How lucky the master is, and how smoothly everything runs in his house, when he has a wise servant who listens to his orders carefully but doesn’t carry them out, choosing instead to trust to his own ideas. Clever Hans was a type like this and was once sent out by his master to find a lost cow. He was gone for a very long time, and the master thought, ‘Good old Hans doesn’t do things by halves.’ But when he didn’t come back at all, the master was worried that something bad might have happened to Hans. He set out himself to look for him.
He had to look for ages, but at last he caught sight of the lad running up and down a large field. ‘There you are, Hans,’ he said when he caught up with him. ‘Have you found the cow which I sent you to fetch?’
Hans answered, ‘No, master, I’ve not found the cow. But I’ve not bothered looking for it either.’
‘Then what have you been looking for, Hans?’
‘Something much better, and I’ve found it too!’
‘What is that, Hans?’
‘Three blackbirds,’ answered Hans.
‘And where are they?’
‘I can see one of them, I can hear the other, and I’m running after the third,’ said Wise Hans.
Let this be a lesson for you. Don’t bother yourself with your bosses or their orders. Just do whatever pops into your head, whenever you please, and then you’ll be acting just as wisely as Clever Hans. Agreed?
The Musicians of Bremen
A man had a donkey who had worked hard for years carrying heavy sacks of corn to the mill. But the donkey’s strength had gone and he was getting more and more unfit for the job. The man was thinking how he could get shut of him and save the expense of feeding him. But the donkey got wind of this and ran away. He set off towards Bremen and thought he might try his luck at being a town musician. After a while on the road, he came across a hound lying by the roadside, panting away as though he’d run very hard. So the donkey said, ‘Hello, old Hound-Dog, what are you gasping like that for?’
The dog answered him, ‘Och, I’m not getting any younger and get weaker every day so I can’t hunt any more. My master was going to kill me, so I ran away. But how shall I make my living now?’ The donkey said, ‘I’ll tell you what. I’m on my way to Bremen to become a town musician. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll play the lute and you can bang away at the kettle-drum!’
The hound was chuffed with this idea and on they went.
Before long, they found a cat slumped by the roadside with a face like three wet Wednesdays.
‘Now then, old Lick-Whiskers, what makes you look so miserable?’
The cat answered him, ‘How else should I look with my problems? Just because I’m getting on and my teeth are worn to stumps and I prefer to sit dreaming by the fire rather than run about after mice, my mistress wants to drown me. So I’ve run away. But now, who’s to tell me what to do and where to go?’
‘Come with us to Bremen to be a town musician. You’re well known for your caterwauling music of the night!’
The cat was impressed with this plan and on the three of them went.
Quite soon our three runaways came to a farm and there on the gate perched a cockerel crowing like mad. The donkey called out, ‘That terrible crowing’s going right through us. What on earth’s up?’
The cock explained, ‘I’m forecasting fine weather, because today’s washday in Heaven and Our Lady wants to dry Baby Jesus’s tiny shirts. But they’ve got guests coming here for dinner tomorrow, and that callous, hard-hearted housekeeper has told cook to cook me. I’ve to have my head chopped off tonight, so I’m having a good crow while l can.’
‘Outrageous, Redcomb! Come instead with us to Bremen. You’ll be better off there than in a casserole. With that voice of yours and our rhythm, we’re going to make music the like of which has never been heard!’
The cock thought this seemed an excellent plan and all four of them went on their way together.
Bremen town was too far to reach in a day, though, and in the evening they came to a forest where they decided to spend the night. The donkey and the dog lay down under a large tree, the cat settled herself in the branches, and the cock flew right to the top and perched there. Before he went to sleep, he looked north, south, east and west and thought he spied a quaver of light in the distance. So he called down to his fellow musicians that there must be a house nearby for him to see a light. The donkey said, ‘Then let’s go and find it. The accommodation here’s appalling.’ The hound said that he wouldn’t turn up his nose at a plate of bones with some meat on them.
