Selected Tales of the Brothers Grimm

by Jacob Grimm

  “Oh,” replied the girl, “I’m supposed to spin straw into gold and have no idea how to do it.”

  Said the little man, “What will you give me if I do it for you?”

  “I’ll give you my necklace,” said the girl.

  The little man took her necklace, sat himself before the wheel, and lickety-split, in no time at all, the spool was full. Then he inserted more straw, and lickety-split, in no time at all the second one was full too – and so it went until morning, when all the straw was spun and all the spools were full of gold. At daybreak the king came by, stunned and delighted at the sight of all that gold. But his heart was greedy for more. He had the miller’s daughter brought to a bigger room full of straw, and ordered her, if she valued her life, to spin it all into gold. The girl was so distraught that she started crying again, and once again the door flew open, and the little man appeared and said, “What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold?”

  “I’ll give you the ring from my finger,” she replied.

  So the little man took the ring, and once again started spinning the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into gold.

  The king was overjoyed at the sight of it but hadn’t yet had his fill, so he had the miller’s daughter brought to a still-larger room filled with straw. “This night,” said he, “you must spin it all – if you succeed I will take you as my wife.” Even if she’s only a miller’s daughter, he thought to himself, I won’t find a richer wife in the whole wide world.

  When the girl sat there alone, the little man came to her a third time and said, “What will you give me if yet again I spin all this straw into gold?”

  “I have nothing left to give you,” said the girl.

  “Then promise me once you’re queen to give me your first child.”

  Who knows how all this will end, thought the miller’s daughter, but with no other way out, she promised him what he asked, and in exchange the little man once again spun the straw into gold. When the king came the next morning and found all that he had asked for, he took her as his bride, and the lovely miller’s daughter became his queen.

  A year later she bore a beautiful child and never gave a thought to the little man, when, all at once, he strode into the room and said, “Now give me what you promised.”

  Now the queen took fright and offered the little man all the riches in the realm, if he would only leave her child. But the beastly little man said, “Not on your life! A living thing is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world.” Then the queen started weeping and wailing so hard that the little man took pity on her. “I’ll give you three days’ time,” he said, “and if by then you manage to find out my name, you can keep your child.”

  All night long the queen racked her brain over all the names she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger throughout the land to inquire far and wide after other names. When the little man came the next day, she began with Kasper, Melchior, Balthazar, and rattled off all the names she knew, one after the other, but each time the little man said, “Guess again.”

  The next day she sent her messenger to ask around what people were called in the neighboring lands, and when the little man appeared, she recited the oddest and strangest names: “Might you perchance be called Sparerib or Muttonchop or Lambshanks?”

  But to each the little man responded, “Guess again.”

  On the third day the messenger returned and said, “No new names have I found, but at the edge of a forest at the foot of a high mountain in the middle of nowhere I spotted a little house, and in front of the house a fire burned, and by the fire leapt a paltry little man, skipping around on one foot and croaking:

  ‘Today I bake, tomorrow I sup,

  The next day I fetch the queen’s young pup;

  Never ever will she dream,

  That Rumpelstilzchen is my name.’”

  You can well imagine how overjoyed the queen was to hear that name, and when, a short while later, the little man returned and asked, “So, Your Majesty, what’s my name?,” she first asked, “Is it Kunz?”

  “No.”

  “Is it Heinz?”

  “No.”

  “Might your name perchance be Rumpelstilzchen?”

  “Who the devil told you? Who the devil told you?” shrieked the little man, and in a furious fit stamped the ground so hard with his right foot that he got stuck up to the waist, whereupon, enraged, he took his left foot in both his hands and tore himself in two.

  had the girl found her hiding place than the godless gang got home. They had dragged along another girl, were dead drunk, and kept on screaming and yammering. They gave her wine to drink, three glasses full – a glass of white, a glass of red, and a glass of yellow wine – which made her heart burst. They tore off her fine clothes, lay her on a table, chopped her lovely body into bits, and sprinkled it with salt. The poor bride hidden behind the barrel quaked and trembled with terror, for she saw what fate the robbers had in store for her. One of them noticed a golden ring on the little finger of the murdered girl, and since he could not slip it off, he took a cleaver and hacked the finger off, but the force of the blow made the severed finger bounce in the air and bound over the barrel, landing smack-dab in the bride’s lap. The thief took a lantern and searched for it, but he couldn’t find it. Whereupon another one said, “Have you looked behind the great big barrel?”

  But the old woman called out, “Come and eat, and leave the looking for tomorrow – the finger won’t run away.”

  “The old woman’s right,” the robbers replied, then left off their search and sat down to eat. The old woman dripped a sleeping potion into their wine, so that they soon lay down on the cellar floor and fell asleep. When the bride heard the sound of their snoring, she crept out from behind the barrel and had to climb carefully over their sleeping hulks reclining side by side on the floor, terrified of waking one. But God helped her make her way safely across. The old woman climbed with her out of the cellar, opened the door, and together they hurried as fast as they could away from that den of thieves. The wind had blown away the scattered ashes, but the peas and lentils germinated and sprouted and showed them the way in the moonlight. They walked the whole night until they came to the mill. The girl told her father everything that had happened.

