There was once a poor peasant of Bürs who had nothing in the world but
three sons, and a pear-tree that grew in front of his cottage. But the
pears were very fine, and the Kaiser was fond of the fruit, so he said to
his sons, one day, that he would send the Kaiser a basket as a present.
“Perhaps,” said he, “if the fruit please him he may help me and mine.”
He plaited a krattle, or basket, and lined it with fresh leaves. Then he
gathered the finest pears from the tree, large ones as yellow as gold,
and laid them on the green leaves.
“Take these to the Kaiser,” said he to his eldest son, “and see that thou
dost not let anyone rob thee of them by the way.”
“Leave that to me, father,” said the boy, “I know how to take care of
my own. It isn’t much anyone will get out of me by asking. I’ll have my
answer, I can tell you.” So he closed up the mouth of the basket with
fresh leaves and set out to take the pears to the Kaiser.
It was autumn and the sun struck hot all through the midday hours; so
when the boy came at last to a wayside fountain he stopped to drink and
to rest in its coolness. A little doubled-up old woman was washing some
rags at the fountain and singing a ditty all out of tune. “A witch, I’ll
be bound,” said the boy to himself, “she’ll be trying to get my pears, by
hook or by crook, but I’ll be up to her.”
“A fair day, my lad,” said the little old wife; “that’s a weighty burden
you have to carry. What may it be with which you are so heavily laden?”
“A load of sweepings from the road, to see whether I may turn a penny by
it,” answered the boy, shortly, to stop any further questioning.
“Road-sweepings,” repeated the hag, as if she did not believe it. “Belike
you don’t mean that?”
“But I _do_ mean it,” retorted the boy.
“Oh, very well. You will find out when you get to your journey’s end.”
And she went on washing and singing her ditty that was all out of tune.
“She means something,” said the boy to himself, “that’s clear. But at all
events my basket is safe. I haven’t even let her look at the fruit with
her evil eye, so there’s no harm done.” But he felt uneasy, and as he
could not rest, he got up and went on his way.
Soon he reached the palace, and on telling his errand was admitted.
“You have brought me some pears, have you, my boy?” said the Kaiser, well
pleased; and his mouth began to water for the luscious fruit.
“Yes, your Majesty, some of the finest golden pears in your Majesty’s
whole empire,” said the boy.
The Kaiser was delighted to hear this and he himself removed the
covering of leaves. But what was his anger to find under it nothing but
ill-smelling sweepings from the road! The attendants, who stood by, were
equally indignant at the insult offered to the emperor, and barely waited
for his order to hustle the boy off to prison.
“It is all due to that old hag by the fountain,” said he to himself; “I
thought she meant mischief to me.” This was what he said the first day
and the second, but the quiet and solitude of the prison led him to think
more closely and to remember the answer he had made to the old wife’s
question.
“I have often heard my father say,” he thought, “how strong truth makes
the tongue. Alas, that I did not use it as a weapon to take care of my
own.”
Meantime the father said to his two sons, “You see how well your elder
brother has fared. He kept his eyes wide awake and carried the krattle of
golden fruit in safety to the Kaiser, who was no doubt so well pleased
with it that he has kept the boy near his person and made him a rich
man.”
“I am as clever as he,” said the second brother; “give me a krattle of
the pears and let me take them to the Kaiser, and become a rich man too,
only I won’t keep it all for myself. I will send for you to share it with
me.”
“Well said, my son,” answered the father; “I have worked hard for you all
my life, and it is but meet that in my old age you should share your good
fortune with me.” And as the season for pears had just come around again,
he plaited another krattle and lined it with fresh green leaves and laid
in it a goodly heap of the golden fruit.
The second son took the basket and went his way, even in better spirits
than his elder brother, for he had the supposed success of the first to
give wings to his feet. The autumn sun was as hot through the midday as
it had been the year before, so that when he had traveled three days and
arrived at the wayside fountain, he too stopped to drink and rest in its
coolness. The doubled-up old woman was washing her rags at the fountain
and singing her ditty all out of tune. She stopped her croaking as
before, to ask him the same question as she had asked his brother.
“It’s pigs’ wash,” said he; “I am taking it to see whether I may turn a
penny by it.”
“Pigs’ wash,” repeated she, as if she did not believe it. “Belike you
don’t mean that?”
“But I do mean it,” retorted he, rudely.
And at this she made the same remark she had made his brother.
Sure enough, when the Kaiser removed the leaves, instead of golden pears
there was a mess of pigs’ wash. The attendants hurried the second boy off
to the cell next his brother, and pitched him in with even less ceremony.
Meantime the year was passing away and bringing no tidings to the father
of the good fortune promised him by his son. “The ingratitude of children
is like a sharp sting,” said he, in the bitterness of his grief and
disappointment. He would often say to his third son, who was considered
too stupid to be good for much, “What a pity it is that you are so
dull-headed! If I only dared trust you I might send you to see what has
befallen your brothers.”
