No, I won't dance with a pussycat, I've never done that yet / Nein, mit einer Miezekatze tanze ich nicht, das hab' ich noch niemals getan

Artist unknown, I sincerely
hope this wiggles for you.

Well, if ever I can move beyond train stations and sausages in my grasp of the German language, this is probably the place to start.

Don't be scared, scroll down and you'll find a very nice English version I filched from the University of Michigan Fantasy and Science Fiction website.

This is my favorite story from the collection which Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm heroically saved from vanishing human memory, and first published in 1812 in "Haus- und Kindermarchen."

This weekend S.W.M.B.O. and I had the loveliest visit from my nephew and his wife and their two very little daughters. The older one walks and talks. I think we had enough stuffed bunnies and music boxes to entertain her, and from time to time each of our cats would make brief, suspicious appearances.

Very soon Mommy and Daddy will have to grapple with the difficult and controversial question of whether to read these bedtime stories to them.

Around 1800, the Grimm Brothers -- scholars of languages -- realized that very soon, the rise of industrial cities, and the introduction of gaslight, would forever disrupt and largely destroy ancient patterns of life and culture. Until that moment, the typical family lived on a farm with three or four generations under the same roof. And the Sun's rising (as announced by the rooster) and setting ruled the family's clock. Every night at bedtime mother or father or grandma or grandpa would tell a story to put the children to sleep and send them to Dreamland.

There were no storybooks, and most of the farm people couldn't read anyway. All the stories were just the same as the storytellers had heard a thousand times a lifetime ago from their own mothers and fathers and grandmothers and grandfathers. This was the unbroken chain that had passed these stories down for -- well, modern scholars now believe many of these stories are 10,000 years old, and come from every corner of Europe, Asia and Africa.

The most interesting aspect of this ancient chain is that the children themselves demanded that their favorite stories be told to them again and again, and fiercely refused to listen to stories they didn't like.

So every story the Grimm Brothers collected from old German farm women whom they found in cottages in the forest only survived because hundreds of generations of children loved them and demanded to hear them again and again, and they were thus kissed into memory for life.

The Grimm Brothers were the first ever to write them down, and so they are saved, preserved to this day, so that modern children who live far away from their grandmothers or their great-grandmothers can still hear and love these stories. In English, my favorite collection is "The Juniper Tree," with magnificent illustrations by Maurice Sendak.

Well, I don't know, there's a lot more I could say about the importance of what the Grimm Brothers did to the grown-up world of universities and professors, and if somebody asks politely, maybe I'll say a little more or a lot more. There's a reason their book was in that big marble stack of books in Berlin, and the reason is much bigger than the literature of the German language. This is the shared literature of the entire human family, at least the half that lived in the Old World.

But for right now, I'll just tell you my favorite story. You can skip directly to the English version, or, like me, you can see what you can make of the original.

I mean, look -- it's supposed to be told to a four-year-old, how hard can this be?

~ ~ ~

Der Arme Müllersbursch
und Das Kätzchen

In einer Mühle lebte ein alter Müller, der hatte weder Frau noch Kinder. Drei Müllerburschen dienten bei ihm. Als sie nun etliche Jahre bei ihm gewesen waren, sagte der Müller eines Tages zu ihnen: "Ich bin alt und will mich hinter den Ofen setzen. Zieht hinaus in die Welt, und wer mir das beste Pferd nach Hause bringt, dem will ich die Mühle geben und er soll mich dafür bis zu meinem Tod verpflegen."

Der dritte von den Burschen war der Kleinknecht. Er wurde von den anderen für dumm gehalten, und sie gönnten ihm die Mühle nicht. Als nun alle drei miteinander auszogen, sagten die zwei älteren zu dem dummen Hans: "Du kannst doch gleich hierbleiben, du kriegst dein Lebtag kein Pferd!"

Hans aber ging doch mit. Als es Nacht wurde, kamen sie zu einer Höhle und krochen hinein, um darin zu schlafen. Die zwei Klugen warteten, bis Hans eingeschlafen war, dann standen sie auf und gingen heimlich fort. Hänschen ließen sie liegen und meinten, es recht schlau gemacht zu haben. Aber es kam doch ganz anders, als sie dachten!

Als die Sonne kam und Hans erwachte, lag er in der tiefen Höhle. Er guckte sich überall um und rief.- "Ach Gott, wo bin ich?" Schließlich erhob er sich, kroch aus der Höhle, ging in den Wald und dachte: "Ich bin nun ganz allein und verlassen - wie soll ich da zu einem Pferd kommen?"

