Chapter Chapter 35 · The Wishing-Table, the Gold-Ass, and the Cudgel in the Sack

. The Wishing-Table, the Gold-Ass, and the Cudgel in the Sack

There was once upon a time a tailor who had three sons, and only one

goat. But as the goat supported the whole of them with her milk, she

was obliged to have good food, and to be taken every day to pasture.

The sons, therefore, did this, in turn. Once the eldest took her to the

churchyard, where the finest herbs were to be found, and let her eat

and run about there. At night when it was time to go home he asked,

“Goat, hast thou had enough?” The goat answered,

“I have eaten so much,

Not a leaf more I’ll touch, meh! meh!”

“Come home, then,” said the youth, and took hold of the cord round her

neck, led her into the stable and tied her up securely. “Well,” said

the old tailor, “has the goat had as much food as she ought?” “Oh,”

answered the son, “she has eaten so much, not a leaf more she’ll

touch.” But the father wished to satisfy himself, and went down to the

stable, stroked the dear animal and asked, “Goat, art thou satisfied?”

The goat answered,

“Wherewithal should I be satisfied?

Among the graves I leapt about,

And found no food, so went without, meh! meh!”

“What do I hear?” cried the tailor, and ran upstairs and said to the

youth, “Hollo, thou liar: thou saidest the goat had had enough, and

hast let her hunger!” and in his anger he took the yard-measure from

the wall, and drove him out with blows.

Next day it was the turn of the second son, who looked out for a place

in the fence of the garden, where nothing but good herbs grew, and the

goat cleared them all off. At night when he wanted to go home, he

asked, “Goat, art thou satisfied?” The goat answered,

“I have eaten so much,

Not a leaf more I’ll touch, meh! meh!”

“Come home, then,” said the youth, and led her home, and tied her up in

the stable. “Well,” said the old tailor, “has the goat had as much food

as she ought?” “Oh,” answered the son, “she has eaten so much, not a

leaf more she’ll touch.” The tailor would not rely on this, but went

down to the stable and said, “Goat, hast thou had enough?” The goat

answered,

“Wherewithal should I be satisfied?

Among the graves I leapt about,

And found no food, so went without, meh! meh!”

“The godless wretch!” cried the tailor, “to let such a good animal

hunger,” and he ran up and drove the youth out of doors with the

yard-measure.

Now came the turn of the third son, who wanted to do the thing well,

and sought out some bushes with the finest leaves, and let the goat

devour them. In the evening when he wanted to go home, he asked, “Goat,

hast thou had enough?” The goat answered,

“I have eaten so much,

Not a leaf more I’ll touch, meh! meh!”

“Come home, then,” said the youth, and led her into the stable, and

tied her up. “Well,” said the old tailor, “has the goat had a proper

amount of food?” “She has eaten so much, not a leaf more she’ll touch.”

The tailor did not trust to that, but went down and asked, “Goat, hast

thou had enough?” The wicked beast answered,

“Wherewithal should I be satisfied?

Among the graves I leapt about,

And found no leaves, so went without, meh! meh!”

“Oh, the brood of liars!” cried the tailor, “each as wicked and

forgetful of his duty as the other! Ye shall no longer make a fool of

me,” and quite beside himself with anger, he ran upstairs and belabored

the poor young fellow so vigorously with the yard-measure that he

sprang out of the house.

The old tailor was now alone with his goat. Next morning he went down

into the stable, caressed the goat and said, “Come, my dear little

animal, I will take thee to feed myself.” He took her by the rope and

conducted her to green hedges, and amongst milfoil, and whatever else

goats like to eat. “There thou mayest for once eat to thy heart’s

content,” said he to her, and let her browse till evening. Then he

asked, “Goat, art thou satisfied?” She replied,

“I have eaten so much,

Not a leaf more I’ll touch, meh! meh!”

“Come home, then,” said the tailor, and led her into the stable, and

tied her fast. When he was going away, he turned round again and said,

“Well, art thou satisfied for once?” But the goat did not behave the

better to him, and cried,

“Wherewithal should I be satisfied?

Among the graves I leapt about,

And found no leaves, so went without, meh! meh!”

When the tailor heard that, he was shocked, and saw clearly that he had

driven away his three sons without cause. “Wait, thou ungrateful

creature,” cried he, “it is not enough to drive thee forth, I will mark

thee so that thou wilt no more dare to show thyself amongst honest

tailors.” In great haste he ran upstairs, fetched his razor, lathered

the goat’s head, and shaved her as clean as the palm of his hand. And

as the yard-measure would have been too good for her, he brought the

horsewhip, and gave her such cuts with it that she ran away in violent

haste.

