[Note: an artist (painter) named Otto Runge, who died in 1810, obtained this tale and Grimm no. 19 (Von dem Fischer un syner Fru, “The Fisherman and His Wife,”) 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. Their publisher in Berlin, Georg Reimer, took exception however to the peculiarities of dialect in these two texts, and on his own authority—without bothering to consult 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.’ These new texts of the two tales Wilhelm Grimm then adopted for his own later editions of the Kinder- und Hausmärchen. This tale is archetypal for the Grimms’ notions about a hypothetical pre-Christian Teutonic religion of nature, but the vengefully incanting bird had wider currency. About the Grimm Collection.]
A long time ago, probably a good two thousand years, there lived a rich man who had a beautiful and devout wife, and they loved one another very much. They had no children but very much wanted some. Day and night the wife prayed ever so much about it, but they didn’t have any and didn’t have any. In front of the house was a yard, and in it stood a juniper. Once in winter the wife was standing under it, peeling herself an apple, and as she was peeling the apple, she cut her finger, and the blood dropped in the snow. “Alas,” said the wife and heaved a deep sigh. Then she looked at the blood in front of her and grew quite sad. “If only I had a child as red as blood and as white as snow!” As she said this, she became quite joyful of heart: she felt that something would come of it.
She went into the house, and a month passed and the snow went away. After two months things got green. After three months the flowers came up. After four months all the trees in the forest burst into leaf and the green boughs were all intertwined and the birds sang so that the whole forest resounded, and the blossoms fell from the trees. The fifth month passed. Then she stood under the juniper, and it was very fragrant. Her heart leapt for joy, and she fell on her knees and was beside herself. When the sixth month had passed, the fruit got full and firm, and she became very quiet. In the seventh month she reached for the juniper berries and ate them most greedily. Then she grew sad and ill. The eighth month passed, and she called her husband and, weeping, said, “If I die, bury me under the juniper.” Then she became quite consoled and joyful, until the ninth month passed. Then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood, and when she saw it, she was so happy that she died.
Her husband buried her under the juniper and began to weep very hard. After a time he wept somewhat less and after weeping a little more, stopped. Some time after that he again took a wife.
By his second wife he had a daughter. The first wife’s child was a little boy, and he was as red as blood and as white as snow. When the wife looked at her daughter, she loved her very dearly, but then she’d look at the little boy, and it pained her dreadfully, and he seemed to be always in the way. She kept thinking how she’d like to divert the whole inheritance to her daughter, and the Evil One inspired her with a grudge against the little boy. She shoved him about from pillar to post and buffeted him here and cuffed him there, so that the poor child was always in a state of fear. When he got out of school, he had no peace or quiet.
Once the wife went to her room, and her little daughter came up and said, “Mother, give me an apple.” “Yes, my child,” said the wife and gave her a nice apple from a chest. The chest had a big, heavy lid and a big, sharp iron lock. “Mother,” said the little daughter, “isn’t brother to have one, too?” That astonished the wife, but she said, “Yes, when he gets out of school.” When she saw out the window that he was coming, the Evil One really seemed to possess her, and she made a grab and took her daughter’s apple away from her, saying, “You shan’t have one before your brother.” Then she threw the apple into the chest and shut it. The little boy came in the door, and the Evil One suggested that she say to him in a friendly way, “Son, do you want an apple?” and looked at him angrily. “Mother,” said the little boy, “how angry you look! Yes, give me an apple.” Then she felt she ought to persuade him. “Come along,” she said, opening the lid, “take out an apple for yourself,” and as the little boy was bending over the chest, the Evil One whispered to her, and crash! she slammed down the lid, so that his head flew off and fell among the red apples.
Then she was overcome with terror and thought, “How can I get out of this?” She went up to her room and took a white cloth from the top drawer of a dresser and put the boy’s head back on the neck and tied the neckerchief around it so that nothing could be seen. She set him on a chair outside the front door and put the apple in his hand.
Afterward Marlene went to her mother in the kitchen; the latter was standing by the fire and had a pot of hot water in front of her which she kept stirring. “Mother,” said Marlene, “brother’s sitting outside the door looking quite pale, and has an apple in his hand. I asked him to give me the apple, but he didn’t answer me. Then I got quite frightened.” “Go back,” said the mother, “and if he won’t answer you, box his ears.”
Then Marlene went back and said, “Brother, give me the apple,” but he kept still. Then she boxed his ears, and his head fell off.