So they set off in the direction of the light, which got bigger and brighter and more attractive, until they came to a well-lit house, where a band of robbers lived. The donkey, who was the biggest, sneaked up to the window and peeped in.
‘What can you see, old Greymule?’ asked the cock.
‘What can I see! Only a table groaning with wonderful things to eat and drink and a band of robbers sat round it filling their boots!’
‘Those words are music to my ears! That’s the kind of thing we’re after,’ said the cock.
‘Yes, yes! If only we were inside!’
So the four famished fugitives put their furry or feathery heads together to decide how to get rid of the robbers. At last they thought of a plan. Old Greymule was to stand on his hind legs with his forefeet on the window; Old Hound-Dog was to jump on the donkey’s back; Old Lick-Whiskers was to climb on the back of the dog; and lastly Redcomb was to fly up and perch on the head of the cat, like a hat.
When they’d finally managed all this, the donkey gave a signal, and they launched into their music. The donkey bray-hay-hayed. The cat made mew-mew-music. The hound went wopbopawoofwoofbowwowwow. And the cock gave a great big doody-doodle-doo. For an encore, they all crashed into the room through the window, smashing the glass and still singing. At this horrifying din, the robbers jumped up and thought that a banshee had come screaming into the house. The robbers were so terrified for their lives that they fled, freaked, into the forest. At this our four friends sat down at the table, well pleased with what was left, and feasted as though they wouldn’t see food and drink for a fortnight.
When our four musicians had finished their meal, they put out the light and found somewhere comfortable to sleep, each according to his needs and nature. The donkey dossed down in the dung heap in the yard. The hound hunched down behind the door. The cat curled up near the ashes on the hearth. And the cock flapped up to roost in the rafters. They were all so tired after their long journey that they soon fell fast asleep.
The robbers were watching the house from a safe distance. When midnight had passed, and they saw that the light was out and all was quiet, their captain said, ‘Well, now. Perhaps we shouldn’t have let ourselves be frightened off so easily.’ He ordered one of his men to go back to the house and investigate.
The man found everything as silent and dark as a closed piano lid, as hushed as drowned bagpipes. He fetched a candle from the kitchen. He thought that the burning red eyes of the cat were glowing coals and stuck his match in them to light it. But the cat didn’t appreciate the humour of this and flew in his face, scratching and spitting. The man was terrified out of his wits and ran for the back door – but he trod on the dog who leaped up and bit him savagely on the leg. He fled for his life into the yard and was about to leap over the dung heap when he received a whopping kick in the arse from the donkey. All this commotion had wakened the cock, who began to crow on his perch. ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!’
The robber ran as fast as he could back to his mates and said to the captain, ‘Oh my God! There’s a horrible witch in the house. I felt her ratty breath and her long claws on my face. Oh God! There’s a man with a knife by the back door who stabbed me in the leg. Oh! There’s a black monster in the yard who beat me with a wooden club. God! And to top it all, there’s a judge on the roof and he called out, “That’s the crook that’ll do! The crook that’ll do!” So I got out of there as fast
as I could.’
After that, the robbers didn’t dare go back to the house. But the four talented members of the Bremen Town Band liked the house so much that they just stayed on. And they’re still there.
This story has been told for yonks. The mouth of the last person to tell this tale still has a warm tongue in it – as you can see.
The Golden Key
It was winter, and deep snow covered the ground, when a poor boy was made to go out on a sledge to fetch wood. When he had gathered enough, and packed it all, he thought that before he went home he would light a fire to warm his frozen limbs. So he scraped away the snow and as he was making a clear space he found a tiny golden key. As soon as he picked it up he thought that where there was a key there must also be a lock. So he dug in the ground and discovered a small iron chest. He thought, ‘If the key only fits there are bound to be precious treasures in this little box.’ He searched everywhere but couldn’t find a keyhole. At last he found one which was so small that it could hardly be seen. He tried the key in the lock and it fitted perfectly. Then he turned the key round once. And now we must wait until he has quite finished unlocking it and then we shall find out what wonderful things were hidden in that box …
Rumpelstiltskin
There was a miller once who was very poor but he had one daughter more beautiful than any treasure. It happened one day that he came to speak to the King and to make himself look special he said, ‘I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold.’ Now this King was very fond of gold, so he said to the miller, ‘That’s a talent that would please me hugely. If your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her to my palace tomorrow and I’ll put her to the test.’
