Then Honest Heinrich took his fiddle and played. One stroke with the bow, and all the people began to wabble. Another stroke, and every one lifted up his right leg. A third stroke, and the dancing began in earnest. The judge, the clergyman, the doctor, the hangman, the Jew, women with their babies in their arms, ladies with their smelling-bottles in their hands; in short, every one present, old and young, danced with the utmost exertion. Even the very dogs which had followed their masters, raised themselves upon their hind-legs and danced, profusely perspiring like all the people.
"Hold! stop! hold!" cried the exhausted judge, "Thy life is spared; only put aside that dreadful fiddle!"
As soon as Honest Heinrich heard the judge's promise of acquittal he ceased playing and came down the steps from the gallows. At the foot of the steps he found the Jew lying prostrate on his back. "Confess directly," said Honest Heinrich, "how you came by the bag of money, or I shall give you a little private performance, with a brilliant cadence at the end, you know!" In a moment the alarmed Jew stood upon his legs again, and exclaimed, "Upon my honour, I stole it!"
Then they hanged the Jew upon the gallows. As for Honest Heinrich, he continued his wanderings in the world, and soon made his fortune. When he had become rich, he went home again to his village, and courted his neighbour's daughter, who had formerly jilted him when he was poor, but who loved him now dearly, not because he was rich (she said) but on account of his former poverty. Soon they married, and were happy ever after.
THE POPE'S WIFE.
There are several modifications current of the story of the Jew in the Thicket just told. A similar story which in olden time was popular in England, is given under the heading 'A Mery Geste of the Frere and the Boye,' in Ritson's Pieces of Ancient Popular Poetry, London, 1791. Again, a somewhat similar story is current in Greece. A lad has a flute given to him by some superhuman being. He goes to the market-place of the town, where piles of crockery are exhibited for sale. As soon as he begins to play, all the pots, jugs and basins fly about in the air and clash against each other until they are broken to pieces. The personage whom he compels to dance in the thorns is a priest.[74]
Perhaps the most tragic incident of this kind is the sad fate of the Pope's wife, related by the Wallachians. It need scarcely be said that it does not concern the Pope of Rome, who, as everyone knows, has no wife. But in Wallachia the common village priest of the Greek Church is called Pope, and may marry. He generally avails himself of the permission.
As regards Bakâla, whose music, as we shall presently see, killed the Pope's wife, various tricks of his are on record, which clearly show that he was a great fool, somewhat resembling the German Till Eulenspiegel, who had perhaps more happy ideas than many persons who have passed for wise.
Well, Bakâla, one fine day, took it into his head to ascend a high mountain, merely for pleasure, and for the sake of boasting. Arrived at the top of the mountain he was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of a well-disposed spirit, who offered him a present from the clouds. The articles from which Bakâla was invited to select a keepsake looked mean and shabby, like those which people generally consign to the lumber-room. Bakâla, however, examined them carefully, and chose an old and dusty bagpipe; for he imagined, as some people are apt to do, that he was madly fond of music. Moreover, the sound of the bagpipe—this Bakâla soon discovered—had the power of making everyone dance.
When Bakâla had come down from the mountain he engaged himself as shepherd to a village Pope in the valley. Every day he led the sheep into the fields, and blowing his bagpipe he made them caper and jump into the air like grasshoppers. And when, one morning, his master had sneaked out before him into the fields, and had hid himself in some bushes of sloes and dog-roses to watch his servant's strange proceedings, Bakâla made the Pope dance as well as his flock.