“Where’s my son?” the father asked again.
“Oh,” said the mother, “he went off to the country to visit his mother’s great uncle. He plans to stay there a while.”
“What’s he going to do there? He didn’t even say good-bye to me.”
“Well, he really wanted to go, and he asked if he could stay for six weeks. They’ll take good care of him.”
“Oh, that makes me so sad,” said the husband. “It’s not right. He should have stayed and said his farewells.”
Then he began eating and said: “Little Marlene, why are you crying? Your brother will be back soon.” Then he said: “Oh, wife, this stew tastes so good! Give me some more.”
The more he ate the more he wanted. “Give me some more,” he said. “No one else may have any. Somehow I feel as if it’s all mine.”
He kept eating, and he tossed the bones under the table until he had finished it all. Meanwhile, Little Marlene went to her dresser and took out her best silk kerchief. She picked up all the bones from beneath the table, tied them up in her silk kerchief, and carried them outside. Then she wept bitter tears. She laid the bones out on the green grass under the juniper tree. Once she had put them down, she suddenly felt much better and stopped crying. The juniper tree began stirring. Its branches parted and joined back together again as though it were clapping its hands for joy. A mist arose from the tree, and in the middle of the mist burned a flame, and from the flame a beautiful bird emerged and began singing gloriously. It soared up in the air, and then it vanished. The tree was as it had been before, but the kerchief with the bones was gone. Little Marlene felt just as happy and relieved as if her brother were still alive. She returned home filled with joy and sat down at the table to eat.
Meanwhile the bird flew away, landed on a perch at a goldsmith’s house, and began singing:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Little Marlene,
Gathered up my bones,
Tied them up in silk,
And put them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird I am!”
The goldsmith was sitting in his shop, making a chain of gold. He heard the bird singing on his roof and found its song very beautiful. He stood up and, when he walked across the threshold, one of his slippers came off. Still, he kept right on going out into the middle of the street, wearing one sock and one slipper. He also had on his apron, and in one hand he had the gold chain, in the other his pliers. The sun was shining brightly on the street. He stopped to look at the bird and said: “Bird, you sing so beautifully. Sing me that song again.”
“No,” said the bird. “I never sing the second time for nothing. Give me that golden chain, and I’ll sing for you again.”
“Here,” said the goldsmith. “Here’s the golden chain. Now sing the song again.”
The bird came flying down. Taking the golden chain in its right claw, it landed on a perch in front of the goldsmith and began singing:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Little Marlene,
Gathered up my bones,
Tied them up in silk,
And put them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird I am!”
Then the bird flew off to a shoemaker’s house, perched on the roof, and sang:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Little Marlene,
Gathered up my bones,
Tied them up in silk,
And put them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird I am!”
When the shoemaker heard the song, he ran out the door in his shirtsleeves and looked up at the roof. He had to put his hand over his eyes to keep the sun from blinding him. “Bird,” he said, “you sing so beautifully.” Then he called into the house: “Wife, come out here for a moment. There’s a bird up there. See it? How beautifully it sings!”
He called his daughter and her children, along with apprentices, a hired hand, and a maid. They all came running out into the street to look at the bird and see how beautiful it was. It had red and green feathers, and around its neck was a band of pure gold, and the eyes in its head sparkled like stars.
“Bird,” said the shoemaker, “sing that song again.”
“No,” said the bird, “I never sing the second time for nothing. You have to give me something.”
“Wife,” said the man, “go up to the attic. On the top shelf you’ll find a pair of red shoes. Get them for me.”
His wife went and fetched the shoes.
“Here,” said the man. “Now sing that song again.”
The bird came flying down. Taking the shoes in its left claw, it flew back up on the roof and sang:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Little Marlene,
Gathered up my bones,
Tied them up in silk,
And put them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird I am!”
When the bird had finished the song, it flew away. It had the chain in its right claw and the shoes in its left, and it flew far away to a mill. The mill went “clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack.” Inside the mill sat twenty of the miller’s men, hewing a stone, “hick hack hick hack hick hack.” And the mill kept going “clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack.” And so the bird went and perched on a linden tree outside the mill and sang:
“My mother, she slew me,”
and one of the men stopped working,
“My father, he ate me,”
and two more stopped working and listened,
“My sister, Little Marlene,”
then four men stopped working,
“Gathered up my bones,
Tied them up in silk,”
now only eight kept hewing,
“And put them under …”
now only five,
“… the juniper tree.”
now only one.
“Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird I am!”
The last one stopped to listen to the final words. “Bird,” he said, “you sing so beautifully! Let me hear the whole thing too. Sing that song again.”
“I never sing the second time for nothing. If you give me the millstone, I’ll sing the song again.”
“If it belonged to me alone,” he said, “I would give it to you.”
