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The episode of fools securing a door by taking it with them is classified as Aarne-Thompson-Uther type 1653A. The episode of the robbers under the tree is classified as type 1653. Return to the table of contents.On an Old WomanGermany, Heinrich BebelA poor traveler who was on his way to study in Paris was asked by an old woman where he was going. He answered "To Paris," but she understood "Paradise." She then told him about her husband, who had died a few days earlier, and asked the traveler if he would be willing to take some clothes, money, and other things to him. The traveler took everything that the old woman gave him and went on his way. Now supplied with many of life's necessities, he became a successful man. Source (books.google.com): Heinrich Bebel, "Von eim alten Weib," Heinrich Bebels Schwänke, edited by Albert Wesselski, vol. 1 (Munich and Leipzig: Georg Müller, 1907), p. 69. Source (Internet Archive): Heinrich Bebel, "Von eim alten Weib," Heinrich Bebels Schwänke, edited by Albert Wesselski, vol. 1 (Munich and Leipzig: Georg Müller, 1907), p. 69. Heinrich Bebel (1472-1518) was a German humanist. Return to the table of contents. The Travelling Scholar from ParadiseGermany, Hans SachsTHE TRAVELLING SCHOLAR FROM PARADISE[October 8, 1550]THE PERSONS.The Travelling Scholar.The Farmer.The Farmer's Wife.Wife My breath is burdened with my sighs, While thoughts of bygone days arise When my first husband lived. Ah me, He loved me dearly, tenderly. As I loved him! He was most kind. Honest in thought, and calm in mind: With him the gladness of my life Died out though I became a wife Again, and try, through weary days, To love my man. Alas, always Remembrance comes to mar my plan! He is not like my first good man: This one is parsimonious, stern. Anxious more money still to earn; He would be rich; for mirth cares not -- Alas, how weary is my lot. Thinking of him now lost to me! Would I could show my memory To him, who made me laugh and sing! Oh, I would give him everything! [The Travelling Scholar comes.] Scholar Dear mother, pray may I come in? I would thy commendation win. Thy charitable hand and alms; I have much skill and many charms From books, and Venus' mountain know. Where I have Cupids seen, and so Can tell of marvels. Now I go Throughout the land, and to and fro; A traveller upon my way From Paris, here I may not stay --Wife Dear sir! Dear sir! What dost thou say? From Paradise thou cam'st? I pray, Dear sir, thou wilt to me declare If thou didst see my husband there? He died -- O God, why was it so -- To my sore grief, a year ago. He was so honest, gentle, wise, I hope that he found Paradise. Scholar There were so many fair souls there! -- Tell me, what garments did he wear When he passed to eternity? And this may stir my memory. Wife Easy it is to tell thee this -- I hope that he is now in bliss! -- He wore a blue hat, and his dress A winding sheet, no more, nor less: The winding sheet was not so bad; I wish he had been better clad. Scholar Oh, my good dame, yes: that blue hat! How well do I remember that! No trowsers, shirt, nor shoes, he had; Just in his grave-cloth; it was sad: Howe'er he might that blue hat cock. And wrap his sheet, it was a mock. When others ate he could not join -- He had no heller, not a coin -- He looked at them with longing face. And lingered much about the place; Unless an alms some good soul gives The Lord alone knows how he lives! Good dame, it grieves me much to say He is in such a wretched wav. Wife Dear husband! What hard fate he hath. Not e'en a pfennig for a bath! How pitiful! What grief to me He in such poverty should be! Tell me, dear sir, more thanks to earn, Dost thou to Paradise return? Scholar Tomorrow I set forth, and fare For fourteen days, to bring me there. Wife Wilt thou a bundle from me bear, For my dear husband, with all care? Scholar Gladly will I; but do not waste My time; I am in utmost haste. Wife Dear sir, have patience: I will be But a short time while hurriedly I gather up such things as he May use in his necessity. [The Wife goes out.] Scholar She is a simple soul, and kind -- Too good to cheat -- but I must find Money and clothing, which I need; Then I will go away with speed Before her husband comes; for he May lack his wife's simplicity; So would he spoil the thing for me; Therefore I go while yet I can Become the heir of this dead man. [The Wife brings in a bundle.] Wife Good messenger, I beg of thee, Take these twelve gulden now from me -- This money so long hid away, My little all, for a dark day -- Take it, dear sir, to him, I pray. With this my hoard I gladly part To the true husband of my heart; The bundle, too, I pray thee, take To my dear husband for his sake: Therein are blue cloth, hose and shoes; The cloth he surely there can use For coat and trowsers: and, with these, Pocket and pocket-knife will please. Tell him, the next time I will try To send him a more full supply; For I will save up all I can. Thinking of him, my dear, good man. Now go at once, that sooner he May be relieved from poverty. [The Travelling Scholar takes up the bundle.] Scholar How will thy husband gaily think. When, on a