and the back until it was raining pieces of gold.

  “Egads!” the innkeeper said. “What a nice way to mint ducats! I wouldn’t mind at all having a moneybag like that.”

  The traveler paid up and retired for the evening. Late at night the innkeeper tiptoed into the stall, removed the master of the treasury, and left another donkey in its place.

  Early the next morning, the second son left with the animal, thinking he had his gold donkey with him. He arrived at his father’s house that afternoon, and the old man was glad to see him again, welcoming him with open arms.

  “Well, my son, what trade have you learned?” the old man asked.

  “I’ve become a miller,” the son replied.

  “What have you brought back home from your travels?”

  “Nothing but a donkey.”

  “There are enough donkeys around here,” the father said. “I wish you had brought back a goat instead.”

  “That may be true,” the son said. “But this is no ordinary donkey. I’ve brought home a gold donkey, and when I say ‘Bricklebrit,’ then the good beast spits out a whole bundle of gold coins. Let’s invite our relatives over. I’ll make them all rich.”

  “That sounds like a great idea to me,” the tailor said. “Now I won’t have to torture myself any longer by being on pins and needles.” And he raced off to invite the relatives over.

  When everyone had gathered in the house, the miller told them to make some room. Then he spread out a cloth and brought the donkey into the room. “Just watch this,” he said and shouted: “Bricklebrit!” But what fell down had nothing to do with gold pieces, and it was plain to see that this animal understood nothing about the art of minting, for not every ass can make money. The poor miller made a long face. He realized that he had been cheated and apologized to his relatives, who went home as poor as they had come. There was no way around it. The old man had to go back to his sewing, and the son hired himself out to a miller.

  The third brother apprenticed himself to a turner, and since that is a trade that requires real art, his training lasted the longest. His brothers wrote and told him how badly they had fared and how, on the nights of their homecomings, an innkeeper had robbed them of their magical gifts. When the turner had finished his apprenticeship and was
about to start traveling, the master turner gave him a sack as a reward for all his hard work: “There’s a club in that sack.”

  “I’ll throw the sack over my shoulder, and it’s bound to come in handy sometime,” the turner said. “But what in the world can I do with that club? All it does is add weight to the sack.”

  “I’ll tell you what you can do with it,” the master turner replied. “If anyone ever threatens to harm you, just say: ‘Club, get out of that sack!’ and the club will jump right out and dance a little jig on their backs so that they won’t be able to move a bone in their bodies for a whole week. And the club won’t let up until you say ‘Club, get back in the sack!’”

  The turner thanked him, slung the sack over his shoulder, and whenever anyone got a little too close or threatened him, he would just say: “Club, get out of that sack!” and the club would jump out and pound the dust out of the chap’s coat or jacket while it was still on his back, without waiting for him to take it off. That all happened in a flash, so that the fellow next in line had his turn before he knew what hit him.

  One evening the young turner arrived at the inn where his two brothers had been swindled. He put his knapsack down on the table in front of him and started to tell about all the fabulous things he had seen in the world. “Yes,” he said, “you can find magic tables, gold donkeys, and the like. They’re all just fine, and I’m not saying anything bad about them, but they’re really nothing compared with the treasure that I earned and that I’ve got right here in my sack.”

  The innkeeper’s ears perked up: “What in the world could that be?” He thought: “The sack must be full of jewels. I really deserve to get those too, for all good things come in threes.”

  At bedtime the turner stretched out on the bench and used his sack as a pillow for his head. When the innkeeper was sure that his guest was fast asleep and that no one else was in the room, he went over and began to tug and pull very carefully at the sack, hoping to get it away and to put another in its place. But the turner had been waiting for him to do just that. The innkeeper was about to give a good hard tug, when the turner cried out: “Club, get out of that sack!” In a flash the little club jumped out, went at the innkeeper, and gave him a sound thrashing. The innkeeper began screaming pitifully, but the louder he screamed, the harder the club beat time on his back, until at last he fell down on the ground. Then the turner said: “Now hand over the magic table and the gold donkey, or the dance will start all over again.” “Oh, no!” said the innkeeper. “I’ll be glad to give you everything, if only you’ll make that little devil crawl back into his sack.” The journeyman answered: “This time I will, but watch out or there’ll be more where that came from.” Then he said: “Club, get back in the sack” and left him in peace.

  The next morning the turner went back home to his father, taking the magic table and the gold donkey with him. The tailor was overjoyed to see him and asked him what he had learned in foreign lands. “Dear Father,” he replied, “I’ve become a turner.”

  “A trade like that requires real art,” the father said. “But what have you brought back from your travels?”

  “A precious object, dear Father,” the son replied. “A club in a sack.”

  “What?” the father cried out. “A club! Hardly worth the effort. You can make something like that out of any tree around.”

  “Not one like this, dear Father. When I say ‘Club, get out of that sack!’ the club jumps out and does a nasty little dance with anyone who’s not nice to me. It doesn’t stop dancing until the fellow’s on the ground, begging for mercy. You see, with this club I managed to recover the magic table and the gold donkey which that scoundrel of an innkeeper took from my brothers. Now go find both of them and invite all our kinfolk. I’m going to wine and dine them and fill their pockets with gold.”