Während er so in Gedanken dahinging, begegnete ihm auf einmal ein kleines buntes Kätzchen. Es sprach freundlich: "Hans, wo willst du hin?"

"Ach, du kannst mir doch nicht helfen", antwortete Hans.

"Ich kenne deinen Wunsch", sprach das Kätzchen, "du willst ein hübsches Pferd haben. Komm mit mir und sei sieben Jahre lang mein treuer Knecht, dann will ich dir ein Pferd geben, das schöner ist, als du jemals eines gesehen hast."

"Das ist eine wunderliche Katze", dachte Hans, "aber ich will doch sehen, ob es wahr ist, was sie sagt, und mit ihr gehen." Also nahm ihn die bunte Katze mit in ihr verwunschenes Schlößchen. Da waren lauter Kätzchen, die ihr dienten. Sie sprangen flink die Treppe auf und ab, waren lustig und guter Dinge. Abends, als sie sich zu Tisch setzten, mußten drei Kätzchen Musik machen. Eines strich den Baß, das andere die Geige, das dritte setzte die Trompete an und blies die Backen auf, sosehr es nur konnte. Als sie gegessen hatten, wurde der Tisch weggetragen, und die bunte Katze sagte: "Nun komm, Hans, und tanze mit mir!"

"Nein", antwortete er, "mit einer Miezekatze tanze ich nicht, das hab' ich noch niemals getan."

"So bringt ihn ins Bett", sagte sie darauf zu den Kätzchen. Da leuchtete ihm eines in seine Schlafkammer, eines zog ihm die Schuhe aus, eines die Strümpfe, und zuletzt blies eines das Licht aus. Am anderen Morgen kamen sie wieder und halfen ihm aus dem Bett. Eines zog ihm die Strümpfe an, eines band ihm die Strumpfbänder, eines holte die Schuhe, eines wusch ihn, und eines trocknete ihm mit dem Schwanz das Gesicht ab. "Nun, hier lebt sich's ganz gut", sagte Hans zu sich selbst und war mit seinem neuen Dienst recht zufrieden.

Er mußte aber auch für die Katze arbeiten und alle Tage Holz kleinmachen. Dazu kriegte er eine Axt aus Silber, auch die Keile und die Säge waren aus Silber, und der Schläger war aus Kupfer. Damit arbeitete er fleißig und blieb in dem verwunschenen Katzenschloß. Er hatte sein gutes Essen und Trinken, sah aber niemanden als die bunte Katze und ihr Gesinde.

Einmal sagte sie zu ihm: "Geh hin, mäh meine Wiese und breite das Gras zum Trocknen aus." Sie gab ihm eine silberne Sense, einen Wetzstein aus Gold und befahl ihm, auch alles wieder richtig abzuliefern.

Hans ging hin und tat, was ihm geheißen war. Nachdem er die Arbeit beendet hatte, trug er Sense, Wetzstein und Heu nach Hause und fragte die Katze, ob sie ihm noch nicht seinen Lohn geben wollte, da die sieben Jahre nun um wären.

"Nein", sagte die Katze, "eine einzige Arbeit mußt du mir vorher noch tun: Da ist Baumaterial aus Silber, eine Zimmeraxt, ein Winkeleisen und was sonst noch nötig ist, alles aus Silber. Damit sollst du mir nun ein kleines Häuschen bauen!"

Da baute Hans dem Kätzchen ein hübsches Häuschen. Als er fertig war, sagte er, er hätte nun alles getan, sei aber noch immer zu keinem Pferd gekommen.

"Willst du vielleicht einmal meine Pferde sehen?" fragte die Katze darauf.

"Ja", sagte Hans. Da machte die Katze das Häuschen auf - da standen zwölf stolze Pferde, so glatt und blank, daß man sich darinnen spiegeln konnte. Dem Hans hüpfte bei diesem Anblick das Herz im Leibe.

Nun gab ihm das Kätzchen noch zu essen und zu trinken, dann sprach es: "Geh nun heim, dein Pferd gebe ich dir aber nicht mit. In drei Tagen komme ich und bringe es dir nach! "

So machte sich Hans auf, und die Katze zeigte ihm den Weg zur Mühle.