“If the bird sings again,” the others said, “it can have the millstone.”
Then the bird swooped down, and the miller’s men, all twenty of them, set the beam to and raised up the stone. “Heave-ho-hup, heave-ho-hup, heave-ho-hup.” And the bird stuck its neck through the hole, put the stone on as if it were a collar, flew back to the tree, and sang:
“My mother, she slew me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister, Little Marlene,
Gathered up my bones,
Tied them up in silk,
And put them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird I am!”
When the bird had finished its song, it spread its wings. In its right claw was the chain, in its left the shoes, and round its neck was the millstone. Then it flew away, far away to the house of its father.
The father, mother, and Little Marlene were sitting at the table in the parlor, and the father said: “How happy I feel! My heart feels so easy.”
“Not me,” said the mother. “I feel frightened. It feels like a big storm is brewing.”
Meanwhile, Little Marlene just sat there weeping. The bird flew up into the air and, when it landed on the roof, the father said: “How happy I’m feeling. And outside the sun is shining so brightly! I feel as if I’m about to see an old friend again.”
“I don’t,” said the woman. “I’m so frightened that my teeth are chattering, and I feel as if fire is running through
my veins.”
She tore at her bodice to loosen it, while little Marlene sat there weeping. The girl held her apron up to her eyes and wept so hard that it was completely soaked with tears. The bird swooped down to the juniper tree, perched on a branch, and sang:
“My mother, she slew me …”
The mother stopped up her ears and closed her eyes, for she didn’t want to see or hear anything. But the roaring in her ears was like the wildest of storms, and her eyes burned and flashed like lightning.
“My father, he ate me …”
“Oh, Mother,” said the man, “there’s a beautiful bird out there, and it’s singing so gloriously. The sun is shining so warmly, and the air smells like cinnamon.”
“My sister, Little Marlene …”
Little Marlene put her head in her lap and just kept crying and crying. But the husband said: “I’m going outside. I have to see this bird close up.”
“Oh, don’t go,” said the wife. “It feels as if the whole house is shaking and about to go up in flames!”
But the husband went out and looked at the bird.
“Gathered up my bones,
Tied them up in silk,
And put them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird I am!”
After finishing its song, the bird dropped the golden chain, and it fell right around the man’s neck, fitting him perfectly. He went inside and said: “Just see what a fine bird is out there! It gave me this beautiful golden chain, as beautiful as it is.”
But the woman was so terrified that she fell down flat on the floor, and the cap she was wearing flew off her head. And the bird sang once again:
“My mother, she slew me …”
“Oh, if only I were a thousand feet under the ground so that I wouldn’t have to hear this!”
“My father, he ate me …”
Then the woman fell down again as if dead.
“My sister, Little Marlene …”
“Oh,” said Little Marlene, “I want to go outside and see if the bird will give me something too.” And she went out.
“Gathered up my bones,
Tied them up in silk,”
And the bird tossed her the shoes.
“And put them under the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet, what a fine bird I am!”
Little Marlene felt lighthearted and happy. She put on the new red shoes and came dancing and skipping into the house.
“Oh,” she said, “I was so sad when I went out, and now I feel so cheerful. What a fine bird is out there. It gave me a pair of red shoes.”
The woman jumped to her feet and her hair stood straight on end like tongues of flame. “I have a feeling that the world is coming to an end. Maybe I’d feel better if I went outside.”
As she went out the door, bam! the bird dropped the millstone on her head and crushed her to death. The father and Little Marlene heard the crash and went outside. Smoke, flames, and fire were rising up from the spot, and when they vanished, little brother was standing there. He took his father and Little Marlene by the hand, and the three of them were overjoyed. Then they went into the house, sat down at the table, and dined.
* * *
† Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm, “Von dem Machandelboom,” in Kinder- und Hausmärchen, 7th ed. (Berlin: Dieterich, 1857; first published: Berlin: Realschulbuchhandlung, 1812). Translated for the first edition of this Norton Critical Edition by Maria Tatar. Copyright © 1999 by Maria Tatar.
JOSEPH JACOBS
The Rose-Tree†
There was once upon a time a good man who had two children: a girl by a first wife, and a boy by the second. The girl was as white as milk, and her lips were like cherries. Her hair was like golden silk, and it hung to the ground. Her brother loved her dearly, but her wicked stepmother hated her. “Child,” said the stepmother one day, “go to the grocer’s shop and buy me a pound of candles.” She gave her the money; and the little girl went, bought the candles, and started on her return. There was a stile to cross. She put down the candles whilst she got over the stile. Up came a dog and ran off with the candles.
She went back to the grocer’s, and she got a second bunch. She came to the stile, set down the candles, and proceeded to climb over. Up came the dog and ran off with the candles.