  The old tailor could hardly believe his ears, but he went and invited all the relatives around. The turner put a cloth down in the parlor, ushered in the gold donkey, and said to his brother: “Now, dear brother, go ahead and give him his orders.” The miller said “Bricklebrit,” and instantly, gold pieces fell to the cloth as if it were raining money, and the donkey didn’t stop until everyone had as much as they could carry. (I can see that you wish you had been there too.) Then the turner brought in the table and said: “Dear brother, talk to your table.” As soon as the turner said “Table, set yourself,” the table was set and covered with the most appetizing dishes. Everyone at the home of the good tailor feasted as they had never before feasted, and they all stayed until late at night, enjoying themselves and living it up. The tailor took his needle and thread, his yardstick and flatiron, and locked them up in a cupboard. He lived happily and in luxury with his three sons.

  But whatever became of the goat that made the tailor chase his three sons away? Well, I’ll tell you. She was so ashamed of her bald head that she found a fox’s home and crawled into it. When the fox came back home, a pair of big eyes flashed out at him in the darkness. He got scared and ran away. He met a bear, who saw that the fox had a frantic look on his face and asked: “What’s the matter, Brother Fox, why are you making a face like that?”

  “Oh,” Redback replied, “a ferocious beast is sitting in my shelter, and he glared out at me with fiery eyes.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” the bear said, and he went over to the hole with the fox and peered in. But when he saw those fiery eyes, he too got scared and didn’t want to have anything to do with the beast. Off he went. While fleeing, he met a bee who noticed that he looked upset and asked: “Bear, you look really miserable. What happened to your high spirits?”

  “It’s easy for you to talk,” the bear said. “There’s a ferocious beast with fiery eyes in old Redback’s house, and we just can’t get it out of there.”

  The bee said: “I feel sorry for you, old bear. I’m just a poor pathetic creature whom you never even bother looking at, but I think I can help you.”

  The bee flew into the fox’s hole, landed on the goat’s bald, shaved head, and stuck her so hard that she jumped up and bleated “Mehhh, mehhh,” and ran out into the world like a madwoman. And to this day no one knows where she went.

  THE ELVES

  nce there lived a shoemaker who, through no fault of his own, had become so poor that all he had left was enough leather to make a single pair of shoes. That evening he cut the leather for the shoes and was planning to work on them in the morning. A man with a clear conscience, he lay down quietly in his bed, commended himself to God, and fell asleep. The next day, he said his morning prayers and was about to sit down to his work when he saw that the shoes were finished and laid out on his workbench. He was so astonished that he had no idea what to say. When he took the shoes in his hands to get a closer look at them, he saw that the workmanship was perfect and that there was not a false stitch on them. It was as if the shoes were intended as a masterpiece.

  Before long, a customer came in, and the man liked the shoes so much that he paid more than the usual price, and the shoemaker was now able to purchase the leather for two pairs of shoes. He cut the leather in the evening and was planning to work on them the next morning with renewed energy, but there was no need to do that. When he woke up, they were already finished. Once again he found customers for them, and they gave him so much money that he could now buy the leather for four pairs of shoes. The next morning he discovered four pairs of shoes on his bench, completely finished. And so it continued. Whatever he cut in the evening was finished by the morning, and before long he had a decent income again and had become a prosperous man.

  Now it happened one evening, not long before Christmas, that the man was cutting up the leather for the shoes, and before retiring, he said to his wife: “Suppose we stay up tonight and try to find out who is giving us a hand?”

  The wife thought it was a good idea, and she lit a candle. Then they hid behind some clothes that were hanging
in a corner of the room and kept a lookout. At midnight, two tiny little naked men sat down at the workbench, took all the work that had been cut out, and began to punch, sew, and hammer so nimbly and skillfully with their little fingers that the shoemaker just stared in amazement. They didn’t stop until they were completely finished with everything and the shoes were on the bench. Then they ran off in a flash.

  The next morning the shoemaker’s wife said: “Those little fellows have made us rich. We have to find a way to show our gratitude. They must get cold running around with nothing at all to wear. How about if I sew some little shirts, coats, vests, and breeches for them? And I can also knit a pair of stockings for each of them, and you can make them a pair of shoes.”

  The shoemaker said: “That sounds like a good idea to me.” In the evening, when they had finished everything, they put the presents on the table where the shoemaker usually put the cut leather, and then they hid in order to see how the little men would react. At midnight they scampered in and were about to start their work when they discovered the cute little articles of clothing in place of the cut-out leather. At first they were puzzled, but then they seemed elated. They slipped quickly into their beautiful clothes, smoothed them down, and sang a little song:

  “Don’t we look just trim and spruce?

  Here’s to pleasure! We’re footloose!”

  They skipped, danced, and jumped over the chairs and benches. And finally they danced out the door and were never seen again. The shoemaker continued to prosper for the remainder of his life, and he succeeded whenever he tried his hand at anything.

  THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM

  nce upon a time there lived a miller who had a beautiful daughter. He wanted to be sure that she was provided for and that she married well once she was grown up. He thought: “When the right kind of man comes along and asks for her hand, I shall give her to him.”