At that she was frightened and began to weep and howl and, running to her mother, said, “Oh, mother, I’ve knocked my brother’s head off.” She kept on weeping and couldn’t be comforted. “Marlene,” said her mother, “What have you done! However, keep quiet about it, so that nobody will notice it. There’s nothing to be done about it in any event. We’ll cook him in vinegar.” Then the mother took the little boy and chopped him up, put the pieces in a pot, and cooked him in vinegar. But Marlene stood by and wept and wept, and all her tears fell into the pot and they didn’t need any salt.
The father came home and, sitting down to table, said, “Where’s my son?” Then the mother served up a great big dish of marinated minced boy, and Marlene wept and couldn’t stop. Again the father said, “Where’s my son?” “Oh,” said the mother, “he’s gone across country to mother’s great-uncle; he wanted to stay there for a while.” “What’s he doing there? He didn’t even say good-bye to me.” “Oh, he very much wanted to go and asked me if he might stay for six weeks. He’ll be well looked out for there.” “Oh,” said the man, “I’m very sad. It isn’t right; he should have said good-bye to me.” Then he began to eat and said, “Marlene, why are you weeping? Of course brother will come back. Oh, wife,” he went on to say, “how good the food tastes! Give me some more,” and the more he ate, the more he wanted and said, “Give me some more. The rest of you shan’t have any of this. I feel as if it were all mine.”
He went on eating and threw all the bones under the table until he had quite finished it. Then Marlene went to her dresser, took out her best piece of silk from the bottom drawer, collected all the bones, big and small, from under the table, tied them up in the silk cloth, carried them outside the door, and wept bitter tears. She laid them in the green grass under the juniper and, once she’d put them there, she suddenly felt light of heart and stopped weeping.
Then the juniper began to stir, and the branches parted and joined again, just as when one rejoices and claps one’s hands like that. At the same time a big mist issued from the tree, and right in the mist a fire seemed to burn, and from out of the fire flew such a beautiful bird that sang so magnificently and flew high up in the air.
When it had gone, the juniper was as it had been before, but the cloth with the bones had vanished. Marlene was very happy and contented, just as when her brother was still alive. She went quite happily back into the house, sat down at table, and ate.
The bird, however, flew away and, lighting on a goldsmith’s house, began to sing,
My mother, she killed me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister Marlene
Collected all my bones,
Tied them up in a silk cloth,
Laid them under the juniper.
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird I am!
The goldsmith was sitting in his workshop making a gold chain. He heard the bird that was perched on his roof and singing and thought it most beautiful. He got up and as he was walking across the threshold, lost a slipper, but he went right on up the middle of the street with only one slipper and one sock on. He had on his apron and was holding the gold chain in one hand and the tongs in the other, and the sun was shining bright on the street. He went and stopped and looked at the bird. “Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you can sing. Sing me that piece again.” “No,” said the bird, “I don’t sing twice for nothing. Give me the gold chain, and I’ll sing it again for you.” “There,” said the goldsmith, “you have the gold chain. Now sing it for me again.” Then the bird came, took the gold chain in its right claw, and perching in front of the goldsmith, sang,
My mother, she killed me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister Marlene
Collected all my bones,
Tied them up in a silk cloth,
Laid them under the juniper.
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird I am!
Then the bird flew away to a shoemaker and perching on his roof, sang,
My mother, she killed me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister Marlene
Collected all my bones,
Tied them up in a silk cloth,
Laid them under the juniper.
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird I am!
The shoemaker heard it and ran to the door in his shirt sleeves, looked toward the roof, and had to keep his hand before his eyes lest the sun blind him. “Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you can sing.” Then he called in through the door, “Wife, come out here, there’s a bird. Just look at it; it certainly can sing beautifully.” Then he called his daughter and her children and the journeyman, apprentice, and maid, and they all came out onto the street and, looking at the bird, saw how beautiful it was, that it had such bright red and green feathers, with something like pure gold around its neck, and that the eyes in its head twinkled like stars. “Bird,” said the shoemaker, “now sing me that piece again.” “No,” said the bird, “I don’t sing twice for nothing. You’ve got to make me a present of something.” “Wife,” said the husband, “go to the shop. There’s a pair of red shoes on the top shelf; fetch them down.” The wife went and fetched the shoes. “There, bird,” said the man, “now sing me the piece once more.” Then the bird came and taking the shoes in its left claw, flew back up on the roof and sang,
My mother, she killed me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister Marlene
Collected all my bones,
Tied them up in a silk cloth,
Laid them under the juniper.
