Grimms' Fairy Tales

She took nothing with her but a little ring which her father and mother had given her, a loaf of bread in case she should be hungry, a little pitcher of water in case she should be thirsty, and a little stool to rest upon when she should be weary. Thus she went on and on, and journeyed till she came to the world’s end; then she came to the sun, but the sun looked much too hot and fiery; so she ran away quickly to the moon, but the moon was cold and chilly, and said, ‘I smell flesh and blood this way!’ so she took herself away in a hurry and came to the stars, and the stars were friendly and kind to her, and each star sat upon his own little stool; but the morning star rose up and gave her a little piece of wood, and said, ‘If you have not this little piece of wood, you cannot unlock the castle that stands on the glass-mountain, and there your brothers live.’ The little girl took the piece of wood, rolled it up in a little cloth, and went on again until she came to the glass-mountain, and found the door shut. Then she felt for the little piece of wood; but when she unwrapped the cloth it was not there, and she saw she had lost the gift of the good stars. What was to be done? She wanted to save her brothers, and had no key of the castle of the glass-mountain; so this faithful little sister took a knife out of her pocket and cut off her little finger, that was just the size of the piece of wood she had lost, and put it in the door and opened it.

As she went in, a little dwarf came up to her, and said, ‘What are you seeking for?’ ‘I seek for my brothers, the seven ravens,’ answered she. Then the dwarf said, ‘My masters are not at home; but if you will wait till they come, pray step in.’ Now the little dwarf was getting their dinner ready, and he brought their food upon seven little plates, and their drink in seven little glasses, and set them upon the table, and out of each little plate their sister ate a small piece, and out of each little glass she drank a small drop; but she let the ring that she had brought with her fall into the last glass.

On a sudden she heard a fluttering and croaking in the air, and the dwarf said, ‘Here come my masters.’ When they came in, they wanted to eat and drink, and looked for their little plates and glasses. Then said one after the other,

‘Who has eaten from my little plate? And who has been drinking out of my little glass?’

‘Caw! Caw! well I ween  Mortal lips have this way been.’

When the seventh came to the bottom of his glass, and found there the ring, he looked at it, and knew that it was his father’s and mother’s, and said, ‘O that our little sister would but come! then we should be free.’ When the little girl heard this (for she stood behind the door all the time and listened), she ran forward, and in an instant all the ravens took their right form again; and all hugged and kissed each other, and went merrily home.

THE WEDDING OF MRS FOX

FIRST STORY

There was once upon a time an old fox with nine tails, who believed that his wife was not faithful to him, and wished to put her to the test. He stretched himself out under the bench, did not move a limb, and behaved as if he were stone dead. Mrs Fox went up to her room, shut herself in, and her maid, Miss Cat, sat by the fire, and did the cooking. When it became known that the old fox was dead, suitors presented themselves. The maid heard someone standing at the house-door, knocking. She went and opened it, and it was a young fox, who said:

‘What may you be about, Miss Cat?  Do you sleep or do you wake?’

She answered:

‘I am not sleeping, I am waking,  Would you know what I am making?  I am boiling warm beer with butter,  Will you be my guest for supper?’

‘No, thank you, miss,’ said the fox, ‘what is Mrs Fox doing?’ The maid replied:

‘She is sitting in her room,  Moaning in her gloom,  Weeping her little eyes quite red,  Because old Mr Fox is dead.’

‘Do just tell her, miss, that a young fox is here, who would like to woo her.’ ‘Certainly, young sir.’

  The cat goes up the stairs trip, trap,  The door she knocks at tap, tap, tap,‘Mistress Fox, are you inside?’‘Oh, yes, my little cat,’ she cried.‘A wooer he stands at the door out there.’‘What does he look like, my dear?’

‘Has he nine as beautiful tails as the late Mr Fox?’ ‘Oh, no,’ answered the cat, ‘he has only one.’ ‘Then I will not have him.’

Miss Cat went downstairs and sent the wooer away. Soon afterwards there was another knock, and another fox was at the door who wished to woo Mrs Fox. He had two tails, but he did not fare better than the first. After this still more came, each with one tail more than the other, but they were all turned away, until at last one came who had nine tails, like old Mr Fox. When the widow heard that, she said joyfully to the cat:

‘Now open the gates and doors all wide,  And carry old Mr Fox outside.’

But just as the wedding was going to be solemnized, old Mr Fox stirred under the bench, and cudgelled all the rabble, and drove them and Mrs Fox out of the house.

