The Willow-Wren |
ONCE THERE was a little boy called Till Ulenspighel. His father was a good blacksmith, his mother a kindly woman - and Till had such a lively personality, bright and naughty, that people couldn't help smiling when they saw him. In time he came to enjoy playing tricks and teasing too.
But there were others who didn't see the funny side of his pranks, and they were also among his fellow citizens. Neighbours complained to his father, saying, "Mr. Ulenspighel, what a rude son you have!"
And so, one day, Till's father said to him, "Listen, son, why don't people like you? Do you annoy them?"
"Why?" said Till, "it is other people that shake their fists at me whenever they see me and say nasty things."
"Hmm!" said his father and thought for a while. "I'm going to market with the donkey. Get up behind!"
Till did not need to be told twice and he clambered behind his father. But the second he was on the donkey's back, he hung a notice on his shoulders on which he had written: 'Whoever reads this is a donkey.'
People did read it and they were offended, so they shook their fists and shouted, "Oh, you horrid boy, Till! What a little horror you are!"
On hearing these shouts, Till's father, who knew nothing about the notice, muttered: "You're right, Till. People are angry with you, though goodness knows why! Don't worry," he added, "come and sit in front and we'll see if they still call you names."
Till did as he was told and slung the notice over his chest where his father couldn't see it - but his father could see other people as they shook their fists, scowled, shouted and yelled insults. Now he told his son, "Folk don't like you, Till. But pay no attention to them and go your own way!"
Time went by and Till began to weary of long faces every time people saw him. Then one day a company of wandering entertainers came to the town: actors, sword swallowers and acrobats. They made a great impression on the lad, who stared at them open-mouthed. While holding a pole in their hands, they kept their balance as they walked the tightrope across the road. How he would love to do the same. The people who now shook their fists at him would clap their hands.
No sooner thought than done, the boy picked up a pole, stretched a rope between two trees in the wood and started to practise. It was not easy and he fell more than once. But in the end he felt quite secure and decided to hold a show. He went through the streets crying, "Tomorrow Till Ulenspighel, the acrobat, will walk the tightrope!"
Filled with curiosity, everyone came to look at. Till had stretched the rope between his balcony and a tree in the nearby wood: the rope lay above the river and the young lad climbed on. The crowd that at first had laughed and made a noise, grew quiet after a while, and was impressed: "He's clever all right," someone said. "He's a real acrobat," said someone else. "We were wrong about him!" At that moment, Till's mother, who knew nothing about her son's gymnastics, heard the murmur of the crowd and went onto the balcony and saw her son walking the rope in the air. Frightened, she shouted, "Till, come down at once!" And seeing that the boy was not doing as he was told, she picked up the scissors and cut the rope. Till fell with a splash into the river.
The onlookers started to laugh and make fun of the lad as he struggled soaking from the water. "Hey, acrobat! If that had been the ground instead of water, you would have had a cracked head, wouldn't you?" they called, chuckling.
Till said to himself, "Laugh if you want to, he who laughs last laughs longest!"
Some days later Till announced he was going to repeat the show, this time not over the river but above the main road. Everyone rushed to watch. Before he ventured on to the rope, Till called out, "To make it more difficult for me, I'm going to carry a sack on my back. Every spectator will give me his left shoe. I'll put it in the sack and hand it back at the end of the show."
Everyone did this. Till walked the tightrope till he reached the middle of the road, and from the heights he said, "Now I'm going to give you back your shoes. There they are!" And opening the sack, he emptied out the shoes.
The onlookers got hit by shoes, and everyone hunted for his own shoe, argued with others too, and also exchanged insults. And from a window on high Till looked down on the confusion and said with a chuckle, "Who laughs last laughs longest!"
✑ Till Owlglass tales of Hermann Bote
IN THE year 1284 a mysterious man appeared in Hameln. He was wearing a coat of many coloured, bright cloth, for which reason he was called the Pied Piper. He claimed to be a rat catcher, and he promised that for a certain sum he would rid the city of all mice and rats. The citizens struck a deal, promising him a certain price. The rat catcher then took a small fife from his pocket and began to blow on it. Rats and mice at once came from every house and gathered around him. When he thought that he had them all he led them to the River Weser where he pulled up his clothes and walked into the water. The animals all followed him, fell in, and drowned.
Now that the citizens had been freed of their plague, they regretted having promised so much money, and, using all kinds of excuses, they refused to pay him. Finally he went away, bitter and angry. He returned on June 26, Saint John's and Saint Paul's Day, early in the morning at seven o'clock (others say it was at noon), now dressed in a hunter's costume, with a dreadful look on his face and wearing a strange red hat. He sounded his fife in the streets, but this time it wasn't rats and mice that came to him, but rather children: a great number of boys and girls from their fourth year on. Among them was the mayor's grown daughter. The swarm followed him, and he led them into a mountain, where he disappeared with them.
All this was seen by a babysitter who had followed them from a distance, carrying a child in her arms, but had then turned around and carried the news back to the town.
The anxious parents ran in droves to the town gates seeking their children. The mothers cried out and sobbed pitifully. Within the hour messengers were sent everywhere by water and by land inquiring if the children -- or any of them -- had been seen, but it was all for nothing.
In total, one hundred and thirty were lost. Two, as some say, had lagged behind and came back. One of them was blind and the other mute. The blind one was not able to point out the place, but was able to tell how they had followed the piper. The mute one was able to point out the place, although he [or she] had heard nothing. One little boy in shirtsleeves had gone along with the others, but had turned back to fetch his jacket and thus escaped the tragedy, for when he returned, the others had already disappeared into a cave within a hill. This cave is still shown. Some say that the children were led into a cave, and that they came out again in Transylvania.
The citizens of Hameln recorded this event in their town register, and the following lines were inscribed on the town hall:
In the year 1284 AD
From Hameln were led away
One hundred and thirty children, born at this place
Led away by a piper into a mountain.
Source: Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, "Die Kinder zu Hameln", Deutsche Sagen. Vol. 1, no. 245.
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