[An artist (painter) named Otto Runge, who died in 1810, obtained this tale and Grimm no. 47 (Von dem Machandelboom, “The Juniper,”) in Pomeranian dialect—it is not known exactly how he acquired them—from north German fishermen, and he sent them to a publisher, J. G. Zimmer, in Heidelberg, in 1806. Achim von Arnim subsequently obtained the texts from Zimmer, and in 1809 supplied them to the Grimm brothers, who included both tales in their first edition of 1812. In Berlin their publisher Georg Reimer took exception however to the peculiarities of dialect in these two texts, and on his own authority—without consulting the Grimm brothers—made many textual changes in them. In 1840, Otto Runge’s brother Daniel published an edition of Otto’s collected works, including versions of the two texts which Daniel noted as ‘for the most part, although not perfectly, couched in the dialect of Hamburg.’ The Grimms then adopted these new texts of the two tales for their own later editions of the Kinder- und Hausmärchen. In Berlin in 1814 this tale was regarded by some as a parable of the fall of Napoleon. About the Grimm Collection.]
Once upon a time there was a fisherman and his wife. They lived together in a chamber pot close by the sea, and every day the fisherman went out and fished. And he fished and fished. And once he was sitting with his hook and line and staring into the bright water. And he sat and sat. Then his hook went deep down to the bottom, and when he pulled it up, he fetched out a big flounder. Then the flounder said to him, “Now listen, fisherman, I pray you let me live; I’m not a real flounder, I’m an enchanted prince. What good will it do you to kill me? I wouldn’t taste very good anyhow. Put me back in the water and let me swim away.” “Well,” said the man, “you don’t need to talk so much; a flounder that can talk I’d have let go in any event.” Thereupon he put it back in the bright water. The flounder went to the bottom, leaving behind a long streak of blood. Then the fisherman got up and went back to his wife in the chamber pot.
“Husband,” said the wife, “didn’t you catch anything today?” “No,” said the man, “I caught a flounder, but it said it was an enchanted prince; then I let it swim away again.” “Didn’t you make a wish?” said the wife. “No,” said the husband, “what should I be wishing for myself?” “Oh dear,” said the woman, “it’s too wretched to live forever in a chamber pot; it smells and is so disgusting. You might have wished for a little cottage for us. Go back again and call it. Tell it we’d like to have a little cottage and it’ll surely do it,” “Oh,” said the husband, “why should I go back there?” “Well,” said the wife, “after all, you did catch it and let it swim away again. It’ll surely do it. Go right away!” The man didn’t really want to but didn’t want to oppose his wife, so he went to the sea.
When he got there, the sea was quite green and yellow and no longer so bright. Then he stood there and said,
Manntje, manntje, timpe te,
Flounder, flounder in the sea!
My wife Ilsebill
Doesn’t want what I really want.
Then the flounder came swimming up and said, “Well, what does she want?” “Oh dear,” said the man, “I caught you, and my wife says I ought to have wished myself something. She doesn’t want to live in a chamber pot any longer, she wants a little cottage.” “Just go back,” said the flounder, “she’s got the whole thing.”
Then the man went back, and his wife was no longer sitting in a chamber pot, but there was a little cottage, and his wife was sitting outside the door on a bench. Then she took him by the hand and said to him, “Come in, look! Now this is really much better.” Then they went in, and in the cottage was a little entryway and a lovely little living room, and a bedroom with their bed in it, and a kitchen and a pantry, everything of the best, with utensils neatly hung up, tinware and brass that goes with a kitchen. And behind the cottage was a little yard with chickens and ducks and a little garden with vegetables and fruit trees. “Look,” said the wife, “isn’t this nice?” “Yes,” said the husband, “let it stay that way; now we’ll live quite contented.” “That’s something to think about,” said the wife. Then they had a bite to eat and went to bed.
Everything went well for about a week or a fortnight, then the wife said, “Listen, husband, the cottage is altogether too cramped, and the yard and garden are very small. The flounder could of course have given us a larger house; I’d like to live in a big stone mansion. Go to the flounder; he’ll give us a mansion.” “Oh, wife,” said the husband, “the cottage is good enough. Why should we want to live in a mansion?” “I know,” said the wife, “you just go; the flounder can easily do this.” “No, wife,” said the man, “the flounder’s just given us the cottage; I don’t want to go back again, it might offend the flounder.” “Just the same you go,” said the woman; “it can easily do this and will be glad to. Just go!” The man’s heart was very heavy and he didn’t want to go. He said to himself, “It isn’t right,” but he went nevertheless.
When he got to the sea, the water was quite rough, dark blue and gray and dead-looking and no longer so green and yellow, though it was still fairly calm. Then he stood there and said,
Manntje, manntje, timpe te,
Flounder, flounder in the sea!
My wife Ilsebill
Doesn’t want what I really want.
