Kabanata Kabanata 43 · Thumbling as Journeyman

. Thumbling as Journeyman

A certain tailor had a son, who happened to be small, and no bigger

than a Thumb, and on this account he was always called Thumbling. He

had, however, some courage in him, and said to his father, “Father, I

must and will go out into the world.” “That’s right, my son,” said the

old man, and took a long darning-needle and made a knob of sealing-wax

on it at the candle, “and there is a sword for thee to take with thee

on the way.” Then the little tailor wanted to have one more meal with

them, and hopped into the kitchen to see what his lady mother had

cooked for the last time. It was, however, just dished up, and the dish

stood on the hearth. Then he said, “Mother, what is there to eat

to-day?” “See for thyself,” said his mother. So Thumbling jumped on to

the hearth, and peeped into the dish, but as he stretched his neck in

too far the steam from the food caught hold of him, and carried him up

the chimney. He rode about in the air on the steam for a while, until

at length he sank down to the ground again. Now the little tailor was

outside in the wide world, and he travelled about, and went to a master

in his craft, but the food was not good enough for him. “Mistress, if

you give us no better food,” said Thumbling, “I will go away, and early

to-morrow morning I will write with chalk on the door of your house,

‘Too many potatoes, too little meat! Farewell, Mr. Potato-King.’” “What

wouldst thou have forsooth, grasshopper?” said the mistress, and grew

angry, and seized a dishcloth, and was just going to strike him; but my

little tailor crept nimbly under a thimble, peeped out from beneath it,

and put his tongue out at the mistress. She took up the thimble, and

wanted to get hold of him, but little Thumbling hopped into the cloth,

and while the mistress was opening it out and looking for him, he got

into a crevice in the table. “Ho, ho, lady mistress,” cried he, and

thrust his head out, and when she began to strike him he leapt down

into the drawer. At last, however, she caught him and drove him out of

the house.

The little tailor journeyed on and came to a great forest, and there he

fell in with a band of robbers who had a design to steal the King’s

treasure. When they saw the little tailor, they thought, “A little

fellow like that can creep through a key-hole and serve as picklock to

us.” “Hollo,” cried one of them, “thou giant Goliath, wilt thou go to

the treasure-chamber with us? Thou canst slip thyself in and throw out

the money.” Thumbling reflected a while, and at length he said, “yes,”

and went with them to the treasure-chamber. Then he looked at the doors

above and below, to see if there was any crack in them. It was not long

before he espied one which was broad enough to let him in. He was

therefore about to get in at once, but one of the two sentries who

stood before the door, observed him, and said to the other, “What an

ugly spider is creeping there; I will kill it.” “Let the poor creature

alone,” said the other; “it has done thee no harm.” Then Thumbling got

safely through the crevice into the treasure-chamber, opened the window

beneath which the robbers were standing, and threw out to them one

thaler after another. When the little tailor was in the full swing of

his work, he heard the King coming to inspect his treasure-chamber, and

crept hastily into a hiding-place. The King noticed that several solid

thalers were missing, but could not conceive who could have stolen

them, for locks and bolts were in good condition, and all seemed well

guarded. Then he went away again, and said to the sentries, “Be on the

watch, some one is after the money.” When therefore Thumbling

recommenced his labours, they heard the money moving, and a sound of

klink, klink, klink. They ran swiftly in to seize the thief, but the

little tailor, who heard them coming, was still swifter, and leapt into

a corner and covered himself with a thaler, so that nothing could be

seen of him, and at the same time he mocked the sentries and cried,

“Here am I!” The sentries ran thither, but as they got there, he had

already hopped into another corner under a thaler, and was crying, “Ho,

ho, here am I!” The watchmen sprang there in haste, but Thumbling had

long ago got into a third corner, and was crying, “Ho, ho, here am I!”

And thus he made fools of them, and drove them so long round about the

treasure-chamber that they were weary and went away. Then by degrees he

threw all the thalers out, dispatching the last with all his might,

then hopped nimbly upon it, and flew down with it through the window.

The robbers paid him great compliments. “Thou art a valiant hero,” said

they; “wilt thou be our captain?”

Thumbling, however, declined, and said he wanted to see the world

first. They now divided the booty, but the little tailor only asked for

a kreuzer because he could not carry more.

