Today is Pied Piper Day
Once upon a time, a town lying between a river and a mountain had an unsurmountable problem with rats.
They fought the dogs, and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And eat the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cooks’ own ladles,
Split open the kegs of salted sprats,
Made nests inside men’s Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women’s chats
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.*
The mayor and the city council were at their wits’ end because in spite of everything they tried to get rid of the rats, the town was still overrun with them. The mayor put it this way:
Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!
Just as he said this, what should hap
At the chamber door but a gentle tap?
Bless us, cried the Mayor, what’s that?
Come in! — the Mayor cried, looking bigger:
And in did come the strangest figure!
His queer long coat from heel to head
Was half of yellow and half of red;
And he himself was tall and thin,
With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,
And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin,
No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin,
But lips where smiles went out and in.*
The strange-looking man said he a secret charm that draws every creature to him, especially those that do people harm. He said he could use that charm to rid the town of all its rats — if given a handsome fee.
If I can rid your town of rats
Will you give me a thousand guilders?
One? Fifty thousand! — was the exclamation
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
The piper went out of the door and into the street. He blew three shrill notes on his pipe. Immediately, there was the sound of muttering.
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives —
Followed the Piper for their lives.
The piper led them down the street and to the river, where they all drowned.
You should have heard the Hamelin people
Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple;
Go, cried the Mayor, and get long poles!
Poke out the nests and block up the holes!
Consult with carpenters and builders,
And leave in our town not even a trace
of the rats! When suddenly up, the face
of the Piper perked in the market-place,
With a First, if you please, my thousand guilders!
With the town’s problem solved, the Mayor claimed that a thousand guilders was just a joke and was too much money just for playing a pipe for a few minutes. He said the entire town knows the river killed the rats, not you, but to be a nice guy, he’d give the piper fifty guilders. Insults flew back and forth and the piper hinted that he might retaliate if he didn’t get his thousand guilders. The Mayor wouldn’t give an inch.
You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
Blow your pipe there till you burst!
The piper stepped into the street and this time blew three sweet, soft notes.
There was a rustling, that seem’d like a bustling
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering,
And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering,
Out came the children running.
All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
Dumfounded, the mayor and the councilmen were unable to move. It was if they had turned to stone. Helpless, they watched as magically, a portal opened in the side of the mountain. The piper led the dancing children through the opening and the door slammed shut behind them.
The mayor sent people out to look for the piper, and when they found him, to offer him silver and gold to his heart’s if he would bring the children back. The piper refused. The children never returned and all the city had left was sadness.
–The Pied Piper of Hamlin by Robert Browning
Hamelin, Lower Saxony, Germany
The town of Hamelin lies north of Stuttgart and east of Amsterdam. During World War Two, Hamelin Prison held criminals and political prisoners, hundreds of whom died in custody. After the war, the prison was the place where 156 Germans convicted of committing war crimes were hanged. in 1993 it was turned into a hotel.
Today the Pied Piper is a fun guy
Tourists love Michael Boyer. Every day, he gets into costume, grabs his flute, does meet-and-greets with visiting dignitaries, and entertains the tourists. Many of the visitors think Boyer is a superhero, court jester, or Robin Hood.
The town is as full of the Pied Piper as it once was with rats
Take in the Hamelin Museum, the Pied Piper House, the Pied Piper Open-Air Play, the Pied Piper Theater’s video enactments, and RATS (the Pied Piper Musical). Sounds a little like Dollywood, doesn’t it? Gift shops sell more rat-themed items than you can shake a stick at, bäckereis sell rodent-shaped breads and cookies, and restaurants sell a thinly-sliced pork dish called Rat Tails.
Rat murals, bronze sculptures, and a statue of the Pied Piper in the village square
The cobblestone streets are full of painted and sculpted rats.
Tourists follow the rats’ maze through tiny, winding alleyways to the town’s main attractions. This twisting and turning rat trail is lined with inns, cafes, shops, and beer gardens. At last the lab rats in college turn the tables, snickering somewhere while the tourists run the maze.
Some people believe this fairytale is connected with the mysterious disappearance of 130 Hamelin children in 1284
Others say the trigger event was a migration, a Holy Crusade, or the Black Plague. There is even a group that believes that in the grips of mass hysteria, the children danced themselves to death.
Bonus
Pied means irregularly multi-colored. Piper means flute-player. Thus, a pied piper is a gaudy flautist.