“Well, what does she want?” said the flounder. “Oh,” said the man somewhat distressed, “she wants to live in a big stone castle.” “Just go home; she’s standing before the door,” said the flounder.
Then the man went back and thought he was going home, but when he got there, there stood a big stone palace, and his wife was standing right on the steps and was about to enter. She took him by the hand and said, “Come on in.” Then he went in with her, and in the castle was a big front hall with a marble floor, and there were lots of servants who opened the great doors, and the walls were all shiny and hung with fine tapestries. In the rooms were only golden chairs and tables, silver chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and all the rooms and chambers were carpeted. Food and the very best wine were on the tables, which threatened to break under their load. Behind the house was a big courtyard with stables for horses and cows, the finest coaches, also a beautiful big garden with the loveliest flowers and fine fruit trees, and a park half a mile long with stags and roe and hares there, and everything one might ever wish for. “Well,” said the wife, “isn’t that nice?” “Yes, of course,” said the man; “let it stay that way and let’s live in the fine castle and be content.” “We’ll think about that,” said the wife, “and sleep on it,” And so they went to bed.
Next morning the wife was the first to wake up. It was just daybreak, and from her bed she saw the wonderful land spread out before her. Her husband was still stretching himself. Then she nudged him with her elbow and said, “Man, get up and take a look out the window. Look now, can’t we be king over all this country? Go to the flounder and tell him we’d like to be king.” “Oh, wife,” said the man, “why do we want to be king? I don’t want to be king.” “Well,” said the woman, “if you don’t want to be king, I do. Go to the flounder; I want to be king.” “Oh, wife,” said the man, “why do you want to be king? I don’t want to say that to it.” “Why not?” said the wife. “Go straight there! I must be king.” Then the man went and was thoroughly distressed that his wife wanted to be king. “It isn’t right, it isn’t right,” he thought. He didn’t want to go there, but he went just the same.
When he got to the sea, it was blackish gray and black and dead-looking, and there was a ground swell and the water smelled terribly, too. Then he stood there and said,
Manntje, manntje, timpe te,
Flounder, flounder in the sea!
My wife Ilsebill
Doesn’t want what I really want.
“Well, what does she want?” said the flounder. “Alas!” said the man, she wants to be king.” “Just go back; that’s what she is,” said the flounder.
Then the man went back, and when he approached the palace, the castle had become much bigger and had a huge keep, splendidly ornamented, with sentries standing in front of the gate, and there were ever so many soldiers with drums and trumpets. When he went inside, everything was of solid gold and marble, and there were velvet coverings with great golden tassels. Then the doors of the great hall opened, and there was the whole court. His wife was sitting on a high throne of gold and diamonds with a golden crown on her head and in her hand a jeweled scepter of solid gold, and she was flanked by a row of ladies-in-waiting, each a head shorter than the next.
Then he stepped up and said, “Oh, wife, are you king now?” “Yes,” said the woman, “now I’m king.” Then he stood and looked about and after looking for some time, said, “Oh, wife, how nice that you’re king. Now let’s not wish for anything more.” “Well, husband,” said the woman and got quite restless, “time’s hanging heavy on my hands and I can’t stand it any longer. Go to the flounder! I’m king, and now I must become emperor as well.” “Oh, wife,” said the man, “why do you want to be emperor?” “Husband,” she said, “go to the flounder! I want to be emperor.” “Oh, wife,” said the man, “it can’t make emperors; I don’t want to say that to the flounder. There’s only one emperor in the empire. The flounder can’t make emperors; it absolutely can’t do that.” “What!” said the woman, “I’m king and you’re my vassal. Will you go straight off! straight off! If it can make kings, it can also make emperors. I insist on being emperor. Go right away!” So he had to go. While on the way he got quite frightened and thought to himself, “It just isn’t right; ‘emperor’ is too brazen. In the end the flounder will get tired of it.”
Meanwhile he got to the sea, and the sea was all black and soupy and began to boil up so that it made bubbles, and such a gale passed over the surface that it stirred it, and the man was frightened. But he stepped up and said,
Manntje, manntje, timpe te,
Flounder, flounder in the sea!
My wife Ilsebill
Doesn’t want what I really want.
“Well, what does she want?” said the flounder. “Alas, flounder,” he said, “my wife wants to become emperor,” “Just go back,” said the flounder, “she’s emperor already.”
Then the man went back, and when he got there, the whole mansion was of polished marble with alabaster figures and golden ornaments. Soldiers were marching before the door, blowing trumpets and beating drums and kettledrums, and within barons and counts and dukes were walking about as servants and opened the doors for him, and these were of solid gold. And when he went in, there was his wife sitting on a throne wrought of a single piece of gold and two miles high, and she had on a golden crown three yards high and set with brilliants and carbuncles. In one hand she held the scepter and in the other the imperial apple. On both sides she was flanked by satellites standing in two rows, each person shorter than the next, ranging in size from the tallest giant, who was two miles tall, to the tiniest dwarf only as big as my little finger. And before her were standing many princes and dukes.