When the tailor was thus left quite alone in his house he fell into

great grief, and would gladly have had his sons back again, but no one

knew whither they were gone. The eldest had apprenticed himself to a

joiner, and learnt industriously and indefatigably, and when the time

came for him to go travelling, his master presented him with a little

table which had no particular appearance, and was made of common wood,

but it had one good property; if anyone set it out, and said, “Little

table, spread thyself,” the good little table was at once covered with

a clean little cloth, and a plate was there, and a knife and fork

beside it, and dishes with boiled meats and roasted meats, as many as

there was room for, and a great glass of red wine shone so that it made

the heart glad. The young journeyman thought, “With this thou hast

enough for thy whole life,” and went joyously about the world and never

troubled himself at all whether an inn was good or bad, or if anything

was to be found in it or not. When it suited him he did not enter an

inn at all, but either on the plain, in a wood, a meadow, or wherever

he fancied, he took his little table off his back, set it down before

him, and said, “Cover thyself,” and then everything appeared that his

heart desired. At length he took it into his head to go back to his

father, whose anger would now be appeased, and who would now willingly

receive him with his wishing-table. It came to pass that on his way

home, he came one evening to an inn which was filled with guests. They

bade him welcome, and invited him to sit and eat with them, for

otherwise he would have difficulty in getting anything. “No,” answered

the joiner, “I will not take the few bites out of your mouths; rather

than that, you shall be my guests.” They laughed, and thought he was

jesting with them; he, however, placed his wooden table in the middle

of the room, and said, “Little table, cover thyself.” Instantly it was

covered with food, so good that the host could never have procured it,

and the smell of it ascended pleasantly to the nostrils of the guests.

“Fall to, dear friends,” said the joiner; and the guests when they saw

that he meant it, did not need to be asked twice, but drew near, pulled

out their knives and attacked it valiantly. And what surprised them the

most was that when a dish became empty, a full one instantly took its

place of its own accord. The innkeeper stood in one corner and watched

the affair; he did not at all know what to say, but thought, “Thou

couldst easily find a use for such a cook as that in thy kitchen.” The

joiner and his comrades made merry until late into the night; at length

they lay down to sleep, and the young apprentice also went to bed, and

set his magic table against the wall. The host’s thoughts, however, let

him have no rest; it occurred to him that there was a little old table

in his lumber-room which looked just like the apprentice’s and he

brought it out quite softly, and exchanged it for the wishing-table.

Next morning, the joiner paid for his bed, took up his table, never

thinking that he had got a false one, and went his way. At mid-day he

reached his father, who received him with great joy. “Well, my dear

son, what hast thou learnt?” said he to him. “Father, I have become a

joiner.”

“A good trade,” replied the old man; “but what hast thou brought back

with thee from thy apprenticeship?” “Father, the best thing which I

have brought back with me is this little table.” The tailor inspected

it on all sides and said, “Thou didst not make a masterpiece when thou

mad’st that; it is a bad old table.” “But it is a table which furnishes

itself,” replied the son. “When I set it out, and tell it to cover

itself, the most beautiful dishes stand on it, and a wine also, which

gladdens the heart. Just invite all our relations and friends, they

shall refresh and enjoy themselves for once, for the table will give

them all they require.” When the company was assembled, he put his

table in the middle of the room and said, “Little table, cover

thyself,” but the little table did not bestir itself, and remained just

as bare as any other table which did not understand language. Then the

poor apprentice became aware that his table had been changed, and was

ashamed at having to stand there like a liar. The relations, however,

mocked him, and were forced to go home without having eaten or drunk.

The father brought out his patches again, and went on tailoring, but

the son went to a master in the craft.

The second son had gone to a miller and had apprenticed himself to him.