When the girl was brought to him, he led her to a room that was full of straw, gave her a spinning-wheel and said, ‘Set to work. You have all night ahead of you. But if you haven’t spun all this straw into gold by dawn, you must die.’ Then he locked the door with his own hands and left her there alone.
The poor miller’s daughter sat there without a clue what to do. She had no idea how to spin straw into gold and she grew more and more frightened and started to cry.
Suddenly the door opened and in came a little man who said, ‘Good evening, Mistress Miller, why are you crying?’
‘Oh, I have to spin this straw into gold and I don’t know how to do it.’
‘What will you give me if I do it for you?’
‘My necklace.’
‘Done.’
The little man took the necklace, squatted down before the spinning-wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr! Three turns and the bobbin was full. And so he went on all night and at sunrise all the bobbins were full of gold.
First thing in the morning, in came the King and when he saw all the gold he was amazed and delighted. But the gold-greed grew in his heart and he had the miller’s daughter taken to an even bigger room filled up with straw and told her to spin the lot into gold if she valued her life. She really didn’t know what to do and was crying when the door opened. In stepped the little man again saying, ‘What will you give me if I spin all this straw into gold?’
‘The ring from my finger.’
So the little man took the ring and whirred away at the wheel all the long dark night and by dawn each dull strand of straw was glistening gold. The King was beside himself with pleasure at the treasure, but his desire for gold still wasn’t satisfied. He took the miller’s daughter to an even larger room full of straw and told her, ‘You must spin all of this into gold tonight and if you succeed you shall be my wife.’ And the King said to himself, ‘She might only be the daughter of a miller, but I won’t find a richer woman anywhere.’
As soon as the girl was alone, the little man appeared for the third time and said, ‘What will you give me this time if I spin the straw into gold for you?’
‘I have nothing left to give.’
‘Then you must promise to give me the first child you have after you are Queen.’
‘Who knows what the future holds,’ thought the girl. And as she had no choice, she gave her word to the little man. At once he started to spin until all the straw was gold.
When the King arrived in the morning and saw everything just as he wished, he held the wedding at once and the miller’s beautiful daughter became a Queen.
After a year she brought a gorgeous golden child into the world and thought no more of the little man. But one day he stepped suddenly into her room and said, ‘Now give me what you promised.’
The Queen was truly horrified and offered him all the gold and riches of the kingdom if he would only leave the child. But the little man said, ‘No, I’d rather have a living child than all the treasure in the world.’ At this, the Queen began to sob so bitterly that the little man took pity on her and said, ‘I’ll give you three days. If you can find out my name by then, you can keep your child.’
The Queen sat up all night, searching her brains for his name like someone sieving for gold. She went through every single name she could think of. She sent out a messenger to ask everywhere in the land for all the names that could be found. On the next day, when the little man came, she recited the whole alphabet of names that she’d learnt, starting with Balthasar, Casper, Melchior … But to each one the little man said, ‘That isn’t my name.’
On the second day, she sent servants all round the neighbourhood to find more names and she tried all the strange and unusual ones on the little man. ‘Perhaps you’re called Shortribs or Sheepshanks or Lacelegs.’ But he always said, ‘That isn’t my name.’ On the third day, the messenger came back and said, ‘I haven’t managed to find a single new name, but as I approached a high mountain at the end of the forest, the place where fox and hare bid each other goodnight, I saw a small hut. There was a fire burning outside it and round the fire danced an absurd little man. He hopped on one leg and bawled:
‘Bake today! Tomorrow brew!
Then I’ll take the young Queen’s child!