She went again to the grocer’s, and she got a third bunch; and just the same happened. Then she came to her stepmother crying, for she had spent all the money and had lost three bunches of candles.
The stepmother was angry, but she pretended not to mind the loss. She said to the child: “Come, lay your head on my lap that I may comb your hair.” So the little one laid her head in the woman’s lap, who proceeded to comb the yellow silken hair. And when she combed, the hair fell over her knees, and rolled right down to the ground.
Then the stepmother hated her more for the beauty of her hair; so she said to her, “I cannot part your hair on my knee, fetch a billet of wood.” So she fetched it. Then said the stepmother, “I cannot part your hair with a comb, fetch me an axe.” So she fetched it.
“Now,” said the wicked woman, “lay your head down on the billet whilst I part your hair.”
Well! she laid down her little golden head without fear; and whist! down came the axe, and it was off. So the mother wiped the axe and laughed.
Then she took the heart and liver of the little girl, and she stewed them and brought them into the house for supper. The husband tasted them and shook his head. He said they tasted very strangely. She gave some to the little boy, but he would not eat. She tried to force him, but he refused, and ran out into the garden, and took up his little sister, and put her in a box, and buried the box under a rose-tree; and every day he went to the tree and wept, till his tears ran down on the box.
One day the rose-tree flowered. It was spring, and there among the flowers was a white bird; and it sang, and sang, and sang like an angel out of heaven. Away it flew, and it went to a cobbler’s shop, and perched itself on a tree hard by; and thus it sang:
“My wicked mother slew me,
My dear father ate me,
My little brother whom I love
Sits below, and I sing above
Stick, stock, stone dead.”
“Sing again that beautiful song,” said the shoemaker. “If you will first give me those little red shoes you are making.” The cobbler gave the shoes, and the bird sang the song; then flew to a tree in front of the watchmaker’s, and sang:
“My wicked mother slew me
My dear father ate me,
My little brother whom I love
Sits below, and I sing above
Stick, stock, stone dead.”
“Oh, the beautiful song! sing it again, sweet bird,” said the watchmaker. “If you will give me first that gold watch and chain in your hand.” The jeweler gave the watch and chain. The bird took it in one foot, the shoes in the other, and, after having repeated the song, flew away to where three millers were picking a millstone. The bird perched on a tree and sang:
“My wicked mother slew me,
My dear father ate me,
My little brother whom I love
Sits below, and I sing above
Stick!”
Then one of the men put down his tool and looked up from his work,
“Stock!”
Then the second miller’s man laid aside his tool and looked up,
“Stone!”
Then the third miller’s man laid down his tool and looked up,
“Dead!”
Then all three cried out with one voice: “Oh, what a beautiful song! Sing it, sweet bird, again.” “If you will put the millstone round my neck,” said the bird. The men did what the bird wanted and away to the tree it flew with the millstone round its neck, the red shoes in one foot, and the gold watch and chain in the other. It sang the song and then flew home. It rattled the millstone against the eaves of the house, and the stepmother said: “It thunders.” Then the little boy ran out to se
e the thunder, and down dropped the red shoes at his feet. It rattled the millstone against the eaves of the house once more, and the stepmother said again: “It thunders.” Then the father ran out and down fell the chain about his neck.
In ran father and son, laughing and saying, “See, what fine things the thunder has brought us!” Then the bird rattled the millstone against the eaves of the house a third time; and the stepmother said: “It thunders again; perhaps the thunder has brought something for me,” and she ran out; but the moment she stepped outside the door, down fell the millstone on her head; and so she died.
* * *
† Joseph Jacobs, “The Rose-Tree,” in English Fairy Tales (London: David Nutt, 1890).
The Singing Bones†
Once upon a time there lived a man and a woman who had twenty-five children. They were very poor; the man was good, the woman was bad. Every day when the husband returned from his work the wife served his dinner, but always meat without bones.
“How is it that this meat has no bones?”
“Because bones are heavy, and meat is cheaper without bones. They give more for the money.”
The husband ate, and said nothing.
“How is it you don’t eat meat?”
“You forget that I have no teeth. How do you expect me to eat meat without teeth?”
“That is true,” said the husband, and he said nothing more, because he was afraid to grieve his wife, who was as wicked as she was ugly.
When you have twenty-five children you cannot think of them all the time, and you do not notice if one or two are missing. One day, after his dinner, the husband asked for his children. When they were by him he counted them, and found only fifteen. He asked his wife where were the ten others. She answered that they were at their grandmother’s, and every day she would send one more for them to get a change of air. That was true, every day there was one that was missing.
One day the husband was at the threshold of his house, in front of a large stone which was there. He was thinking of his children, and he wanted to go and get them at their grandmother’s when he heard voices that were saying:
The Classic Fairy Tales_Norton Critical Edition Page 38