When his years were over, the master said, “As thou hast conducted

thyself so well, I give thee an ass of a peculiar kind, which neither

draws a cart nor carries a sack.” “To what use is he put, then?” asked

the young apprentice. “He lets gold drop from his mouth,” answered the

miller. “If thou settest him on a cloth and sayest ‘Bricklebrit,’ the

good animal will drop gold pieces for thee.” “That is a fine thing,”

said the apprentice, and thanked the master, and went out into the

world. When he had need of gold, he had only to say “Bricklebrit” to

his ass, and it rained gold pieces, and he had nothing to do but pick

them off the ground. Wheresoever he went, the best of everything was

good enough for him, and the dearer the better, for he had always a

full purse. When he had looked about the world for some time, he

thought, “Thou must seek out thy father; if thou goest to him with the

gold-ass he will forget his anger, and receive thee well.” It came to

pass that he came to the same public-house in which his brother’s table

had been exchanged. He led his ass by the bridle, and the host was

about to take the animal from him and tie him up, but the young

apprentice said, “Don’t trouble yourself, I will take my grey horse

into the stable, and tie him up myself too, for I must know where he

stands.” This struck the host as odd, and he thought that a man who was

forced to look after his ass himself, could not have much to spend; but

when the stranger put his hand in his pocket and brought out two gold

pieces, and said he was to provide something good for him, the host

opened his eyes wide, and ran and sought out the best he could muster.

After dinner the guest asked what he owed. The host did not see why he

should not double the reckoning, and said the apprentice must give two

more gold pieces. He felt in his pocket, but his gold was just at an

end. “Wait an instant, sir host,” said he, “I will go and fetch some

money;” but he took the table-cloth with him. The host could not

imagine what this could mean, and being curious, stole after him, and

as the guest bolted the stable-door, he peeped through a hole left by a

knot in the wood. The stranger spread out the cloth under the animal

and cried, “Bricklebrit,” and immediately the beast began to let gold

pieces fall, so that it fairly rained down money on the ground. “Eh, my

word,” said the host, “ducats are quickly coined there! A purse like

that is not amiss.” The guest paid his score, and went to bed, but in

the night the host stole down into the stable, led away the master of

the mint, and tied up another ass in his place. Early next morning the

apprentice travelled away with his ass, and thought that he had his

gold-ass. At mid-day he reached his father, who rejoiced to see him

again, and gladly took him in. “What hast thou made of thyself, my

son?” asked the old man. “A miller,” dear father, he answered. “What

hast thou brought back with thee from thy travels?” “Nothing else but

an ass.” “There are asses enough here,” said the father, “I would

rather have had a good goat.” “Yes,” replied the son, “but it is no

common ass, but a gold-ass, when I say ‘Bricklebrit,’ the good beast

opens its mouth and drops a whole sheetful of gold pieces. Just summon

all our relations hither, and I will make them rich folks.” “That suits

me well,” said the tailor, “for then I shall have no need to torment

myself any longer with the needle,” and ran out himself and called the

relations together. As soon as they were assembled, the miller bade

them make way, spread out his cloth, and brought the ass into the room.

“Now watch,” said he, and cried, “Bricklebrit,” but no gold pieces

fell, and it was clear that the animal knew nothing of the art, for

every ass does not attain such perfection. Then the poor miller pulled

a long face, saw that he was betrayed, and begged pardon of the

relatives, who went home as poor as they came. There was no help for

it, the old man had to betake him to his needle once more, and the

youth hired himself to a miller.

The third brother had apprenticed himself to a turner, and as that is

skilled labour, he was the longest in learning. His brothers, however,

told him in a letter how badly things had gone with them, and how the

innkeeper had cheated them of their beautiful wishing-gifts on the last

evening before they reached home. When the turner had served his time,

and had to set out on his travels, as he had conducted himself so well,

his master presented him with a sack and said, “There is a cudgel in

it.” “I can put on the sack,” said he, “and it may be of good service

to me, but why should the cudgel be in it? It only makes it heavy.” “I

will tell thee why,” replied the master; “if any one has done anything

to injure thee, do but say, ‘Out of the sack, Cudgel!’ and the cudgel

will leap forth among the people, and play such a dance on their backs

that they will not be able to stir or move for a week, and it will not

leave off until thou sayest, ‘Into the sack, Cudgel!’” The apprentice

thanked him, and put the sack on his back, and when any one came too

near him, and wished to attack him, he said, “Out of the sack, Cudgel!”