Then the man stepped up and said, “Wife, are you now emperor?” “Yes,” she said, “I’m emperor.” Then he stopped and took a good look at her and, after looking at her for some time, he said, “Oh, wife, how nice that you’re emperor.” “Husband,” she said, “why are you standing there? Now that I’m emperor, I want to be pope, too. Go to the flounder!” “Oh, wife,” said the man, “what on earth don’t you want! You can’t be pope; there’s only one pope in Christendom; the flounder can’t make you that.” “Husband,” she said, “I want to be pope. Go straight away! I must be pope this very day.” “No, wife,” said the husband, “I don’t want to say that to it; it’s not right, it’s not right; it’s too much of a good thing. The flounder can’t make you pope.” “Husband, what nonsense!” said the wife, “if it can make me emperor, it can make me pope, too. Go right away! I’m emperor and you’re my vassal. Will you please go!”
Then he got frightened and went but felt quite faint and trembled and shook, and his knees and calves quaked. A strong wind was blowing over the land and there were scudding clouds as night fell. The leaves were falling from the trees, and the water surged and roared as if it were boiling, and it beat against the shore, and at a distance he saw ships maneuvering in distress and dancing and tossing about on the waves. The sky was still a little blue in the middle, but on the horizon it was as coppery as before a heavy thunderstorm. Then quite timid and fearful he stepped up and said,
Manntje, manntie, timpe te,
Flounder, flounder in the sea!
My wife Ilsebill
Doesn’t want what I really want.
“Well, what does she want,” said the flounder. “Alas,” said the man, “she wants to be pope,” “Go right back; she’s pope already,” said the flounder.
He went back, and when he got there, there was a big church with nothing but palaces around it. He forced his way through the crowd. Within everything was illuminated with thousands and thousands of candles, and his wife, dressed in solid gold, was sitting on a still higher throne with three big golden crowns on, and around her stood a multitude of ecclesiastics, and on both sides of her were two rows of candles, the biggest as thick through as the highest tower and so on down to the tiniest church candle. And all the emperors and kings were kneeling before her kissing her slipper. “Wife,” said the husband, looking straight at her, “are you now pope?” “Yes,” she said, “I’m pope.” Then he stepped up and looked straight at her, and it was as if he were looking into the bright sun. When he’d looked at her for a while, he said, “Oh, wife, how nice that you’re pope.” But she sat as stiff as a ramrod and neither stirred nor moved. Then he said, “Wife, now be content since you’re pope, for you can’t get any higher,” “I’Il think that over,” said the woman. Then they both went to bed. But she wasn’t content, and her ambition didn’t let her sleep; she kept thinking all the time how she might get still higher.
The man slept soundly and well, for he’d walked a good deal that day, but his wife couldn’t get to sleep and all night long tossed about in her bed and kept thinking how she might get higher. And yet she couldn’t think of anything more. Meanwhile it was about sunrise, and when she saw the dawn, she sat up in her bed and gazed into it, and when she saw the sun rise, she thought, “Aha! Couldn’t I, too, make the sun and moon rise?” “Husband,” she said and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, “wake up and go to the flounder. I want to be like God.”
The man was still practically asleep, but he got so frightened that he fell out of bed. He thought he hadn’t heard right and, rubbing his eyes, said, “Oh, wife, what are you saying?” “Husband,” she said, “if I can’t make the sun and moon rise and if I can only watch them rise, I shan’t be able to bear it. I shan’t have another hour of peace until I can make them rise myself.” Then she gave him such a terrifying look that a shudder ran over him. “Go right away! I want to be like God.” “Oh, wife”’ said the husband, falling on his knees before her, “the flounder can’t do that. It can make an emperor and a pope. I pray you, think it over and remain pope.” Then she got angry, her hair flew wildly about her head, she tore her bodice, and gave him a kick, screaming, “I simply won’t stand it any longer. Will you go!” Then he put on his trousers and ran off like mad.
Outside a storm was raging so that he could scarcely stay on his feet. Houses and trees were falling, the mountains shaking, and great boulders rolling down into the sea. The sky was absolutely pitch-black, there was thunder and lightning, and the sea was throwing up black waves as high as church steeples and mountains, and all with crests of white foam. Then he shouted, but couldn’t hear his own voice,
Manntje, manntje, timpe te,
Flounder, flounder in the sea!
My wife Ilsebill
Doesn’t want what I want at all.
“Well, what does she want?” said the flounder. “Oh,” he said, “she wants to be like God.” “Just go home, she’s back in the chamber pot again.”
To this day they’re still there.