SECOND STORY

When old Mr Fox was dead, the wolf came as a suitor, and knocked at the door, and the cat who was servant to Mrs Fox, opened it for him. The wolf greeted her, and said:

‘Good day, Mrs Cat of Kehrewit,  How comes it that alone you sit?  What are you making good?’

The cat replied:

‘In milk I’m breaking bread so sweet,  Will you be my guest, and eat?’

‘No, thank you, Mrs Cat,’ answered the wolf. ‘Is Mrs Fox not at home?’

The cat said:

‘She sits upstairs in her room,  Bewailing her sorrowful doom,  Bewailing her trouble so sore,  For old Mr Fox is no more.’

The wolf answered:

‘If she’s in want of a husband now,  Then will it please her to step below?’  The cat runs quickly up the stair,  And lets her tail fly here and there,  Until she comes to the parlour door.  With her five gold rings at the door she knocks:‘Are you within, good Mistress Fox?  If you’re in want of a husband now,  Then will it please you to step below?

Mrs Fox asked: ‘Has the gentleman red stockings on, and has he a pointed mouth?’ ‘No,’ answered the cat. ‘Then he won’t do for me.’

When the wolf was gone, came a dog, a stag, a hare, a bear, a lion, and all the beasts of the forest, one after the other. But one of the good qualities which old Mr Fox had possessed, was always lacking, and the cat had continually to send the suitors away. At length came a young fox. Then Mrs Fox said: ‘Has the gentleman red stockings on, and has a little pointed mouth?’ ‘Yes,’ said the cat, ‘he has.’ ‘Then let him come upstairs,’ said Mrs Fox, and ordered the servant to prepare the wedding feast.

‘Sweep me the room as clean as you can,  Up with the window, fling out my old man!  For many a fine fat mouse he brought,  Yet of his wife he never thought,  But ate up every one he caught.’

Then the wedding was solemnized with young Mr Fox, and there was much rejoicing and dancing; and if they have not left off, they are dancing still.

THE SALAD

As a merry young huntsman was once going briskly along through a wood, there came up a little old woman, and said to him, ‘Good day, good day; you seem merry enough, but I am hungry and thirsty; do pray give me something to eat.’ The huntsman took pity on her, and put his hand in his pocket and gave her what he had. Then he wanted to go his way; but she took hold of him, and said, ‘Listen, my friend, to what I am going to tell you; I will reward you for your kindness; go your way, and after a little time you will come to a tree where you will see nine birds sitting on a cloak. Shoot into the midst of them, and one will fall down dead: the cloak will fall too; take it, it is a wishing-cloak, and when you wear it you will find yourself at any place where you may wish to be. Cut open the dead bird, take out its heart and keep it, and you will find a piece of gold under your pillow every morning when you rise. It is the bird’s heart that will bring you this good luck.’

The huntsman thanked her, and thought to himself, ‘If all this does happen, it will be a fine thing for me.’ When he had gone a hundred steps or so, he heard a screaming and chirping in the branches over him, and looked up and saw a flock of birds pulling a cloak with their bills and feet; screaming, fighting, and tugging at each other as if each wished to have it himself. ‘Well,’ said the huntsman, ‘this is wonderful; this happens just as the old woman said’; then he shot into the midst of them so that their feathers flew all about. Off went the flock chattering away; but one fell down dead, and the cloak with it. Then the huntsman did as the old woman told him, cut open the bird, took out the heart, and carried the cloak home with him.

The next morning when he awoke he lifted up his pillow, and there lay the piece of gold glittering underneath; the same happened next day, and indeed every day when he arose. He heaped up a great deal of gold, and at last thought to himself, ‘Of what use is this gold to me whilst I am at home? I will go out into the world and look about me.’

Then he took leave of his friends, and hung his bag and bow about his neck, and went his way. It so happened that his road one day led through a thick wood, at the end of which was a large castle in a green meadow, and at one of the windows stood an old woman with a very beautiful young lady by her side looking about them. Now the old woman was a witch, and said to the young lady, ‘There is a young man coming out of the wood who carries a wonderful prize; we must get it away from him, my dear child, for it is more fit for us than for him. He has a bird’s heart that brings a piece of gold under his pillow every morning.’ Meantime the huntsman came nearer and looked at the lady, and said to himself, ‘I have been travelling so long that I should like to go into this castle and rest myself, for I have money enough to pay for anything I want’; but the real reason was, that he wanted to see more of the beautiful lady. Then he went into the house, and was welcomed kindly; and it was not long before he was so much in love that he thought of nothing else but looking at the lady’s eyes, and doing everything that she wished. Then the old woman said, ‘Now is the time for getting the bird’s heart.’ So the lady stole it away, and he never found any more gold under his pillow, for it lay now under the young lady’s, and the old woman took it away every morning; but he was so much in love that he never missed his prize.