feast-day, he will drink With friends his quart, how dear is she Who sends this cheer and revelry! Wife How long, dear messenger, I pray, Will be the time thou art away? Scholar It may be long: it cannot be That I shall come quite speedily. Wife Alas! if very long away His money will be spent: no play, Nor food, nor drink, nor bath! Alas, That this too soon may come to pass! This groschen is my last; take it; I have no more of coin, nor wit. When threshing time is o'er I can Steal some odd coins from my good man, And bury them, as once before. Just at inside of stable door; There they are safe -- my gulden fair I kept for months in safety there -- Accept this thaler for thy pay: Say greetings to my good man, pray! [The Travelling Scholar goes out.] Wife (singing) Peasant maiden, Love is bright; He may come to thee, tonight. Peasant maiden. Love is sweet; He may kneel before thy feet. Peasant wife, put Love away; He cares not for thee today. Farmer Dame, thou art merry: pray thee tell What is it pleaseth thee so well? Wife Dear husband, O rejoice with me! I tell my happiness to thee: Farmer Who hit this fool-calf in the eye? [A common inquiry among the peasantry, in the time of this drama, when one appeared unaccountably excited.] Wife It is a marvel! Passing by, A scholar stopped and spoke with me: From Paradise quite recently He wandered hither; and he told Of my first husband, poor and old: He only has his old blue hat And winding sheet. Oh, think of that! He hath no money, coat, nor shoes; No hose, nor anything to use Save hat and sheet -- no, nothing save What he took with him to the grave. Farmer Wilt thou not send him something fit? Wife Dear husband, yes; I thought of it: I sent our blue cloth, shirt and hose, And breeches. He doth need the clothes. I sent a gulden, too, that he Might not without a groschen be. Farmer Thou hast done well. But which way went The man by whom thy gifts were sent? Wife He went by the Low Road, and bore The bundle on his back. He wore Around his neck a yellow net. Farmer Yes, wife; and I will find him yet; Thou hast done well to give the stuff; But, of the money, not enough -- Not near enough; it will not last. Have my horse saddled to go fast. And I will ride the Low Road o'er. And give the man ten gulden more. Wife Before all things do I thank thee. That thou art now so good to me And my old husband. Tenderly I will deserve this love. Indeed All of my savings, in thy need, I'll give -- Farmer Cease babbling now to me! Have my horse saddled instantly, Or, in the fen-land, he will be Forever lost to me and thee. [The Wife goes out.] Farmer Ach Gott, how weak a wife have I! That she is fair none will deny; She cooks a sausage, cleans a dish, But, in her mind, is a stock-fish: Half fool! yes; more a fool than any Fools of our parish, who are many. She sends her husband, dead a year, Money and clothes, and hath no fear The scholar hath deceived her. Ah! To catch the rogue will I ride far; Then I will beat the rascal well, So each big bruise will surely tell That Paradise he hath not found; Then, while he grovels on the ground, Money and clothes will I retake, And bear them home. For safety's sake My wife must feel my fists; if she Have black eyes, to remember me And her own folly, it may be A lesson. Through her foolishness My fortune must grow less and less. Alas, that I, to please my eyes, Married this useless, comely prize! I shall repent me all my days: If she had shrewd though drunken ways, So were she better, and might be More of a helpmate unto me. [The Wife comes in.] Wife The horse is ready: mount! away! And God go with thee through the day! [The Farmer and his Wife go out ; the Travelling Scholar comes in with his pack.] Scholar How Fortune bids my star arise! Puts in my hand unlooked-for prize! Now I can live the winter through -- And there are other women, too. Foolish as this, who will as well Believe each tale that I may tell -- Others, like this, not over-wise. Who will send me to Paradise -- Odd-bobs! Here comes one riding fast; Behind the hedge my pack I cast; I doubt not this good man would take Bundle and coin for his wife's sake; He may not promptly be deceived; Nor his wife's Paradise believed. He cannot ride across the moor; The fen-land swamp would bog him sore -- Ah! he dismounts. I put away My net; and wait what he may say. Leaning on my poor stick, who can Suspect I am no peasant man? [The Farmer comes in with spurs on.] Farmer Good luck, my man! In this wild waste Hast seen one running in hot haste, With yellow neck-net? On his back A bundle blue, Uke peddler's pack ? Scholar Oh, yes ; I saw him passing here; He crossed the moor like hunted deer; Across the moor, and to the wood; A moment, resting there, he stood; Through these scrub bushes went his track; He had a bundle on his back; Weary he seemed as on he ran; You quickly may o'ertake the man. Farmer Upon my oath, it must be he! Good fellow, hold my horse for me; Through this soft moss I needs must run. To catch this crafty, thievish one; Then will I beat him black and blue -- A beating that he long shall rue. If he live long, which much I doubt. Hold fast the horse till I come out. Scholar I wait a priest, and so