“The Pied Piper of Hamelin” by Robert Browning: A Critical Analysis

Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick,

   By famous Hanover city;

The river Weser, deep and wide,

Washes its wall on the southern side;

A pleasanter spot you never spied;

   But, when begins my ditty,

Almost five hundred years ago,

To see the townsfolk suffer so

   From vermin, was a pity.

      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.

At last the people in a body

   To the Town Hall came flocking:

‘Tis clear, cried they, our Mayor’s a noddy;

   And as for our Corporation — shocking

To think we buy gowns lined with ermine

For dolts that can’t or won’t determine

What’s like to rid us of our vermin!

Rouse up, Sirs! Give your brains a racking

To find the remedy we’re lacking,

Or, sure as fate, we’ll send you packing!

   At this the Mayor and Corporation

   Quaked with a mighty consternation.

An hour they sate in council,

   At length the Mayor broke silence:

For a guilder I’d my ermine gown sell;

   I wish I were a mile hence!

It’s easy to bid one rack one’s brain —

I’m sure my poor head aches again

I’ve scratched it so, and all in vain.

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?

(With the Corporation as he sate,

Looking little though wondrous fat);

Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?

Anything like the sound of a rat

Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!

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 —

There was no guessing his kith and kin!

And nobody could enough admire

The tall man and his quaint attire:

Quoth one: It’s as my great-grandsire,

Starting up at the Trump of Doom’s tone,

Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!

He advanced to the council-table:

And, Please your honours, said he, I’m able,

By means of a secret charm, to draw

All creatures living beneath the sun,

That creep, or swim, or fly, or run,

After me so as you never saw!

And I chiefly use my charm

On creatures that do people harm,

The mole, and toad, and newt, and viper;

And people call me the Pied Piper.

(And here they noticed round his neck

A scarf of red and yellow stripe,

To match with his coat of the self-same cheque;

And at the scarf’s end hung a pipe;

And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying

As if impatient to be playing

Upon this pipe, as low it dangled

Over his vesture so old-fangled.)

Yet, said he, poor piper as I am,

In Tartary I freed the Cham,

Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats;

I eased in Asia the Nizam

Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats:

And, as for what your brain bewilders,

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.

Into the street the Piper stept,

   Smiling first a little smile,

As if he knew what magic slept

   In his quiet pipe the while;

Then, like a musical adept,

To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,

And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,

Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled;

And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,

You heard as if an army muttered;

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.

From street to street he piped advancing,

And step for step they followed dancing,

Until they came to the river Weser

Wherein all plunged and perished

— Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar,

Swam across and lived to carry

(As he the manuscript he cherished)

To Rat-land home his commentary,

Which was, At the first shrill notes of the pipe,

I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,

And putting apples, wondrous ripe,

Into a cider-press’s gripe:

And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards,

And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards,

And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks,

And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks;

And it seemed as if a voice

(Sweeter than by harp or by psaltery

Is breathed) called out, Oh rats, rejoice!

The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!

‘So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,

‘Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!

And just as one bulky sugar-puncheon,

Ready staved, like a great sun shone

Glorious scarce an inch before me,

Just as methought it said, Come, bore me!

— I found the Weser rolling o’er me.

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!

A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;

So did the Corporation too.

For council dinners made rare havock

With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;

And half the money would replenish

Their cellar’s biggest butt with Rhenish.

To pay this sum to a wandering fellow

With a gipsy coat of red and yellow!

Beside, quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink,

Our business was done at the river’s brink;

We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,

And what’s dead can’t come to life, I think.

So, friend, we’re not the folks to shrink

From the duty of giving you something for drink,

And a matter of money to put in your poke;

But, as for the guilders, what we spoke

Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.

Beside, our losses have made us thrifty;

A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!

The Piper’s face fell, and he cried,

No trifling! I can’t wait, beside!

I’ve promised to visit by dinner time

Bagdat, and accept the prime

Of the Head Cook’s pottage, all he’s rich in,

For having left, in the Caliph’s kitchen,

Of a nest of scorpions no survivor —

With him I proved no bargain-driver,

With you, don’t think I’ll bate a stiver!

And folks who put me in a passion

May find me pipe after another fashion.

How? cried the Mayor, d’ye think I’ll brook

Being worse treated than a Cook?

Insulted by a lazy ribald

With idle pipe and vesture piebald?

You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,

Blow your pipe there till you burst!

Once more he stept into the street;

   And to his lips again

Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;

   And ere he blew three notes (such sweet

Soft notes as yet musician’s cunning

   Never gave th’enraptured air)

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,