‘Well,’ said the old witch, ‘we have got the bird’s heart, but not the wishing-cloak yet, and that we must also get.’ ‘Let us leave him that,’ said the young lady; ‘he has already lost his wealth.’ Then the witch was very angry, and said, ‘Such a cloak is a very rare and wonderful thing, and I must and will have it.’ So she did as the old woman told her, and set herself at the window, and looked about the country and seemed very sorrowful; then the huntsman said, ‘What makes you so sad?’ ‘Alas! dear sir,’ said she, ‘yonder lies the granite rock where all the costly diamonds grow, and I want so much to go there, that whenever I think of it I cannot help being sorrowful, for who can reach it? only the birds and the flies – man cannot.’ ‘If that’s all your grief,’ said the huntsman, ‘I’ll take you there with all my heart’; so he drew her under his cloak, and the moment he wished to be on the granite mountain they were both there. The diamonds glittered so on all sides that they were delighted with the sight and picked up the finest. But the old witch made a deep sleep come upon him, and he said to the young lady, ‘Let us sit down and rest ourselves a little, I am so tired that I cannot stand any longer.’ So they sat down, and he laid his head in her lap and fell asleep; and whilst he was sleeping on she took the cloak from his shoulders, hung it on her own, picked up the diamonds, and wished herself home again.

When he awoke and found that his lady had tricked him, and left him alone on the wild rock, he said, ‘Alas! what roguery there is in the world!’ and there he sat in great grief and fear, not knowing what to do. Now this rock belonged to fierce giants who lived upon it; and as he saw three of them striding about, he thought to himself, ‘I can only save myself by feigning to be asleep’; so he laid himself down as if he were in a sound sleep. When the giants came up to him, the first pushed him with his foot, and said, ‘What worm is this that lies here curled up?’ ‘Tread upon him and kill him,’ said the second. ‘It’s not worth the trouble,’ said the third; ‘let him live, he’ll go climbing higher up the mountain, and some cloud will come rolling and carry him away.’ And they passed on. But the huntsman had heard all they said; and as soon as they were gone, he climbed to the top of the mountain, and when he had sat there a short time a cloud came rolling around him, and caught him in a whirlwind and bore him along for some time, till it settled in a garden, and he fell quite gently to the ground amongst the greens and cabbages.

Then he looked around him, and said, ‘I wish I had something to eat, if not I shall be worse off than before; for here I see neither apples nor pears, nor any kind of fruits, nothing but vegetables.’ At last he thought to himself, ‘I can eat salad, it will refresh and strengthen me.’ So he picked out a fine head and ate of it; but scarcely had he swallowed two bites when he felt himself quite changed, and saw with horror that he was turned into an ass. However, he still felt very hungry, and the salad tasted very nice; so he ate on till he came to another kind of salad, and scarcely had he tasted it when he felt another change come over him, and soon saw that he was lucky enough to have found his old shape again.

Then he laid himself down and slept off a little of his weariness; and when he awoke the next morning he broke off a head both of the good and the bad salad, and thought to himself, ‘This will help me to my fortune again, and enable me to pay off some folks for their treachery.’ So he went away to try and find the castle of his friends; and after wandering about a few days he luckily found it. Then he stained his face all over brown, so that even his mother would not have known him, and went into the castle and asked for a lodging; ‘I am so tired,’ said he, ‘that I can go no farther.’ ‘Countryman,’ said the witch, ‘who are you? and what is your business?’ ‘I am,’ said he, ‘a messenger sent by the king to find the finest salad that grows under the sun. I have been lucky enough to find it, and have brought it with me; but the heat of the sun scorches so that it begins to wither, and I don’t know that I can carry it farther.’

