The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 2 (51 page)

“Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you sing!” Then he called through the door to his wife: “Wife, come out; here is a bird, come and look at it and hear how beautifully it sings.” Then he called his daughter and the children, then the apprentices, girls and boys, and they all ran up the street to look at the bird, and saw how splendid it was with its red and green feathers, and its neck like burnished gold, and eyes like two bright stars in its head.

“Bird,” said the shoemaker, “sing me that song again.”

“Nay,” answered the bird, “I do not sing twice for nothing; you must give me something.”

“Wife,” said the man, “go into the garret; on the upper shelf you will see a pair of red shoes; bring them to me.” The wife went in and fetched the shoes.

“There, bird,” said the shoemaker, “now sing me that song again.”

The bird flew down and took the red shoes in his left claw, and then he went back to the roof and sang:

“My mother killed her little son;

My father grieved when I was gone;

My sister loved me best of all;

She laid her kerchief over me,

And took my bones that they might lie

Underneath the juniper-tree

Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”

When he had finished, he flew away. He had the chain in his right claw and the shoes in his left, and he flew right away to a mill, and the mill went “Click clack, click clack, click clack.” Inside the mill were twenty of the miller’s men hewing a stone, and as they went “Hick hack, hick hack, hick hack,” the mill went “Click clack, click clack, click clack.”

The bird settled on a lime-tree in front of the mill and sang:

“My mother killed her little son;

then one of the men left off,

My father grieved when I was gone;

two more men left off and listened,

My sister loved me best of all;

then four more left off,

She laid her kerchief over me,   And took my bones that they might lie

now there were only eight at work,

Underneath

And now only five,

the juniper-tree.

and now only one,

Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”

Then he looked up and the last one had left off work.

“Bird,” he said, “what a beautiful song that is you sing! Let me hear it too; sing it again.”

“Nay,” answered the bird, “I do not sing twice for nothing; give me that millstone, and I will sing it again.”

“If it belonged to me alone,” said the man, “you should have it.”

“Yes, yes,” said the others: “if he will sing again, he can have it.”

The bird came down, and all the twenty millers set to and lifted up the stone with a beam; then the bird put his head through the hole and took the stone round his neck like a collar, and flew back with it to the tree and sang:

“My mother killed her little son;

My father grieved when I was gone;

My sister loved me best of all;

She laid her kerchief over me,

And took my bones that they might lie

Underneath the juniper-tree

Kywitt, Kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I!”

And when he had finished his song, he spread his wings, and with the chain in his right claw, the shoes in his left, and the millstone round his neck, he flew right away to his father’s house.

The father, the mother, and little Marleen were having their dinner.

“How lighthearted I feel,” said the father, “so pleased and cheerful.”

“And I,” said the mother, “I feel so uneasy, as if a heavy thunderstorm were coming.”

But little Marleen sat and wept and wept.

Then the bird came flying towards the house and settled on the roof.

“I do feel so happy,” said the father, “and how beautifully the sun shines; I feel just as if I were going to see an old friend again.”

“Ah!” said the wife, “and I am so full of distress and uneasiness that my teeth chatter, and I feel as if there were a fire in my veins,” and she tore open her dress; and all the while little Marleen sat in the corner and wept, and the plate on her knees was wet with her tears.

The bird now flew to the juniper-tree and began singing:

“My mother killed her little son …”

The mother shut her eyes and her ears, that she might see and hear nothing, but there was a roaring sound in her ears like that of a violent storm, and in her eyes a burning and flashing like lightning.

“My father grieved when I was gone …”

“Look, mother,” said the man, “at the beautiful bird that is singing so magnificently; and how warm and bright the sun is, and what a delicious scent of spice in the air!”

“My sister loved me best of all …”

Then little Marleen laid her head down on her knees and sobbed.

“I must go outside and see the bird nearer,” said the man.

“Ah, do not go!” cried the wife. “I feel as if the whole house were in flames!”

But the man went out and looked at the bird.

“She laid her kerchief over me … And took my bones that they might lie … Underneath the juniper-tree … Kywitt, Kywitt … what a beautiful bird am I!”

With that the bird let fall the gold chain, and it fell just round the man’s neck, so that it fitted him exactly.

He went inside, and said, “See, what a splendid bird that is; he has given me this beautiful gold chain, and looks so beautiful himself.”

But the wife was in such fear that she fell on the floor, and her cap fell from her head.

Then the bird began again:

“My mother killed her little son …”

“Ah me!” cried the wife, “if I were but a thousand feet beneath the earth, that I might not hear that song.”

“My father grieved when I was gone …”

Then the woman fell down again as if dead.

“My sister loved me best of all …”

“Well,” said little Marleen, “I will go out too and see if the bird will give me anything.”

So she went out.

“She laid her kerchief over me … And took my bones that they might lie …”

And he threw down the shoes to her.

“Underneath the juniper-tree … Kywitt, Kywitt … what a beautiful bird am I!”

And she now felt quite happy and lighthearted; she put on the shoes and danced and jumped about in them. “I was so miserable,” she said, “when I came out, but that has all passed away; that is indeed a splendid bird, and he has given me a pair of red shoes.”