Sie hatte ihm aber nicht einmal ein neues Kleid gegeben, sondern er mußte sein altes, lumpiges Gewand behalten, das er mitgebracht hatte und das ihm in den sieben Jahren überall zu kurz geworden war.

Als er nun heimkam, waren die beiden anderen Müllerburschen auch wieder da. Jeder von ihnen hatte ein Pferd mitgebracht, aber einer ein blindes, der andere ein lahmes. Sie fragten: "Nun, Hans, wo hast du denn dein Pferd?"

"In drei Tagen wird es nachkommen", antwortete Hans.

Da lachten sie und sagten: "ja, du dummer Hans, wo willst du ein Pferd herkriegen! Das wird etwas Rechtes sein!"

Hans ging in die Stube. Der Müller aber sagte, er sollte nicht an den Tisch kommen, er wäre so zerrissen und zerlumpt, daß man sich mit ihm nur schämen müßte. Da gaben sie ihm ein bißchen Essen hinaus. Als sie abends schlafen gingen, wollten ihm die zwei anderen kein Bett geben.

Er mußte ins Gänseställchen kriechen und sich auf das harte Stroh legen.

Als er wieder aufwachte, waren die drei Tage bereits herum, und es kam eine Kutsche angefahren mit sechs Pferden, die glänzten, daß es eine Freude war. Ein Bedienter brachte noch ein siebentes mit, das war für Hans, den armen Müllerburschen.

Aus der Kutsche aber stieg eine schöne Königstochter. Das war niemand anderer, als das kleine bunte Kätzchen, dem der arme Hans sieben Jahre gedient hatte. Sie ging in die Mühle hinein und fragte den Müller, wo Hans, der Kleinknecht, wäre.

"Ach", sagte der Müller, "den können wir nicht in die Stube hereinlassen. Er ist so zerlumpt, daß er im Gänsestall liegen muß!"

Da sagte die Königstochter, sie sollten ihn gleich holen. Also holten sie ihn heraus, und er trat in seinem armseligen Gewand vor die Königstochter. Da packten die Bedienten prächtige Kleider aus, Hans mußte sich waschen und anziehen, und als er fertig war, konnte kein König schöner aussehen als er. Darauf verlangte die Jungfrau die Pferde zu sehen, welche die anderen Mahlburschen mitgebracht hätten.

Aber eines war blind, das andere lahm. Da heß sie von ihren Knechten das siebente Pferd hereinführen. Als der Müller das sah, sagte er: "Ei der Tausend! So ein Pferd ist mir noch nicht auf den Hof gekommen!"

"Das ist für Hans", sagte die Königstochter.

"Wenn das so ist, muß er die Mühle kriegen", sagte der Müller.

Die Königstochter aber sagte, er möge seine Mühle nur behalten. Und sie nahm ihren treuen Hans bei der Hand, setzte sich mit ihm in die Kutsche und fuhr mit ihm fort.

Zuerst fuhren sie zu dem kleinen Häuschen, das er mit dem silbernen Werkzeug gebaut hatte. Da war es ein großes Schloß geworden, außen und innen von Gold und Silber. Dann hielten sie Hochzeit, und Hans war nun reich, so reich, daß er für sein Lebtag genug hatte.

~ ~ ~

The Poor Miller's Boy
and the Cats

In a certain mill lived an old miller who had neither wife nor child, and three apprentices served under him. As they had been with him several years, he one day said to them, "I am old, and want to sit behind the stove. Go out, and whichsoever of you brings me the best horse home, to him will I give the mill, and in return for it he shall take care of me till my death."

The third of the boys, however, was the dunce, who was looked on as foolish by the others, they begrudged the mill to him, and afterwards he would not even have it. Then all three went out together, and when they came to the village, the two said to stupid Hans, "You may just as well stay here, as long as you live you will never get a horse." Hans, however, went with them, and when it was night they came to a cave in which they lay down to sleep. The two smart ones waited until Hans had fallen asleep, then they got up, and went away leaving him where he was. And they thought they had done a very clever thing, but it was certain to turn out ill for them.

When the sun rose, and Hans woke up, he was lying in a deep cavern. He looked around on every side and exclaimed, "Oh, heavens, where am I?" Then he got up and clambered out of the cave, went into the forest, and thought, "Here I am quite alone and deserted, how shall I obtain a horse now?" Whilst he was thus walking full of thought, he met a small tabby-cat which said quite kindly, "Hans, where are you going?"

"Alas, you can not help me."