  On the day on which the wedding was to take place the bridegroom appeared, but the miller made sure to invite all his relatives and acquaintances. When they sat at the table, everyone was supposed to tell a story. The bride sat in silence and said nothing. So the bridegroom said to her, “Well, my dear, have you nothing to say? Tell us a story.”

  Whereupon she replied, “Let me tell you a dream I had. I went alone through the woods and came at last to a lonely house with not a soul in sight, but there was a bird in a cage hanging on the wall, and it sang out:

  ‘Turn back, turn back, young bride,

  A murderer lives inside.’

  “And the bird sang it out yet again. It was only a dream, dear heart. I went from room to room and they were all empty, and it felt so eerie everywhere. Then, finally, I climbed down into the cellar. There sat an age-old woman shaking her head. So I asked her, ‘Does my bridegroom live here?’ And she replied, ‘Oh, my poor child, you’ve landed in a den of thieves. Your bridegroom does live here, but he intends to cut you up, cook you, and eat you.’ Dear heart, it’s only a dream. But the old woman hid me behind a great big barrel, and no sooner was I hidden than the robbers returned, dragging a girl along with them. They gave her three kinds of wine to drink – white, red, and yellow – which made her heart burst. Dear heart, it’s only a dream. Then they tore off her fine clothes, cut up her lovely body on a table, and sprinkled it with salt. Dear heart, it’s only a dream. And one of the robbers saw a gold ring on her little finger, and since it was hard to slip off, he took a cleaver and hacked it off, but the force of the blow made the finger fly into the air, bound over the great big barrel, and land in my lap. And here is the ring finger.”

  With these
words she raised it aloft and showed it to everyone there.

  As she told the tale, the robber turned white as chalk, jumped up, and tried to escape, but the wedding guests grabbed hold of him and handed him over to the authorities. Then he and his whole band were judged and executed for their evil deeds.

  RAPUNZEL

  Once upon a time there were a man and a woman who had long wished in vain for a child. Finally the woman had reason to hope that God would fulfill their wish. The little rear window of their house looked out upon a beautiful garden in which the loveliest flowers and plants grew. It was ringed by a high wall and no one dared enter, as it belonged to a sorceress who had great powers and was feared by everyone. One day the woman stood at the window and looked down into the garden, where she spied a garden bed planted with the loveliest rapunzels, or lamb’s lettuce. They looked so fresh and green that she felt a sudden longing, an intense craving to eat them. The craving grew greater every day, and since she knew that she could have none of them, she grew wan and pale and looked altogether miserable. So much so that her husband took fright: “What’s the matter, my dear wife?”

  “Oh,” she said, “if I can’t have any of that rapunzel in the garden behind our house, I’ll surely die.”

  The man, who loved her dearly, thought to himself, Sooner than let my beloved wife die, I’d better go get her some rapunzel, whatever the price. So at twilight he climbed over the wall into the sorceress’s garden, hastily ripped up a handful, and brought it to his wife. She promptly made a salad of it and gobbled it up with great delight. But she liked it so much that the next day she wanted to have three times as much. If she was to be satisfied, the man would once again have to climb into the garden. Come twilight he lowered himself into the garden, but once over the wall, as soon as his feet touched the ground he had an awful fright. The sorceress was standing right there before him.

  “How dare you,” she said with an angry look, “climb into my garden and like a thief make off with my rapunzels. You’ll pay dearly for it.”

  “Please forgive me,” he replied, “let mercy move your heart. I only did what I had to. My wife spotted your rapunzels from the window and felt such a powerful craving for them that she would have died if she couldn’t eat some.”

  Her anger quelled, the sorceress said to him, “If things are as you say they are, I’ll let you gather as much rapunzel as you like, but under one condition: You must give me the child your wife brings into the world. Things will go well for it, and I will care for it like a mother.”

  In his terror, the man agreed, and when the woman gave birth, the sorceress appeared, gave the child the name Rapunzel, and took her away.

  Rapunzel was the loveliest child under the sun. When she turned twelve, the sorceress locked her in a tower deep in a forest, with neither stairs nor door to enter and only a little window to look out of. When the sorceress wanted to get in, she stood outside and called:

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

  Let down your hair.”

  Rapunzel had lovely long hair, fine as golden threads. As soon as she heard the sorceress’s voice, she undid her braids and wound them around a window knob. The hair fell down a good twenty arms’ lengths, and the sorceress shimmied up.

  A few years later, it so happened that a prince rode through the forest and passed in front of the tower. He heard someone singing, and the voice sounded so sweet that he reigned in his horse and listened. It was Rapunzel, who in her solitude bided her time by letting her sweet voice ring out. The prince wanted to climb up to her and searched for a door, but there was none to be found. He rode home, but the song had so touched his heart that he returned to the forest every day to listen. Once, as he was standing behind a tree, he saw a sorceress walk up to the tower and heard her call out:

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

  Let down your hair.”