Then he once more buckled on his sword, bade the robbers goodbye, and

took to the road. First, he went to work with some masters, but he had

no liking for that, and at last he hired himself as man-servant in an

inn. The maids, however, could not endure him, for he saw all they did

secretly, without their seeing him, and he told their master and

mistress what they had taken off the plates, and carried away out of

the cellar, for themselves. Then said they, “Wait, and we will pay thee

off!” and arranged with each other to play him a trick. Soon afterwards

when one of the maids was mowing in the garden, and saw Thumbling

jumping about and creeping up and down the plants, she mowed him up

quickly with the grass, tied all in a great cloth, and secretly threw

it to the cows. Now amongst them there was a great black one, who

swallowed him down without hurting him. Down below, however, it pleased

him ill, for it was quite dark, neither was any candle burning. When

the cow was being milked he cried,

“Strip, strap, strull,

Will the pail soon be full?”

But the noise of the milking prevented his being understood. After this

the master of the house came into the cow-byre and said, “That cow

shall be killed to-morrow.” Then Thumbling was so alarmed that he cried

out in a clear voice, “Let me out first, for I am shut up inside her.”

The master heard that quite well, but did not know from whence the

voice came. “Where art thou?” asked he. “In the black one,” answered

Thumbling, but the master did not understand what that meant, and went

out.

Next morning the cow was killed. Happily Thumbling did not meet with

one blow at the cutting up and chopping; he got among the sausage-meat.

And when the butcher came in and began his work, he cried out with all

his might, “Don’t chop too deep, don’t chop too deep, I am amongst it.”

No one heard this because of the noise of the chopping-knife. Now poor

Thumbling was in trouble, but trouble sharpens the wits, and he sprang

out so adroitly between the blows that none of them touched him, and he

escaped with a whole skin. But still he could not get away, there was

nothing for it but to let himself be thrust into a black-pudding with

the bits of bacon. His quarters there were rather confined, and besides

that he was hung up in the chimney to be smoked, and there time did

hang terribly heavy on his hands.

At length in winter he was taken down again, as the black-pudding had

to be set before a guest. When the hostess was cutting it in slices, he

took care not to stretch out his head too far lest a bit of it should

be cut off; at last he saw his opportunity, cleared a passage for

himself, and jumped out.

The little tailor, however, would not stay any longer in a house where

he fared so ill, so at once set out on his journey again. But his

liberty did not last long. In the open country he met with a fox who

snapped him up in a fit of absence. “Hollo, Mr. Fox,” cried the little

tailor, “it is I who am sticking in your throat, set me at liberty

again.” “Thou art right,” answered the fox. “Thou art next to nothing

for me, but if thou wilt promise me the fowls in thy father’s yard I

will let thee go.” “With all my heart,” replied Thumbling. “Thou shalt

have all the cocks and hens, that I promise thee.” Then the fox let him

go again, and himself carried him home. When the father once more saw

his dear son, he willingly gave the fox all the fowls which he had.

“For this I likewise bring thee a handsome bit of money,” said

Thumbling, and gave his father the kreuzer which he earned on his

travels.

“But why did the fox get the poor chickens to eat?” “Oh, you goose,

your father would surely love his child far more than the fowls in the

yard!”

46 Fitcher’s Bird

There was once a wizard who used to take the form of a poor man, and

went to houses and begged, and caught pretty girls. No one knew whither

he carried them, for they were never seen more. One day he appeared

before the door of a man who had three pretty daughters; he looked like

a poor weak beggar, and carried a basket on his back, as if he meant to

collect charitable gifts in it. He begged for a little food, and when

the eldest daughter came out and was just reaching him a piece of

bread, he did but touch her, and she was forced to jump into his

basket. Thereupon he hurried away with long strides, and carried her

away into a dark forest to his house, which stood in the midst of it.

Everything in the house was magnificent; he gave her whatsoever she

could possibly desire, and said, “My darling, thou wilt certainly be

happy with me, for thou hast everything thy heart can wish for.” This

lasted a few days, and then he said, “I must journey forth, and leave

thee alone for a short time; there are the keys of the house; thou

mayst go everywhere and look at everything except into one room, which

this little key here opens, and there I forbid thee to go on pain of

death.” He likewise gave her an egg and said, “Preserve the egg

carefully for me, and carry it continually about with thee, for a great

misfortune would arise from the loss of it.”

She took the keys and the egg, and promised to obey him in everything.

When he was gone, she went all round the house from the bottom to the

top, and examined everything. The rooms shone with silver and gold, and

she thought she had never seen such great splendour. At length she came

to the forbidden door; she wished to pass it by, but curiosity let her

have no rest. She examined the key, it looked just like any other; she

put it in the keyhole and turned it a little, and the door sprang open.