"I well know your desire," said the cat. "You wish to have a beautiful horse. Come with me, and be my faithful servant for seven years long, and then I will give you one more beautiful than any you have ever seen in your whole life."

"Well, this is a strange cat," thought Hans, "But I am determined to see if she is telling the truth."

So she took him with her into her enchanted castle, where there were nothing but kittens who were her servants. They leapt nimbly upstairs and downstairs, and were merry and happy. In the evening when they sat down to dinner, three of them had to make music. One played the bass viol, the other the fiddle, and the third put the trumpet to his lips, and blew out his cheeks as much as he possibly could.

When they had dined, the table was carried away, and the cat said, "Now, Hans, come and dance with me."

"No," said he, "I won't dance with a pussycat. I have never done that yet."

"Then take him to bed," said she to the cats. So one of them lighted him to his bed-room, one pulled his shoes off, one his stockings, and at last one of them blew out the candle. Next morning they returned and helped him out of bed, one put his stockings on for him, one tied his garters, one brought his shoes, one washed him, and one dried his face with her tail.

"That feels very soft," said Hans.

He, however, had to serve the cat, and chop some wood every day, and to do that, he had an axe of silver, and the wedge and saw were of silver and the mallet of copper. So he chopped the wood small, stayed there in the house and had good meat and drink, but never saw anyone but the tabby-cat and her servants.

Once she said to him, "Go and mow my meadow, and dry the grass," and gave him a scythe of silver, and a whetstone of gold, but bade him deliver them up again carefully. So Hans went thither, and did what he was bidden, and when he had finished the work, he carried the scythe, whetstone, and hay to the house, and asked if it was not yet time for her to give him his reward. "No," said the cat, "you must first do something more for me of the same kind. There is timber of silver, carpenter's axe, square, and everything that is needful, all of silver - with these build me a small house." Then Hans built the small house, and said that he had now done everything, and still he had no horse.

Nevertheless the seven years had gone by with him as if they were six months. The cat asked him if he would like to see her horses. "Yes," said Hans. Then she opened the door of the small house, and when she had opened it, there stood twelve horses -- such horses, so bright and shining, that his heart rejoiced at the sight of them. And now she gave him something to eat and drink, and said, "Go home, I will not give you your horse now, but in three days time I will follow you and bring it." So Hans set out, and she showed him the way to the mill.

She, however, had never once given him a new coat, and he had been obliged to keep on his dirty old smock, which he had brought with him, and which during the seven years had everywhere become too small for him. When he reached home, the two other apprentices were there again as well, and each of them certainly had brought a horse with him, but one of them was a blind one, and the other lame. They asked Hans where his horse was. "It will follow me in three days, time."

Then they laughed and said, "Indeed, stupid Hans, where will you get a horse?" "It will be a fine one." Hans went into the parlor, but the miller said he should not sit down to table, for he was so ragged and torn, that they would all be ashamed of him if any one came in. So they gave him a mouthful of food outside, and at night, when they went to rest, the two others would not let him have a bed, and at last he was forced to creep into the goose-house, and lie down on a little hard straw.

In the morning when he awoke, the three days had passed, and a coach came with six horses and they shone so bright that it was delightful to see them - and a servant brought a seventh as well, which was for the poor miller's boy. And a magnificent princess alighted from the coach and went into the mill, and this princess was the little tabby-cat whom poor Hans had served for seven years. She asked the miller where the miller's boy and dunce was. Then the miller said, "We cannot have him here in the mill, for he is so ragged, he is lying in the goose-house." Then the king's daughter said that they were to bring him immediately.

So they brought him out, and he had to hold his little smock together to cover himself. The servants unpacked splendid garments, and washed him and dressed him, and when that was done, no king could have looked more handsome. Then the maiden desired to see the horses which the other apprentices had brought home with them, and one of them was blind and the other lame. So she ordered the servant to bring the seventh horse, and when the miller saw it, he said that such a horse as that had never yet entered his yard. "And that is for the third miller's boy," said she.

"Then he must have the mill," said the miller, but the king's daughter said that the horse was there, and that he was to keep his mill as well, and took her faithful Hans and set him in the coach, and drove away with him.

They first drove to the little house which he had built with the silver tools, and behold it was a great castle, and everything inside it was of silver and gold, and then she married him, and he was rich, so rich that he had enough for all the rest of his life.

After this, let no one ever say that anyone who is silly can never become a person of importance.