  Whereupon Rapunzel unraveled and lowered her braids, and the sorceress shimmied up to her.

  “If that’s the way up,” he said to himself, “then I’ll try my luck too.” And the next day when it started to grow dark, he went up to the tower and called out:

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

  Let down your hair.”

  No sooner had the braids fallen than the prince clambered up.

  At first, upon seeing a man enter the window, since she had never set eyes on one before, she fell back in an awful fright, but the prince spoke to her in such a gentle way, and told her that his heart had been so touched by her song that he could not rest and felt driven to see her. Whereupon Rapunzel stopped being afraid, and when he asked her if she would take him as her husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought to herself, He’ll love me more than that old Frau Gothel, and said yes, and lay her hand in his. She said, “I’ll gladly go with you, but I don’t know how to get down. So each time you come, bring me a silk halter. I’ll weave myself a ladder, and when it’s done I’ll climb down and you can take me away on your horse.”

  So they agreed that every evening he would come to her, as the old crone came by day. And the sorceress noticed nothing until Rapunzel once let slip: “Pray tell, Frau Gothel, how is it that you’re much heavier to hoist up than the young prince, who gets up so swiftly.”

  “Oh you godless child,” cried the sorceress, “what vile things must my ears endure! I thought to have shielded you from all worldly temptations, and look how you betrayed me!” In her fury she grabbed Rapunzel by her lovely hair, struck her with her left hand, and with her right reached for a pair of scissors and snip-snap, the braids were severed and lay there in the dust. And she was so merciless that she took Rapunzel to a remote hideaway where the poor girl had to live in misery and want.

  But on the evening of the very same day on which she banished Rapunzel, she tied her severed braids tightly to the window knob, and when the prince came by and called:

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

  Let down your hair,"

  she let the hair down. Then when the prince climbed up, he did not find his beloved Rapunzel but the sorceress, who gave him a nasty look.

  “So,” she sneered, “you came to fetch your ladylove, but the pretty little bird has stopped singing – the cat came to get her and will also claw out your eyes. Rapunzel is lost to you, you’ll never see her again.”

  The prince was so heartbroken, in his despair he leaped out of the tower, and though he managed to come away with his life, the thorns in which he fell poked out his eyes. Then he wandered blind through the woods, ate nothing but roots and berries, and did nothing but weep and whine at the loss of his beloved. In this way, he wandered for a year and finally arrived at the remote hideaway where Rapunzel lived in misery with the twins she bore him, a boy and a girl. He heard a voice singing, and it sounded so familiar that he approached. And as he drew near, Rapunzel recognized him and fell into his arms and wept. Two of her tears wet his eyes, and wonder of wonders, he could see again as before. He led her and the children back to his kingdom, where they were warmly received, and they lived for many years together in joy and contentment.

  THE ROBBER BRIDEGROOM

  There once was a miller who had a lovely daughter, and when she grew up he wanted to make sure that she was provided for and well-married. He thought, If a proper suitor comes and asks for her hand in marriage, I will give her to him. Not long after that there came a suitor who seemed to be very rich, and since the miller found nothing wrong with him, he promised to give him his daughter in marriage. But the girl did not really like him, the way a bride ought to like a bridegroom, and did not rightly trust him – whenever she looked at him or thought of him, she felt a sense of dread in her heart.

  Once he said to her, “You are my bride-to-be and don’t even come to visit me.”

  The girl replied, “I don’t know where you live.”

  To which the bridegroom said, “My house is out in the deep, dark woods.”

  She searched for excuses and said she couldn’t find the way.

&nbs
p; The bridegroom said, “This next Sunday you must come to me. I’ve already invited all the guests, and so that you find the way through the woods, I will strew ashes.”

  When Sunday came and the girl made ready to set out, she felt so frightened, though she did not rightly know why, and so as to mark the way, she filled both her pockets with peas and lentils. Finding ashes strewn at the entrance to the woods, she followed the trail, but with every step she dropped a few peas to the right and to the left. She walked almost the entire day, until, deep in the woods where it was the darkest, she spotted a house and didn’t like the look of it, for it seemed so sinister and eerie. She went in, but there was nobody home, and there was a deathly silence. All of a sudden she heard a voice:

  “Turn back, turn back, young bride,

  A murderer lives inside.”

  The girl looked up and down and saw that the voice came from a bird in a cage hanging from the wall. Again it sang out:

  “Turn back, turn back, young bride,

  A murderer lives inside.”

  Then the lovely bride went through the entire house, from one room to another, but all was still and there was not a soul in sight. Finally she went down into the cellar, where there sat an age-old woman shaking her head. “Can you not tell me,” the girl asked, “if my bridegroom lives here?”

  “Oh you poor child,” replied the old woman, “why has fate brought you here? You’ve landed in a den of thieves. You think you’re a bride soon to be wed, but you will be wedded to death. You see, they made me fill a great cauldron of water, and once they’ve got you in their clutches, they’ll mercilessly hack you to pieces, cook you, and eat you, for man-eating cannibals live here. If I don’t take pity on you and save you, you’re surely done for.”