THE GOLDEN PEARS
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