The lad was used to hear himself called a good-for-nothing, so he did not
think for a long time that he might even attempt the task. But as the
days went by and his father’s distress grew more sore, his loving heart
was moved, and one day he summoned courage to ask whether he might not
try to find his brothers.
“Do you really think you can keep yourself out of harm’s way?” exclaimed
the father, glad to find the boy anxious to undertake the venture.
“I will do whatever you tell me,” said the lad, eagerly.
“Well, you sha’n’t go empty-handed, at all events,” said the father. And
as the pears were just ripe again he laid the choicest of the year’s
stock in a krattle and sent him on his way.
The boy walked along, looking neither to right nor left, but with his
heart beating, lest he should come across the “Harm” out of whose way he
had promised to keep himself. All went well, however, except that the
sun shone down on him fiercely, so that when he too reached the wayside
fountain he was glad to stop to drink and rest in the coolness.
The old wife was washing her rags in the water, and as she patted the
linen, singing a ditty all out of tune. “Here comes a third of those
surly dogs, I declare,” she said to herself, as she saw him arrive with
another load of the magnificent pears. “I suppose he’ll try to make game
of me too as if I didn’t know the sweet smell of ripe golden pears from
road-sweepings or pigs’ wash! a likely thing! But I’m ready for him.”
“Good morning, little mother!” said the boy in his direct way, doffing
his cap as he had been taught, although she was old and ugly.
“He’s sweeter behaved than the other louts, for all he doesn’t look so
bright-faced,” said the hag to herself; and she stopped her song out of
tune to return his greeting.
“May I sit down here a bit, please, good mother?” asked the boy, for he
was so simple that he thought the fountain must belong to her.
“That you may, and take a draught of the cool water, too,” she answered,
wondrously softened by his civil manners.
“And what may it be with which you are so laden, my pretty boy?” she
asked. “It should be a precious burden to be worth carrying so far as you
appear to have come. What have you in your krattle?”
“Precious indeed they are, I believe you,” said the boy, “at least so you
would think from the store my father sets by them. They are truly golden
pears, and he says there are no finer grown in the whole kingdom. I am
taking them to the Kaiser, who is fond of the fruit.”
“Only ripe pears and yet so heavy,” returned the old wife; “one would say
it is something heavier than pears. But you’ll see when you come to your
journey’s end.”
The boy assured her they were nothing but pears; and as one of his
father’s commands had been not to lose time by the way, he bade the old
dame a courteous farewell and continued on his way.
When the servants saw another peasant boy from Bürs come to the palace
with the story that he had pears for the king, they said, “No, no! we’ve
had enough of that! You may turn around and go back.” But the poor boy
was so disappointed that he could not carry out his task that he sank
down on the step and sobbed bitterly, and there he remained sobbing till
the Kaiser came out.
The Kaiser’s little daughter was with her father. When she saw the boy
sobbing, she asked what ailed him, and learned it was another boy from
Bürs come to insult the Kaiser with a basket of refuse. And the servants
asked her whether they should not take the boy off to prison straightway.
The Kaiser left the question to his daughter.
“But I _have_ pears,” sobbed the boy; “and my father says there are no
finer in the empire.”
“Yes, yes,” jeered the servants, “we know that by heart;” and they
attempted to drag him away.
“But won’t you look at my pears first, fair princess? The pears that I
have brought all this way for the Kaiser? My father will be so sorry.”
The princess was struck with the earnestness with which he spoke, and
decided to see the basket herself. The moment she said so the boy walked
straight up to her with his krattle, so strong in the truth that he felt
no fear of the whole troop of lackeys.
The princess removed the leaves and—there indeed were golden pears, not
merely yellow with ripeness, but really gold, each, large as it was, a
shining pear of solid gold!
“These _are_ pears fit for a king,” she said, and presented them to her
father. The Kaiser was greatly pleased. He ordered the gold fruit to
be placed in his cabinet of treasures, and to the boy, as a reward, he
promised whatever he should ask.
“All I wish is to find my two brothers, who hold some high office in your
Majesty’s court,” said the boy.
“If those who came with pears before are your brothers, as I suspect,
they hold office in prison,” said the Kaiser, and commanded that they
be brought. As soon as the two were led in, the third ran to them and
embraced them. Then the Kaiser bade each tell his story.
“Strong indeed does truth make the tongue to keep its own,” said the
Kaiser, using almost the same words the boys had often heard their father
speak. And they were truly sorry they had not kept his counsel.
The Kaiser sent for the father and gave him and his sons charge of the
king’s gardens. The father brought with him the pear-tree that, by the
power of the truth told of it, had made golden fortune for them. And he
and his sons had plenty ever after and were well content.
—FOLK TALE