[Note: first published in the edition of 1819, this is not a tale as actually found anywhere in German oral tradition, but rather a conflation by Wilhelm of two separate narratives from Paderborn. About the Grimm Collection.]
A man had a donkey that for many years had patiently carried bags of grain to the mill, but it had now reached the end of its strength and was getting less and less fit for work. Its master thought of getting rid of it, but the donkey saw that the future boded no good, ran away, and set out for Bremen, where it thought it might become a town musician. After it had been going for a while, it met a hunting dog lying on the roadway, panting as if tired from running. “Why are you panting like that, Hold Fast?” asked the donkey. “Alas,” said the hound, “because I’m old and getting feebler every day and am no longer of any use for hunting, my master was going to kill me and so I cleared out. But how am I to earn my daily bread?” “Do you know what?” said the donkey, “I’m going to Bremen, to become a town musician there. Come along and join the town band; I’ll play the lute, and you can beat the kettledrum.”
The dog agreed, and they went on. A little later they saw a cat sitting on the roadway looking very sad. “Well, what’s the matter with you, old Lick-Your-Whiskers?” said the donkey. “Who can be gay when one’s life is at stake?” answered the cat. “Because I’m getting old and my teeth are blunt and I’d much rather sit by the fire and purr than hunt mice, my mistress was going to drown me. True enough, I got away, but now I’m at my wits’ end. Where shall I go?” “Come along with us to Bremen; you’re an expert serenader; you can become a town musician there.” The cat thought that a fine idea and went along.
Next the three fugitives passed a farmyard where the cock was sitting on the gate, crowing with all its might. “Your crowing goes right through one,” said the donkey. “What are you up to?” “I prophesied good weather,” said the cock, “because this is Lady Day, when the Blessed Virgin has washed the Christ Child’s shirts and wants to dry them. But because tomorrow is Sunday and guests are coming, the farmer’s wife is merciless and has told the cook that she wants to eat me in a stew, and so I’m to have my head cut off tonight. Now I’m crowing with all my might while I still can.” “What nonsense, Red-Head,” said the donkey, “you’d better come along with us, we’re going to Bremen. You can find something better than death anywhere. You’ve got a good voice, and if we make music together, it’s bound to be good.” The cock accepted the proposal, and accordingly all four of them set forth together.
However, they couldn’t reach the city of Bremen in one day and that evening got into a forest, where they were going to spend the night. The donkey and the dog lay down under a big tree, while the cat and the cock got up in the branches; the cock, in fact, flew up to the very top, where it felt safest.
Before falling asleep, it looked around in all directions, thought it saw a light twinkling in the distance, and called out to its companions that there must be a house not too far off, for a light was shining. Then the donkey said, “Then we must set out toward it, for these quarters are bad.”
The dog thought that a few bones with a little meat on them wouldn’t come in amiss, so they started out toward the light. Soon it got brighter and brighter, until they reached a robbers’ den that was brilliantly lighted up. The donkey, as the biggest, approached the window and looked in.
“What do you see, Gray-Shanks,” asked the cock. “What do I see?” answered the donkey, “why, a table set with fine food and drink. and robbers are sitting around it and having a good time.” “That would be just the thing for us,” said the cock. “Yes, indeed, if we were only inside!” said the donkey.
Then the animals took counsel as to how to set about chasing the robbers away and in the end hit upon a trick. The donkey was to put its forefeet on the window sill, the dog to jump up on the donkey’s back, and the cat to climb up on the dog. Finally the cock flew up and perched on the cat’s head. When that was done, at a signal they all started their music: the donkey brayed, the dog barked, the cat miaowed, and the cock crowed. Then they all plunged through the window into the room, so that the panes rattled. At the terrible din the robbers jumped up, thinking that nothing less than a specter had come in, and flew in a panic out into the forest.
Now the four companions sat down to the table, made shift with what was left, and ate as if they weren’t going to get anything more to eat for a month.
When the four minstrels were finished, they put out the light and looked for a place to sleep, each according to its taste and comfort. The donkey lay down on the dungheap, the dog behind the door, the cat by the warm ashes on the hearth, while the cock perched on the rooftree. And since they were tired from their long journey, they soon fell asleep. When it was past midnight, and the robbers saw from afar that no light was burning in the house and everything seemed quiet, the leader said, “We shouldn’t have let ourselves be scared off,” and bade one of the band go and search the house. The latter found everything quiet and went into the kitchen to light a candle and, because he mistook the glowing fiery eyes of the cat for live coals, he touched a match to them. The cat, however, didn’t take it as a joke but sprang into his face, spitting and scratching. Then he was terribly frightened and ran, trying to get out by the back door. But the dog, which was lying there, jumped up and bit him in the leg, and when he ran across the yard and past the dungheap, the donkey gave him a good kick with its hind foot. And the cock, roused from its sleep by the noise and feeling very lively, cried down from the rooftree, “Cock-a- doodle-doo!”
Then the robber ran as fast as his legs would carry him to report to his leader, saying, “Alas, there’s a horrible witch in the house; she blew on me and scratched my face with her long fingers. Outside the door there’s a man with a knife, who stabbed me in the leg. In the yard is a black monster that beat me with a wooden club, and up on the roof is sitting a judge. He called out, ‘Bring me the rascal!’ Then I took to my heels.”
After this the robbers didn’t venture into the house any more, but the musicians of Bremen liked it so well there that they didn’t want to leave it again.
This tale is on everybody’s tongue, and the last person to tell it has just this minute finished.