When the witch and the young lady heard of his beautiful salad, they longed to taste it, and said, ‘Dear countryman, let us just taste it.’ ‘To be sure,’ answered he; ‘I have two heads of it with me, and will give you one’; so he opened his bag and gave them the bad. Then the witch herself took it into the kitchen to be dressed; and when it was ready she could not wait till it was carried up, but took a few leaves immediately and put them in her mouth, and scarcely were they swallowed when she lost her own form and ran braying down into the court in the form of an ass. Now the servant-maid came into the kitchen, and seeing the salad ready, was going to carry it up; but on the way she too felt a wish to taste it as the old woman had done, and ate some leaves; so she also was turned into an ass and ran after the other, letting the dish with the salad fall on the ground. The messenger sat all this time with the beautiful young lady, and as nobody came with the salad and she longed to taste it, she said, ‘I don’t know where the salad can be.’ Then he thought something must have happened, and said, ‘I will go into the kitchen and see.’ And as he went he saw two asses in the court running about, and the salad lying on the ground. ‘All right!’ said he; ‘those two have had their share.’ Then he took up the rest of the leaves, laid them on the dish and brought them to the young lady, saying, ‘I bring you the dish myself that you may not wait any longer.’ So she ate of it, and like the others ran off into the court braying away.

Then the huntsman washed his face and went into the court that they might know him. ‘Now you shall be paid for your roguery,’ said he; and tied them all three to a rope and took them along with him till he came to a mill and knocked at the window. ‘What’s the matter?’ said the miller. ‘I have three tiresome beasts here,’ said the other; ‘if you will take them, give them food and room, and treat them as I tell you, I will pay you whatever you ask.’ ‘With all my heart,’ said the miller; ‘but how shall I treat them?’ Then the huntsman said, ‘Give the old one stripes three times a day and hay once; give the next (who was the servant-maid) stripes once a day and hay three times; and give the youngest (who was the beautiful lady) hay three times a day and no stripes’: for he could not find it in his heart to have her beaten. After this he went back to the castle, where he found everything he wanted.

Some days after, the miller came to him and told him that the old ass was dead; ‘The other two,’ said he, ‘are alive and eat, but are so sorrowful that they cannot last long.’ Then the huntsman pitied them, and told the miller to drive them back to him, and when they came, he gave them some of the good salad to eat. And the beautiful young lady fell upon her knees before him, and said, ‘O dearest huntsman! forgive me all the ill I have done you; my mother forced me to it, it was against my will, for I always loved you very much. Your wishing-cloak hangs up in the closet, and as for the bird’s heart, I will give it you too.’ But he said, ‘Keep it, it will be just the same thing, for I mean to make you my wife.’ So they were married, and lived together very happily till they died.

THE STORY OF THE YOUTH WHO WENT FORTH TO LEARN WHAT FEAR WAS

A certain father had two sons, the elder of who was smart and sensible, and could do everything, but the younger was stupid and could neither learn nor understand anything, and when people saw him they said: ‘There’s a fellow who will give his father some trouble!’ When anything had to be done, it was always the elder who was forced to do it; but if his father bade him fetch anything when it was late, or in the night-time, and the way led through the churchyard, or any other dismal place, he answered: ‘Oh, no father, I’ll not go there, it makes me shudder!’ for he was afraid. Or when stories were told by the fire at night which made the flesh creep, the listeners sometimes said: ‘Oh, it makes us shudder!’ The younger sat in a corner and listened with the rest of them, and could not imagine what they could mean. ‘They are always saying: “It makes me shudder, it makes me shudder!” It does not make me shudder,’ thought he. ‘That, too, must be an art of which I understand nothing!’

Now it came to pass that his father said to him one day: ‘Hearken to me, you fellow in the corner there, you are growing tall and strong, and you too must learn something by which you can earn your bread. Look how your brother works, but you do not even earn your salt.’ ‘Well, father,’ he replied, ‘I am quite willing to learn something – indeed, if it could but be managed, I should like to learn how to shudder. I don’t understand that at all yet.’ The elder brother smiled when he heard that, and thought to himself: ‘Goodness, what a blockhead that brother of mine is! He will never be good for anything as long as he lives! He who wants to be a sickle must bend himself betimes.’

The father sighed, and answered him: ‘You shall soon learn what it is to shudder, but you will not earn your bread by that.’

Soon after this the sexton came to the house on a visit, and the father bewailed his trouble, and told him how his younger son was so backward in every respect that he knew nothing and learnt nothing. ‘Just think,’ said he, ‘when I asked him how he was going to earn his bread, he actually wanted to learn to shudder.’ ‘If that be all,’ replied the sexton, ‘he can learn that with me. Send him to me, and I will soon polish him.’ The father was glad to do it, for he thought: ‘It will train the boy a little.’ The sexton therefore took him into his house, and he had to ring the church bell. After a day or two, the sexton awoke him at midnight, and bade him arise and go up into the church tower and ring the bell. ‘You shall soon learn what shuddering is,’ thought he, and secretly went there before him; and when the boy was at the top of the tower and turned round, and was just going to take hold of the bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the stairs opposite the sounding hole. ‘Who is there?’ cried he, but the figure made no reply, and did not move or stir. ‘Give an answer,’ cried the boy, ‘or take yourself off, you have no business here at night.’

