Selected Tales of the Brothers Grimm

by Jacob Grimm

  What a face the count made when the following morning the master thief appeared with bedsheet and ring in hand! “Are you a sorcerer?” he said to him. “Who dug you out of the grave in which I myself laid you and brought you back to life?”

  “You did not bury me,” said the thief, “but rather that poor sinner who dangled from the gallows.” Whereupon he detailed just how he’d done it. And the count had to admit that he was indeed a cunning and canny thief.

  “But you’re not done yet,” he added, “you still have a third task to accomplish, and if you don’t succeed, God help you.” In response to which the master thief just smiled and made no reply.

  At nightfall he came to the village church with a long sack on his back, a bundle under his arm, and a lantern in hand. The sack was filled with crabs, and in the bundle he had short wax candles. He sat himself down in the graveyard, pulled a crab out of the sack, and stuck a candle on its back; then he lit the candle, lowered the crab to the ground, and let it run free. He fetched another out of the sack and did the same with it, and again with another crab, until the sack was empty. Whereupon he put on a long black gown that looked like a monk’s habit and glued a gray beard to his chin. When at last he was completely unrecognizable, he took the sack in which he’d carried the crabs, entered the church, and climbed the pulpit.

  The bells just struck twelve, and when the last knell went silent he cried out in a shrill voice, “Hear ye, all sinners, the end has come, Judgment Day has come – hear ye, hear ye! Whoever wants to go to heaven, let him crawl into this sack. I am Saint Peter, who opens and shuts the gates of heaven. Look there, the dead are wandering in the graveyard and gathering up their bones. Come one, come all, and crawl into my sack, the world has come to an end.”

  His cry echoed throughout the village. The pastor and the sexton lived nearest the church and were the first to hear it, and when they spotted the lights ambling around the graveyard, they immediately fathomed that something was amiss and hastened to the church. They listened for a while to the sermon, then the sexton nudged the pastor and said, “It might not be a bad idea if before the break of Judgment Day the two of us found an easy access to heaven.”

  “My sentiments precisely,” replied the pastor. “If you’re willing, let’s get going.”

  “That I am,” replied the sexton. “You first, pastor. I’ll follow.”

  So the pastor went first and climbed the steps to the pulpit, where the master thief opened his sack. The pastor crawled in, and the sexton followed. The thief promptly fastened the sack tightly, grabbed it, and dragged it down the pulpit steps – whenever the heads of the two arrant fools struck against the steps, the thief cried out, “We’re climbing the mountain.” Then he dragged them in a similar manner through the village, and when they came to puddles, he cried out, “Now we’re climbing through the rain-soaked clouds.” And when at last he dragged them up the castle steps, he cried, “Now we’re climbing the steps to heaven and will soon be there.” And when they reached the head of the stairs he shoved the sack into the dovecote, and when the doves flapped and fluttered about, he said, “The angels are so happy they’re flapping their wings.” Then he shut the dovecote latch and went away.

  The next morning he appeared before the count and told him that he had accomplished the third task, and stolen the pastor and sexton out of the church.

  “Where did you leave them?” asked the count.

  “They’re lying bundled in a sack in the dovecote and think they’re in heaven.”

  The count climbed up to the dovecote to see for himself if the thief was telling the truth. When he released the pastor and the sexton from their keep, he said, “You are indeed an ace of thieves and have won your wager. This once I’ll allow you to escape with your head, but you better make haste and leave my land, for if ever I see hide or hair of you again hereabouts, you can count on the gallows.”

  The master thief bid his parents farewell, left home once more, and no one ever heard from him again.

  THE BLUE LIGHT

  There once was a soldier who had faithfully served his king for many years. But when the war was over, the king said to the soldier, who had suffered many wounds and so was no longer fit for combat, “You can go home now, I won’t be needing your services – but don’t expect any more money from me. I only pay those who can earn their keep.”

  Now the soldier, who had no idea how to make ends meet, went off with a heavy heart and walked all day until evening when he came to a forest. When darkness fell, he saw a light, and approaching it, he came to a house in which lived a witch. “Give me shelter for the night, a bite to eat, and a drop to drink,” he said to her, “or else I’m done for.”

  “Oho!” she replied. “Who would dare aid a deserted soldier? But I will show you mercy and take you in if you do what I ask.”

  “What do you want me to do?” asked the soldier.

  “I want you to plow my garden tomorrow.”

  The soldier consented, and the next day he worked until he dropped, but come evening he hadn’t finished the job.

  “It’s clear,” said the witch, “that you can’t do any more today. I’ll keep you another night, in exchange for which I want you to chop me a cartload of firewood tomorrow.”

  The soldier took the whole of the next day to get the job done, and come evening, the witch offered to put him up for another night. “Tomorrow,” she said, “I only ask that you do me a small service. Behind my house there is an old well that has run dry. My light fell in, and it burns blue and never goes out. You must fetch it for me.”

  The next day the old hag led him to the well and lowered him down in a basket. He found the blue light and made a sign for her to hoist him back up, which she proceeded to do. But when he got close to the rim, she reached out her hand and wanted to grab the light.