shall stay Until he soon may pass this way; I gladly hold your horse's rein If you will soon be back again. Farmer Earn thus a kreuzer. I am strong: Catching this thief will not take long. Scholar Go swiftly on, the moor across; And have no fear about your horse. [The Farmer goes out] Welcome is this fine horse to me: Fair Fortune smiles most graciously. And brings good luck still in my way; This is, indeed, my lucky day! The simple wife gave clothes and gold; Her husband gives his horse -- to hold; Which I will do: I need not walk; The man is kind, for all his talk: He sees I am a lazy man. And so he helps me all he can. The bog is dangerous and deep, And the safe pathway hard to keep; Unless he choose his footsteps nice He will be first in Paradise; For should he here a misstep make It were the last that he would take. Now I will strap my pack across The back of this convenient horse; I care not here to make long stay; But speedily will ride away. This husband will have searched in vain, And soon, perchance, be back again; He might be in such surly mood. My acts would be misunderstood; So, laden with my good supplies, I spur away to Paradise. While he still seeks his horse to win, I eat my roast fowl at an inn. [The Travelling Student rides off with his pack. The Wife comes in.] Wife It is a lonesome time today! Oh wherefore doth my husband stay! I fear that he has lost his way In bogs, so my old husband may Suffer in want from long delay -- I hear the evening pipe's loud blast; And home the pigs are running fast. [The Wife goes out, and the Farmer comes in and looks around.] Farmer Odds-bobs! Where is my horse? Not here? What a wise man am I! 'Tis clear: The rascal that deceived my wife Has now my horse. Upon my life, He has our money, clothes and horse, And I am left with triple loss! To trust that lying rogue, am I The biggest fool beneath the sky! Here comes my wife, and looks for me; I dare not tell this history: I threatened her with beating sore; Now I deserve that beating more; She lost the clothes -- small loss indeed -- But I have lost my good grey steed. She to no stratagems was schooled. While I suspected, yet was fooled. When I have thought a fool was she, I wise, it seems two fools are we. [The Wife comes in.] Wife On foot? Then thy good horse is sold. Found'st thou the man? and gav'st the gold? Farmer He said the way was very long, And he was weary, and not strong: So I gave up my horse that he In Paradise might sooner be: Thus will thy husband have our help And my good horse to ride, himself. Say, wife, have I in this done right? I sought to help thy man's sad plight. Wife Indeed thou hast. My husband, dear, I have not rightly known, I fear. Thy faithful heart. I do not jest: If thou wert dead, indeed my best I then would do to send to thee In Paradise, that thou might'st be Contented there: I would resign Goose, calf and pig, clothes, all our coin, Whatever useful thing was mine. That thou should'st know my faithful heart. How with my treasures I would part, That thus thou mightest have the best, Happy in Paradise to rest. Farmer I trust that here I long may stay. Nor need such help; but, wife, I pray. Of what has happened, nothing say. Wife Through all the village it is known. Farmer Who hath the news so quickly sown? Wife When thou wert gone, most gratefully I told our friends how good to me Thou art, of Paradise, and how My dear old husband is there now; How, by a messenger most wise, I sent him things to Paradise. It seemed that people laughed at me, And took the matter merrily. Farmer The Devil take their pleasantry, That dares to make a scoff of thee! -- Scoff of my wife! Dear God, I pray For patience! -- Hasten, wife, away, And bring a bowl of milk to me. Wife Yes, husband; follow presently. [The Wife goes out.]Farmer Why do I thus complain? My fate Hath given me a fool for mate; But yet a faithful fool. 'Tis true That lack of sense is nothing new; But she is silly past belief, And, for this fault, is no relief: I constantly must hold her rein. And her simplicity restrain; Must bear with her, for e'en today My foot from stirrup slipped away: Who doth the shuttlecock let fall Should not another clumsy call. Better it is I proved a fool, So cannot make a cruel rule, For, in her heart, she is so kind, My own to softness is inclined. Who falls a victim to deceit Should not find fault when others meet The like misfortune; but forgive, That all in peacefulness may live: Kind charity for faulty acts Redeems our own, remarks Hans Sachs. Source (Internet Archive): Hans Sachs, Merry Tales and Three Shrovetide Plays, translated into English verse by William Leighton (London: David Nutt, 1910), pp. 223-38. Link to the text in the original German (1550): Der farendt Schuler im Paradeis. Return to the table of contents. The Clever PeopleGermanyOne day a peasant took his good hazel stick out of the corner and said to his wife, "Trina, I am going across country, and shall not return for three days. If during that time the cattle dealer should happen to call and want to buy our three cows, you may strike a bargain at once, but not unless you can get two hundred talers for them, nothing less, do you hear." 2b1af7f3a8