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird I am!
When it finished, it flew away. It had the chain in its right claw and the shoes in its left and flew far away to a mill. The mill was going clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack, and in the mill were sitting twenty miller’s apprentices. They were holding a stone and cutting it chip-chip, chip-chip, chip-chip, and the mill was still going clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The bird perched on a linden that stood outside the mill and sang,
My mother, she killed me.
Then one of the apprentices stopped.
My father, he ate me.
Then two more stopped and heard,
My sister Marlene
Then four more stopped.
Collected all my bones,
Tied them up in a silk cloth.
Now only eight were chipping.
Laid them under...
Now only five.
...the juniper.
Now only one.
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird I am!
Then the last one, too, stopped and heard the last words. “Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you sing. Let me hear that, too. Sing it for me once more.” “No,” said the bird, “I don’t sing twice for nothing. Give me the millstone, then I’ll sing it again.” “Yes,” he said, “if it belonged just to me, you should have it.” “Yes,” said the others; “if it sings once more, it’ll have it.” Then the bird came down, and all twenty millers took levers and raised the stone, “one, two, three, up!” Then the bird stuck its neck through the hole, putting it on like a collar, flew back up in the tree, and sang,
My mother, she killed me,
My father, he ate me,
My sister Marlene
Collected all my bones,
Tied them up in a silk cloth,
Laid them under the juniper.
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird I am!
When it had finished, it spread its wings and in its right claw had the chain, in its left the shoes, and around its neck the millstone, and it flew far away to its father’s house.
The father, the mother, and Marlene were sitting in the living room, and the father was saying, “How happy I feel; I’m in really good spirits.” “Not I,” said the mother, “I feel very frightened, just as if a storm were brewing.” Marlene was sitting and weeping. Then the bird flew up, and as it lighted on the roof, the father said, “Oh, I feel so happy, and the sun’s shining so bright outdoors. I feel as though I were going to see an old acquaintance again.” “Not I,” said the wife, “I’m frightened. My teeth are chattering and I feel as if fire were running through my veins.” She tore open her bodice even more. Marlene was sitting in a corner weeping and had her handkerchief in front of her eyes and soaked it with her tears. Then the bird perched on the juniper and sang,
My mother, she killed me.
The mother stopped up her ears and shut her eyes and didn’t want to see anything or hear anything, but there was a roaring noise in her ears as in the wildest gale, and her eyes smarted and stung like lightning.
My father, he ate me.
“Oh, mother,” said the man, “there’s a beautiful bird. It’s singing so wonderfully, the sun’s shining so warm, and it smells like pure cinnamon.”
My sister Marlene
Then Marlene put her head on her knees and wept and wept, but the man said, “I’m going outdoors. I want to see the bird from close at hand.” “Oh, don’t go!” said the wife, “I feel as though the whole house was shaking and was in flames,” but the man went out and looked at the bird.
Collected all my bones,
Tied them up in a silk cloth,
Laid them under the juniper.
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird I am!
At these words the bird dropped the gold chain, and it fell around the man’s neck, so exactly around it that it fitted him perfectly. Then he went in and said, “See what a lovely bird it is! It made me a present of such a beautiful gold chain; it’s so wonderful looking.” The woman was very frightened and fell full length on the floor of the room, and her cap fell off her head. Then the bird again sang,
My mother, she killed me.
“Oh that I were a thousand fathoms under the earth not to hear this!”
My father, he ate me.
Then the wife fell down as if dead.
My sister Marlene
“Oh,” said Marlene, “I’ll go out, too, and see if the bird will give me something.” So she went out.
Collected all my bones,
Tied them up in a silk cloth.
Then it dropped the shoes down to her.
Laid them under the juniper.
Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird I am!
Then she felt so gay and happy, put on the new red shoes, and danced and skipped into the house. “Oh,” she said, “I was so sad when I went out, and now I feel so gay. It’s certainly a beautiful bird. It made me a present of a pair of shoes.” “Not I,” said the wife, jumping up and her hair standing on end like fiery flames, “I feel as if the world’s coming to an end. I, too, want to go out and see whether it’ll make me feel better.” As she went out the door, crash! the bird threw the millstone on her head, so that she was squashed to death.
The father and Marlene heard the noise and went out. Then steam and flames and fire rose from the spot, and when it was over, the little brother was standing there. He took his father and Marlene by the hand, and they were all three very happy and went into the house, sat down to table, and ate.