  “Not so fast,” he said, sensing her evil intent. “I’ll only give you the light once I have both my feet firmly planted on dry ground.” Whereupon the witch flew into a rage, let him drop back down into the well, and walked away.

  The poor soldier fell to the damp bottom without a bruise, and the blue light kept burning, but what good did that do him? Facing his inevitable death, he sat around sadly for a while, when he happened to reach into his pocket and found his pipe half stuffed with tobacco. This will be my last pleasure, he thought, and pulled out the pipe, lit it on the blue light, and started smoking. As the cloud of smoke rose around him, all at once a little black man appeared before him and asked, “Master, what is your wish?”

  “How can a lowly creature like me command anything of you?” the flabbergasted soldier replied.

  “I must do,” said the little man, “whatever you ask.”

  “Good,” said the soldier. “So first help me get out of this well.”

  The little man took him by the hand and led him through underground passageways, the soldier remembering to take along the blue light. Along the way the little man showed him the treasures the witch had amassed and hidden there, and the soldier took as much gold as he could carry. Once they reached the surface, he said to the little man, “Now go and tie up the old witch and take her to prison.” A little while later she went riding by with a terrible shriek, quick as the wind, on the back of a wild tomcat. And shortly thereafter the little man returned. “Everything’s arranged,” he said, “and the witch is already dangling from the gallows. Master,” the little man continued, “what is your next wish?”

  “Nothing at the moment,” the solider replied, “you can go home, just be sure to come when I call.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” said the little man. “All you have to do is kindle your pipe with the blue light, and I’ll be standing there before you.” With these words he disappeared.

  The soldier returned to the city he came from. He went to the finest inn and had a fine suit of clothes made, then asked the innkeeper to furnish a room for him as lavishly as possible. Once it was done and the soldier moved in, he called t
he little black man and said, “I faithfully served the king, but he sent me packing and would have let me starve to death. Now it’s my turn to take revenge.”

  “What should I do?” asked the little man.

  “Late at night when the king’s daughter is in bed, bring her here fast asleep. She will serve as my chambermaid.”

  The little man said, “That’s easy enough for me, but for you it’ll be a bit of risky business. When the king finds out, you’ll be in big trouble.”

  At the stroke of twelve, the door flew open, and the little man carried the king’s daughter in.

  “Aha, is that you?” the soldier cried. “Get to work now! Go fetch a broom and sweep my room.” When she was done, he had her approach his chair, then he stretched his feet out and said, “Pull my boots off,” which she did, whereupon he flung them in her face, and she had to pick them up, and clean and polish them until they sparkled. But she obeyed his every command in silence and with half-closed eyes. At the cock’s first crow the little man returned with her to the royal castle and lay her back in bed.

  That morning, when she got up, she went to her father and told him she’d had a strange dream. “I was carried through the streets at lightning speed and brought to a soldier’s room, whom I had to serve hand and foot as a chambermaid, and do all the menial tasks, sweep up and polish his boots. It was just a dream, yet I’m so tired as if I’d really done it.”

  “The dream might not have been an illusion,” said the king. “I’ll give you a bit of advice – stuff your pockets full of peas and tear a tiny hole in your pocket. Should you be picked up again, the peas will fall out and leave a trail on the street.”

  Standing by, invisible, the little man listened in and heard everything the king said. That night, as he once again carried the sleeping princess through the streets, peas did indeed fall out of her pocket but they left no trace, since the crafty little man had previously strewn peas in every street. Again the princess had to serve the soldier hand and foot until the cock’s first crow.

  The following morning the king sent his servants out to follow the trail, but their effort was to no avail, since children sat on every street picking up peas. “Last night it rained peas,” they said, laughing.

  “We have to think up something else,” said the king. “Keep your shoes on when you go to bed, and before you come back from wherever they take you, hide a shoe. I’ll find the culprit all right.”

  Again the little black man overheard the king’s ruse, and when the soldier ordered him that night to once again carry off the princess, he counseled him against it, saying, “Against such stealth there’s nothing I can do. If they find the shoe at your place, things may go badly for you.”

  “Do as I say,” replied the soldier, and for the third straight night the princess had to serve him hand and foot. But she hid a shoe under the bed when the little man carried her back.

  The next morning the king had the entire city searched for his daughter’s shoe, and it was found at the soldier’s lodgings. Heeding the little man’s advice, the soldier had taken flight, but he was soon captured and thrown into jail. In his hasty departure, the soldier had left behind his most precious possessions, the blue light and the gold, and had only a ducat left in his pocket. Standing in chains at the window of his prison cell, he saw an old comrade strolling by. The soldier rapped on the window bars, and when his comrade came over, he said to him, “Please be so kind as to fetch me the little bundle I left back at the inn. I’ll give you a ducat if you do.” The comrade ran to the soldier’s old digs and brought him what he asked for. As soon as the prisoner was alone again, he lit his pipe and called forth the little man.

  “Fear not,” the little man said to his master. “Go where they take you, and let them do what they will, just don’t forget the blue light.”

