When
he hit her he laughed, and when he missed her, he stormed and swore. This went on so long that the neighbors came to the wife’s assistance. The tailor was again summoned before the magistrates, and reminded of
his promise. “Dear gentlemen,” said he, “I have kept my word, I have
not beaten her, but have shared joy and sorrow with her.” “How can that
be,” said the judge, “when she continually brings such heavy complaints
against you?” “I have not beaten her, but just because she looked so
strange I wanted to comb her hair with my hand; she, however, got away
from me, and left me quite spitefully. Then I hurried after her, and in
order to bring her back to her duty, I threw at her as a well-meant
admonition whatever came readily to hand. I have shared joy and sorrow
with her also, for whenever I hit her I was full of joy, and she of
sorrow, and if I missed her, then she was joyful, and I sorry.” The
judges were not satisfied with this answer, but gave him the reward he
deserved. 171 The Willow-Wren

In former days every sound still had its meaning and application. When
the smith’s hammer resounded, it cried, “Strike away! strike away.”
When the carpenter’s plane grated, it said, “Here goes! here goes.” If
the mill wheel began to clack, it said, “Help, Lord God! help, Lord
God!” And if the miller was a cheat and happened to leave the mill, it
spoke high German, and first asked slowly, “Who is there? Who is
there?” and then answered quickly, “The miller! the miller!” and at
last quite in a hurry, “He steals bravely! he steals bravely! three
pecks in a bushel.”

At this time the birds also had their own language which every one
understood; now it only sounds like chirping, screeching, and
whistling, and to some like music without words. It came into the
bird’s mind, however, that they would no longer be without a ruler, and
would choose one of themselves to be their King. One alone amongst
them, the green plover, was opposed to this. He had lived free, and
would die free, and anxiously flying hither and thither, he cried,
“Where shall I go? where shall I go?” He retired into a solitary and
unfrequented marsh, and showed himself no more among his fellows. The birds now wished to discuss the matter, and on a fine May morning
they all gathered together from the woods and fields: eagles and
chaffinches, owls and crows, larks and sparrows, how can I name them
all? Even the cuckoo came, and the hoopoe, his clerk, who is so called
because he is always heard a few days before him, and a very small bird
which as yet had no name, mingled with the band. The hen, which by some
accident had heard nothing of the whole matter, was astonished at the
great assemblage. “What, what, what is going to be done?” she cackled;
but the cock calmed his beloved hen, and said, “Only rich people,” and
told her what they had on hand. It was decided, however, that the one
who could fly the highest should be King. A tree-frog which was sitting
among the bushes, when he heard that, cried a warning, “No, no, no! no!” because he thought that many tears would be shed because of this;
but the crow said, “Caw, caw,” and that all would pass off peaceably. It was now determined that on this fine morning they should at once
begin to ascend, so that hereafter no one should be able to say, “I
could easily have flown much higher, but the evening came on, and I
could do no more.” On a given signal, therefore, the whole troop rose
up in the air. The dust ascended from the land, and there was
tremendous fluttering and whirring and beating of wings, and it looked
as if a black cloud was rising up. The little birds were, however, soon
left behind. They could go no farther, and fell back to the ground. The
larger birds held out longer, but none could equal the eagle, who
mounted so high that he could have picked the eyes out of the sun. And
when he saw that the others could not get up to him, he thought, “Why
shouldst thou fly still higher, thou art the King?” and began to let
himself down again. The birds beneath him at once cried to him. “Thou
must be our King, no one has flown so high as thou.” “Except me,”
screamed the little fellow without a name, who had crept into the
breast-feathers of the eagle. And as he was not at all tired, he rose
up and mounted so high that he reached heaven itself. When, however, he
had gone as far as this, he folded his wings together, and called down
with clear and penetrating voice, “I am King! I am King.”

“Thou, our King?” cried the birds angrily. “Thou hast compassed it by
trick and cunning!” So they made another condition. He should be King
who could go down lowest in the ground. How the goose did flap about
with its broad breast when it was once more on the land! How quickly
the cock scratched a hole! The duck came off the worst of all, for she
leapt into a ditch, but sprained her legs, and waddled away to a
neighboring pond, crying, “Cheating, cheating!” The little bird without
a name, however, sought out a mouse-hole, slipped down into it, and
cried out of it with his small voice, “I am King! I am King!”

“Thou our King!” cried the birds still more angrily. “Dost thou think
thy cunning shall prevail?” They determined to keep him a prisoner in
the hole and starve him out. The owl was placed as sentinel in front of
it, and was not to let the rascal out if she had any value for her
life. When evening was come all the birds were feeling very tired after
exerting their wings so much, so they went to bed with their wives and
children. The owl alone remained standing by the mouse-hole, gazing
steadfastly into it with her great eyes. In the meantime she, too, had
grown tired and thought to herself, “You might certainly shut one eye,
you will still watch with the other, and the little miscreant shall not
come out of his hole.” So she shut one eye, and with the other looked
straight at the mouse-hole. The little fellow put his head out and
peeped, and wanted to slip away, but the owl came forward immediately,
and he drew his head back again. Then the owl opened the one eye again,
and shut the other, intending to shut them in turn all through the
night. But when she next shut the one eye, she forgot to open the other, and
as soon as both her eyes were shut she fell asleep. The little fellow
soon observed that, and slipped away. From that day forth, the owl has never dared to show herself by
daylight, for if she does the other birds chase her and pluck her
feathers out. She only flies out by night, but hates and pursues mice
because they make such ugly holes. The little bird, too, is very
unwilling to let himself be seen, because he is afraid it will cost him
his life if he is caught. He steals about in the hedges, and when he is
quite safe, he sometimes cries, “I am King,” and for this reason, the
other birds call him in mockery, ‘King of the hedges’ (Zaunkönig). No
one, however, was so happy as the lark at not having to obey the little
King.