She will cry and wish she knew
That RUMPELSTILTSKIN’s how I’m styled!’
You may imagine how overjoyed the Queen was when she heard the name. And when soon afterwards the little man stalked in and demanded, ‘Well, Mistress Queen, what is my name?’, she started by saying, ‘Is it Jacob?’ ‘No.’ ‘Is it Wilhelm?’ ‘No.’ ‘Is it Grimm?’ ‘No.’ ‘Perhaps your name is Rumpelstiltskin?’ ‘The devil has told you! The devil has told you!’ shrieked the little man. In his fury he stamped his right foot so hard on the ground that it went right in up to his waist. And then in a rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with the very same hands that had spun the straw into gold – that he tore himself in two. Tore. Himself. In. Two.
Fair Katrinelje
‘Good day, Father Hollowtree.’ ‘Thank you, Pif Paf Poltrie.’ ‘May I marry your daughter?’ ‘Oh yes, if Mother Milkmoo, Brother Proudclogs, Sister Makecheese and the fair Katrinelje are willing, you can marry her.’
‘Then where is Mother Milkmoo?’
‘She’s in the barn a-milking the coo.’
‘Good day, Mother Milkmoo.’ ‘Thank you, Pif Paf Poltrie.’ ‘May I marry your daughter?’ ‘Oh yes, if Father Hollowtree, Brother Proudclogs, Sister Makecheese and the fair Katrinelje are willing, you can marry her.’
‘Then where is Brother Proudclogs?’
‘He’s in the woodshed, a-chopping logs.’
‘Good day, Brother Proudclogs.’ ‘Thank you, Pif Paf Poltrie.’ ‘May I marry your sister?’ ‘Oh yes, if Father Hollowtree, Mother Milkmoo, Sister Makecheese and the fair Katrinelje are willing, you can marry her.’
‘Then where is Sister Makecheese?’
‘She’s in the kitchen a-shelling peas.’
‘Good day, Sister Makecheese.’ ‘Thank you, Pif Paf Poltrie.’ ‘May I marry your sister?’ ‘Oh yes, if Father Hollowtree, Mother Milkmoo, Brother Proudclogs and the fair Katrinelje are willing, you can marry her.’
‘Then where is the fair Katrinelje?’
‘She’s a-
counting her pennies in the parlour.’
‘Good day, fair Katrinelje.’ ‘Thank you, Pif Paf Poltrie.’ ‘Will you marry me?’ ‘Oh yes, if Father Hollowtree, Mother Milkmoo, Brother Proudclogs and Sister Make-cheese are willing, then you can have me.’
‘Fair Katrinelje, how much dowry do you have?’
‘Fourteen pennies in hard cash, two-and-a-half pennies owing to me, half a pound of dried fruits, a quarter of roots and two ounces of shoots.
‘All these things and more are mine.
‘Don’t you think my dowry’s fine?’
‘Pif Paf Poltrie, what is your trade? Are you a tailor?’
‘Even better.’
‘A cobbler?’
‘Even better.’
‘A ploughman?’
‘Even better.’
‘A joiner?’
‘Even better.’
‘A blacksmith?’
‘Even better’
‘A miller?’
‘Even better.
‘Perhaps you’re a broom-maker.’
‘Yes! So I am! You clever maid. And isn’t that a useful trade?’
Brother Scamp
Once there was a great war and when it was over many soldiers were discharged. One of these was Brother Scamp. He was given one loaf of ammunition-bread and four shillings and sent on his way. St Peter, however, had disguised himself as a beggarman and was sitting by the roadside. When Brother Scamp came along, he begged for charity. Brother Scamp answered him, ‘Dear beggarman, what am I to give you? I have been a soldier, but on my dismissal I was given only this loaf of ammunition-bread and four shillings. Once they’ve gone, I shall have to beg myself. Even so, I’ll give you something.’ Then Brother Scamp divided his loaf into four parts, gave one to St Peter, and gave him a shilling as well.
Faery Tales Page 17