  The next day the soldier was brought to trial, and although he hadn’t done anything evil, the judge condemned him to death. As he was led off to the gallows, he begged the king for one last kindness.

  “What is it?” asked the king.

  “That I may be permitted to smoke my pipe on the way to my execution.”

  “You can smoke three, for all I care,” replied the king, “but don’t think I’ll grant you your life.”

  Whereupon the soldier pulled out his pipe and lit it with the blue light, and as soon as a few smoke rings rose above him, the little man appeared before him with a little club in his hand, and said, “What does my master wish?”

  “Go strike down the false judge and his henchmen, and don’t spare the king who treated me so badly.”

  Then quick as lightning, the little man leapt forward and, slam-bam, went to work, and whomever he struck with the club fell down and never rose again. The king took fright and begged for his life, in exchange for which he gave the soldier his kingdom and his daughter for a wife.

  TOM THUMB

  There once was a poor plowman who sat in the evening by the hearth and stoked the fire, and his wife sat and spun. “It’s so sad that we have no children,” he said. “Our house is so quiet, and all the other houses around us are loud and gay.”

  “Yes,” said his wife with a sigh, “if only we had but one child, and even if he were the size of a thumb I’d be happy. We’d love him with all our heart.”

  It so happened that the woman fell ill and seven months later she gave birth to a child who was well proportioned in every way, but no taller than a thumb. Whereupon the couple remarked, “He’s just as we wished, and he will be our darling boy,” and because of his size they called him Tom Thumb. Every day they fed him his fill, yet the child grew no taller but stayed as small as he was at that first hour. Still he had a savvy look in his eyes and soon proved to be a quick-witted and nimble little fellow who succeeded at every task he undertook.

  One day the plowman prepared to go into the woods to chop wood, and he muttered to himself, “If only I had someone to bring the cart to fetch the wood for me.”

  “Oh, Father,” cried Tom Thumb, “I’ll bring the cart, you can count on that. It will be waiting for you in the woods when you’re done.”

  The man laughed and said, “How in heaven’s name do you propose to do it? You’re too small to lead the horse by the leash.”

  “Never mind, Father, if Mother will harness the horse I’ll sit myself in his ear and call out the right directions.”

  “Very well,” said the father, “we’ll give it a try.”

  At the appointed hour, his mother harnessed the horse and sat Tom Thumb in the horse’s ear, whereupon the little one called out directions: “Giddyap! On the double!” The horse advanced as if led by a master carter, and the cart rolled in the right direction toward the woods. Now it so happened that just as they rounded a bend and the little one cried out “Hut! Hut!,” two men approached.

  “Well for crying out loud,” said the one, “will you get a load of that? There’s a cart rolling along, and the carter’s calling out to the horse, but he’s nowhere in sight.”

  “There’s something funny going on here,” said the other. “Let’s follow the cart and see where it leads.”

  But the cart rolled right into the woods and straight to the place where the felled wood lay. No sooner did Tom Thumb see his father than he called out to him, “See, Father, here I am with the cart. Now take me down.”

  The father took hold of the horse with his left hand and with his right pulled his little son out of the horse’s ear and put him down on a stalk of straw, where he sat cheerfully.

  When the two strangers set eyes on Tom Thumb, they were struck dumb with amazement. Then the one said to the other, “Hey, that little fellow could make our fortune if we took him to a big city and had people pay for a peek – we’ll buy him.” So they approached the plowman and said, “Sell us the little man. He’ll have it good with us.”

  “No,” said the father, “he’s my dear heart and I wouldn’t sell him for all the money in the world.”

  But upon hearing
the proposition, Tom Thumb climbed the folds of his father’s coat, hoisted himself up to his shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “Father, go ahead and sell me. I’ll be back in no time.”

  So the father sold him to the two men for a handsome sum.

  “Where do you want to sit?” they said to him.

  “Oh, just set me on the rim of your hat so I can go walking around and get the lay of the land without falling off. They did as he wished, and as soon as Tom Thumb took leave of his father they set out on their way. They kept on walking until dusk, then the little one spoke up: “Let me down a moment, nature calls.”

  “Just stay up there,” replied the man on whose head he sat. “Don’t worry about it, the birds also sometimes let drop on my hat.”

  “No,” said Tom Thumb, “good manners matter to me – hurry up and let me down.”

  The man took his hat off and set the little fellow on the ground, whereupon he jumped off and crept among the clumps of earth, then suddenly slipped into a mouse hole he’d been looking for. “Good evening, kind sirs, be on your way without me!” he cried out and laughed. They came running over and poked around the mouse hole with their walking sticks, but it was no use. Tom Thumb crawled ever deeper in, and since it was soon pitch-black out they were obliged to return home, grumbling and with an empty purse.

  When Tom Thumb saw that they were gone, he crawled back out of that handy little grotto. “It’s so dangerous fumbling around a farm field in the dark,” said he. “A body might easily break a leg or worse!” Fortunately he happened upon an empty snail shell. “Thank God,” said he, “it’s just the place to find shelter for the night,” and promptly slipped in.