But what did she see when she went in? A great bloody basin stood in

the middle of the room, and therein lay human beings, dead and hewn to

pieces, and hard by was a block of wood, and a gleaming axe lay upon

it. She was so terribly alarmed that the egg which she held in her hand

fell into the basin. She got it out and washed the blood off, but in

vain, it appeared again in a moment. She washed and scrubbed, but she

could not get it out.

It was not long before the man came back from his journey, and the

first things which he asked for were the key and the egg. She gave them

to him, but she trembled as she did so, and he saw at once by the red

spots that she had been in the bloody chamber. “Since thou hast gone

into the room against my will,” said he, “thou shalt go back into it

against thine own. Thy life is ended.” He threw her down, dragged her

thither by her hair, cut her head off on the block, and hewed her in

pieces so that her blood ran on the ground. Then he threw her into the

basin with the rest.

“Now I will fetch myself the second,” said the wizard, and again he

went to the house in the shape of a poor man, and begged. Then the

second daughter brought him a piece of bread; he caught her like the

first, by simply touching her, and carried her away. She did not fare

better than her sister. She allowed herself to be led away by her

curiosity, opened the door of the bloody chamber, looked in, and had to

atone for it with her life on the wizard’s return. Then he went and

brought the third sister, but she was clever and crafty. When he had

given her the keys and the egg, and had left her, she first put the egg

away with great care, and then she examined the house, and at last went

into the forbidden room. Alas, what did she behold! Both her sisters

lay there in the basin, cruelly murdered, and cut in pieces. But she

began to gather their limbs together and put them in order, head, body,

arms and legs. And when nothing further was wanting the limbs began to

move and unite themselves together, and both the maidens opened their

eyes and were once more alive. Then they rejoiced and kissed and

caressed each other.

On his arrival, the man at once demanded the keys and the egg, and as

he could perceive no trace of any blood on it, he said, “Thou hast

stood the test, thou shalt be my bride.” He now had no longer any power

over her, and was forced to do whatsoever she desired. “Oh, very well,”

said she, “thou shalt first take a basketful of gold to my father and

mother, and carry it thyself on thy back; in the meantime I will

prepare for the wedding.” Then she ran to her sisters, whom she had

hidden in a little chamber, and said, “The moment has come when I can

save you. The wretch shall himself carry you home again, but as soon as

you are at home send help to me.” She put both of them in a basket and

covered them quite over with gold, so that nothing of them was to be

seen, then she called in the wizard and said to him, “Now carry the

basket away, but I shall look through my little window and watch to see

if thou stoppest on the way to stand or to rest.”

The wizard raised the basket on his back and went away with it, but it

weighed him down so heavily that the perspiration streamed from his

face. Then he sat down and wanted to rest awhile, but immediately one

of the girls in the basket cried, “I am looking through my little

window, and I see that thou art resting. Wilt thou go on at once?” He

thought it was his bride who was calling that to him; and got up on his

legs again. Once more he was going to sit down, but instantly she

cried, “I am looking through my little window, and I see that thou art

resting. Wilt thou go on directly?” And whenever he stood still, she

cried this, and then he was forced to go onwards, until at last,

groaning and out of breath, he took the basket with the gold and the

two maidens into their parents’ house. At home, however, the bride

prepared the marriage-feast, and sent invitations to the friends of the

wizard. Then she took a skull with grinning teeth, put some ornaments

on it and a wreath of flowers, carried it upstairs to the

garret-window, and let it look out from thence. When all was ready, she

got into a barrel of honey, and then cut the feather-bed open and

rolled herself in it, until she looked like a wondrous bird, and no one

could recognize her. Then she went out of the house, and on her way she

met some of the wedding-guests, who asked,

“O, Fitcher’s bird, how com’st thou here?”

“I come from Fitcher’s house quite near.”

“And what may the young bride be doing?”

“From cellar to garret she’s swept all clean,

And now from the window she’s peeping, I ween.”

At last she met the bridegroom, who was coming slowly back. He, like

the others, asked,

“O, Fitcher’s bird, how com’st thou here?”

“I come from Fitcher’s house quite near.”

“And what may the young bride be doing?

“From cellar to garret she’s swept all clean,

And now from the window she’s peeping, I ween.”

The bridegroom looked up, saw the decked-out skull, thought it was his

bride, and nodded to her, greeting her kindly. But when he and his

guests had all gone into the house, the brothers and kinsmen of the

bride, who had been sent to rescue her, arrived. They locked all the

doors of the house, that no one might escape, set fire to it, and the

wizard and all his crew had to burn.