The wife sprang up, with her hair standing out from her head like flames of fire. “Then I will go out too,” she said, “and see if it will lighten my misery, for I feel as if the world were coming to an end.”

But as she crossed the threshold, crash! The bird threw the millstone down on her head, and she was crushed.

The father and little Marleen heard the sound and ran out, but they only saw mist and flame and fire rising from the spot, and when these had passed, there stood the little brother, and he took the father and little Marleen by the hand; then they all three rejoiced, and went inside together and sat down to their dinners and ate.

By the Brothers Grimm

There was once a fisherman who lived with his wife in a pigsty, close by the seaside. The fisherman used to go out all day long a-fishing; and one day, as he sat on the shore with his rod, looking at the sparkling waves and watching his line, all on a sudden his float was dragged away deep into the water: and in drawing it up he pulled out a great fish. But the fish said, “Pray let me live! I am not a real fish; I am an enchanted prince: put me in the water again, and let me go!”

“Oh, ho!” said the man, “you need not make so many words about the matter; I will have nothing to do with a fish that can talk: so swim away, sir, as soon as you please!”

Then he put him back into the water, and the fish darted straight down to the bottom, and left a long streak of blood behind him on the wave.

When the fisherman went home to his wife in the pigsty, he told her how he had caught a great fish, and how it had told him it was an enchanted prince, and how, on hearing it speak, he had let it go again. “Did not you ask it for anything?” said the wife, “we live very wretchedly here, in this nasty dirty pigsty; do go back and tell the fish we want a snug little cottage.”

The fisherman did not much like the business: however, he went to the seashore; and when he came back there the water looked all yellow and green. And he stood at the water's edge, and said:

“O man of the sea!  

Hearken to me!  

My wife Ilsabill  

Will have her own will,  

And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!”

Then the fish came swimming to him, and said, “Well, what is her will? What does your wife want?”

“Ah!” said the fisherman, “she says that when I had caught you, I ought to have asked you for something before I let you go; she does not like living any longer in the pigsty, and wants a snug little cottage.”

“Go home, then,” said the fish; “she is in the cottage already!”

So the man went home, and saw his wife standing at the door of a nice trim little cottage. “Come in, come in!” said she; “is not this much better than the filthy pigsty we had?” And there was a parlor, and a bedchamber, and a kitchen; and behind the cottage there was a little garden, planted with all sorts of flowers and fruits; and there was a courtyard behind, full of ducks and chickens.

“Ah!” said the fisherman, “how happily we shall live now!”

“We will try to do so, at least,” said his wife.

Everything went right for a week or two, and then Dame Ilsabill said, “Husband, there is not near room enough for us in this cottage; the courtyard and the garden are a great deal too small; I should like to have a large stone castle to live in: go to the fish again and tell him to give us a castle.”

“Wife,” said the fisherman, “I don't like to go to him again, for perhaps he will be angry; we ought to be easy with this pretty cottage to live in.”

“Nonsense!” said the wife; “he will do it very willingly, I know; go along and try!”

The fisherman went, but his heart was very heavy: and when he came to the sea, it looked blue and gloomy, though it was very calm; and he went close to the edge of the waves, and said:

“O man of the sea!  

Hearken to me!  

My wife Ilsabill  

Will have her own will,  

And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!”

“Well, what does she want now?” said the fish.

“Ah!” said the man, dolefully, “my wife wants to live in a stone castle.”

“Go home, then,” said the fish, “she is standing at the gate of it already.” So away went the fisherman, and found his wife standing before the gate of a great castle.

“See,” said she, “is not this grand?” With that they went into the castle together, and found a great many servants there, and the rooms all richly furnished, and full of golden chairs and tables; and behind the castle was a garden, and around it was a park half a mile long, full of sheep, and goats, and hares, and deer; and in the courtyard were stables and cow-houses.

“Well,” said the man, “now we will live cheerful and happy in this beautiful castle for the rest of our lives.”

“Perhaps we may,” said the wife, “but let us sleep upon it, before we make up our minds to that.” So they went to bed.

The next morning when Dame Ilsabill awoke it was broad daylight, and she jogged the fisherman with her elbow, and said, “Get up, husband, and bestir yourself, for we must be king of all the land.”

“Wife, wife,” said the man, “why should we wish to be the king? I will not be king.”

“Then I will,” said she.

“But, wife,” said the fisherman, “how can you be king—the fish cannot make you a king?”

“Husband,” said she, “say no more about it, but go and try! I will be king.” So the man went away quite sorrowful to think that his wife should want to be king. This time the sea looked a dark grey color, and was overspread with curling waves and the ridges of foam as he cried out:

“O man of the sea!  

Hearken to me!  

My wife Ilsabill  

Will have her own will,  

And hath sent me to beg a boon of thee!”

“Well, what would she have now?” said the fish.

“Alas!” said the poor man, “my wife wants to be king.”

“Go home,” said the fish; “she is king already.”

Then the fisherman went home; and as he came close to the palace he saw a troop of soldiers, and heard the sound of drums and trumpets. And when he went in he saw his wife sitting on a throne of gold and diamonds, with a golden crown upon her head; and on each side of her stood six fair maidens, each a head taller than the other. “Well, wife,” said the fisherman, “are you king?”