The sexton, however, remained standing motionless that the boy might think he was a ghost. The boy cried a second time: ‘What do you want here? – speak if you are an honest fellow, or I will throw you down the steps!’ The sexton thought: ‘He can’t mean to be as bad as his words,’ uttered no sound and stood as if he were made of stone. Then the boy called to him for the third time, and as that was also to no purpose, he ran against him and pushed the ghost down the stairs, so that it fell down the ten steps and remained lying there in a corner. Thereupon he rang the bell, went home, and without saying a word went to bed, and fell asleep. The sexton’s wife waited a long time for her husband, but he did not come back. At length she became uneasy, and wakened the boy, and asked: ‘Do you know where my husband is? He climbed up the tower before you did.’ ‘No, I don’t know,’ replied the boy, ‘but someone was standing by the sounding hole on the other side of the steps, and as he would neither gave an answer nor go away, I took him for a scoundrel, and threw him downstairs. Just go there and you will see if it was he. I should be sorry if it were.’ The woman ran away and found her husband, who was lying moaning in the corner, and had broken his leg.

She carried him down, and then with loud screams she hastened to the boy’s father, ‘Your boy,’ cried she, ‘has been the cause of a great misfortune! He has thrown my husband down the steps so that he broke his leg. Take the good-for-nothing fellow out of our house.’ The father was terrified, and ran thither and scolded the boy. ‘What wicked tricks are these?’ said he. ‘The devil must have put them into your head.’ ‘Father,’ he replied, ‘do listen to me. I am quite innocent. He was standing there by night like one intent on doing evil. I did not know who it was, and I entreated him three times either to speak or to go away.’ ‘Ah,’ said the father, ‘I have nothing but unhappiness with you. Go out of my sight. I will see you no more.’

‘Yes, father, right willingly, wait only until it is day. Then will I go forth and learn how to shudder, and then I shall, at any rate, understand one art which will support me.’ ‘Learn what you will,’ spoke the father, ‘it is all the same to me. Here are fifty talers for you. Take these and go into the wide world, and tell no one from whence you come, and who is your father, for I have reason to be ashamed of you.’ ‘Yes, father, it shall be as you will. If you desire nothing more than that, I can easily keep it in mind.’

When the day dawned, therefore, the boy put his fifty talers into his pocket, and went forth on the great highway, and continually said to himself: ‘If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!’ Then a man approached who heard this conversation which the youth was holding with himself, and when they had walked a little farther to where they could see the gallows, the man said to him: ‘Look, there is the tree where seven men have married the ropemaker’s daughter, and are now learning how to fly. Sit down beneath it, and wait till night comes, and you will soon learn how to shudder.’ ‘If that is all that is wanted,’ answered the youth, ‘it is easily done; but if I learn how to shudder as fast as that, you shall have my fifty talers. Just come back to me early in the morning.’ Then the youth went to the gallows, sat down beneath it, and waited till evening came. And as he was cold, he lighted himself a fire, but at midnight the wind blew so sharply that in spite of his fire, he could not get warm. And as the wind knocked the hanged men against each other, and they moved backwards and forwards, he thought to himself: ‘If you shiver below by the fire, how those up above must freeze and suffer!’ And as he felt pity for them, he raised the ladder, and climbed up, unbound one of them after the other, and brought down all seven. Then he stoked the fire, blew it, and set them all round it to warm themselves. But they sat there and did not stir, and the fire caught their clothes. So he said: ‘Take care, or I will hang you up again.’ The dead men, however, did not hear, but were quite silent, and let their rags go on burning. At this he grew angry, and said: ‘If you will not take care, I cannot help you, I will not be burnt with you,’ and he hung them up again each in his turn. Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep, and the next morning the man came to him and wanted to have the fifty talers, and said: ‘Well do you know how to shudder?’ ‘No,’ answered he, ‘how should I know? Those fellows up there did not open their mouths, and were so stupid that they let the few old rags which they had on their bodies get burnt.’ Then the man saw that he would not get the fifty talers that day, and went away saying: ‘Such a youth has never come my way before.’