and instantly the cudgel sprang out, and dusted the coat or jacket of

one after the other on their backs, and never stopped until it had

stripped it off them, and it was done so quickly, that before anyone

was aware, it was already his own turn. In the evening the young turner

reached the inn where his brothers had been cheated. He laid his sack

on the table before him, and began to talk of all the wonderful things

which he had seen in the world. “Yes,” said he, “people may easily find

a table which will cover itself, a gold-ass, and things of that

kind—extremely good things which I by no means despise—but these are

nothing in comparison with the treasure which I have won for myself,

and am carrying about with me in my sack there.” The inn-keeper pricked

up his ears, “What in the world can that be?” thought he; “the sack

must be filled with nothing but jewels; I ought to get them cheap too,

for all good things go in threes.” When it was time for sleep, the

guest stretched himself on the bench, and laid his sack beneath him for

a pillow. When the inn-keeper thought his guest was lying in a sound

sleep, he went to him and pushed and pulled quite gently and carefully

at the sack to see if he could possibly draw it away and lay another in

its place. The turner had, however, been waiting for this for a long

time, and now just as the inn-keeper was about to give a hearty tug, he

cried, “Out of the sack, Cudgel!” Instantly the little cudgel came

forth, and fell on the inn-keeper and gave him a sound thrashing.

The host cried for mercy; but the louder he cried, so much more heavily

the cudgel beat the time on his back, until at length he fell to the

ground exhausted. Then the turner said, “If thou dost not give back the

table which covers itself, and the gold-ass, the dance shall begin

afresh.” “Oh, no,” cried the host, quite humbly, “I will gladly produce

everything, only make the accursed kobold creep back into the sack.”

Then said the apprentice, “I will let mercy take the place of justice,

but beware of getting into mischief again!” So he cried, “Into the

sack, Cudgel!” and let him have rest.

Next morning the turner went home to his father with the wishing-table,

and the gold-ass. The tailor rejoiced when he saw him once more, and

asked him likewise what he had learned in foreign parts. “Dear father,”

said he, “I have become a turner.” “A skilled trade,” said the father.

“What hast thou brought back with thee from thy travels?”

“A precious thing, dear father,” replied the son, “a cudgel in the

sack.”

“What!” cried the father, “a cudgel! That’s worth thy trouble, indeed!

From every tree thou can cut thyself one.” “But not one like this, dear

father. If I say, ‘Out of the sack, Cudgel!’ the cudgel springs out and

leads any one who means ill with me a weary dance, and never stops

until he lies on the ground and prays for fair weather. Look you, with

this cudgel have I got back the wishing-table and the gold-ass which

the thievish inn-keeper took away from my brothers. Now let them both

be sent for, and invite all our kinsmen. I will give them to eat and to

drink, and will fill their pockets with gold into the bargain.” The old

tailor would not quite believe, but nevertheless got the relatives

together. Then the turner spread a cloth in the room and led in the

gold-ass, and said to his brother, “Now, dear brother, speak to him.”

The miller said, “Bricklebrit,” and instantly the gold pieces fell down

on the cloth like a thunder-shower, and the ass did not stop until

every one of them had so much that he could carry no more. (I can see

in thy face that thou also wouldst like to be there.)

Then the turner brought the little table, and said, “Now dear brother,

speak to it.” And scarcely had the carpenter said, “Table, cover

thyself,” than it was spread and amply covered with the most exquisite

dishes. Then such a meal took place as the good tailor had never yet

known in his house, and the whole party of kinsmen stayed together till

far in the night, and were all merry and glad. The tailor locked away

needle and thread, yard-measure and goose, in a press, and lived with

his three sons in joy and splendour. (What, however, has become of the

goat who was to blame for the tailor driving out his three sons? That I

will tell thee. She was ashamed that she had a bald head, and ran to a

fox’s hole and crept into it. When the fox came home, he was met by two

great eyes shining out of the darkness, and was terrified and ran away.

A bear met him, and as the fox looked quite disturbed, he said, “What

is the matter with thee, brother Fox, why dost thou look like that?”

“Ah,” answered Redskin, “a fierce beast is in my cave and stared at me

with its fiery eyes.” “We will soon drive him out,” said the bear, and

went with him to the cave and looked in, but when he saw the fiery

eyes, fear seized on him likewise; he would have nothing to do with the

furious beast, and took to his heels. The bee met him, and as she saw

that he was ill at ease, she said, “Bear, thou art really pulling a

very pitiful face; what has become of all thy gaiety?” “It is all very

well for thee to talk,” replied the bear, “a furious beast with staring

eyes is in Redskin’s house, and we can’t drive him out.” The bee said,

“Bear I pity thee, I am a poor weak creature whom thou wouldst not turn

aside to look at, but still, I believe, I can help thee.” She flew into

the fox’s cave, lighted on the goat’s smoothly-shorn head, and stung

her so violently, that she sprang up, crying “Meh, meh,” and ran forth

into the world as if mad, and to this hour no one knows where she has

gone.)