Selected Tales of the Brothers Grimm

by Jacob Grimm

  Whereupon the old woman led the girl behind a great big barrel where she could not be seen. “Be still as a mouse,” the woman said. “Don’t stir, don’t budge, or else you’re done for. At night, when the robbers are asleep we’ll slip away – I’ve been waiting a long time for the chance to escape.” No sooner 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.

  SLEEPING BEAUTY, OR THORNY ROSE

  There once was a king and a queen who every day repeated: “Oh, if only we had a child!” But they never had one. It came to pass as the queen once sat in her bath that a frog crawled out of the water onto dry land and spoke to her: “Your wish will come true. Before a year has gone by you will give birth to a daughter.” It happened just as the frog said it would, and the queen bore a daughter who was so lovely that the king was beside himself with joy and threw a great party. He invited not only his relatives, friends, and acquaintances but also all the weird sisters, the sorceresses, so that they would be kind and well-disposed toward the child. There were thirteen in his kingdom, but because he only had twelve golden plates from which they might eat, one of them had to stay home. The festivity was celebrated with great pomp, and at the end, each of the wise women gave the child a wondrous gift: the one gave virtue, the other gave beauty, the third gave wealth, and each, in turn, gave everything there was to hope for in this world. But no sooner had the eleventh sorceress bestowed her gift than the thirteenth suddenly stormed in. She wanted to avenge the slight of not having been invited, and without greeting anyone or even looking them in the eye, she cried out in a loud voice, “In her fifteenth year the princess will prick her finger on a spinning needle and fall dead.” And without uttering another word, she turned and left the hall. Everyone was speechless with horror, when the twelfth sorceress, who had not yet bestowed her gift, stepped forward, and because she could not cancel the evil pronouncement but only mollify its effect, she said, “The princess will not die, but only fall into a hundred-year-long sleep.”

  Determined to protect his child from all misfortune, the king ordained that every spinning wheel in his kingdom be burned. But the good wishes of the other weird sisters were fulfilled, for the child grew up to be so lovely, virtuous, kind, and understanding that everyone who set eyes on her immediately had to love her. It so happened that on the very day on which she turned fifteen, the king and queen were not home, and the girl was left alone in the castle. She wandered everywhere, entered every room and chamber, and finally came to an old tower. She climbed the narrow winding stairway and came to a little door. In the lock, she spied a rusty key, and when she turned it the door sprung open, and there before her sat an old woman at a spinning wheel assiduously spinning flax.

  “Good day to you, old woman,” said the princess. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m spinning,” the old woman replied with a nod.

  “What is that thing so lustily leaping about?” asked the princess, who took the spindle and wanted to start spinning herself. But no sooner had she touched the spindle than the evil wish was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger.

  At the very moment she felt the prick, she dropped down on a bed that happened to be standing there and fell into a deep sleep. The sleep spread all over the castle – the king and the queen, who just then came home, began to yawn and soon drifted off, as did all their courtiers. Sleep fell upon the horses in the stable, the hounds in the yard, the pigeons on the roof, the flies on the wall, yes, even the fire flickering in the oven went still and fell asleep, the roast stopped roasting, and the cook who was just about to pull the ear of the kitchen boy, on account of some mistake, let go and fell asleep. And the wind went still, and not a single leaf stirred on the trees outside.

  All around the castle grew a hedge of thorns that got taller every year and finally covered the entire castle, and kept on growing until nothing more was visible, not even the flag on the rooftop. But the legend lived on of the lovely sleeping princess – Thorny Rose, that’s what they called her – so that from time to time princes came and tried to hack their way through the hedge of thorns to get to the castle. But they never made it, for the thorns held strong like stubborn hands, so the youths got caught in the tangle and, unable to tear themselves free, died miserable deaths. After many years, another prince came riding through the land and heard an old man tell of the hedge of thorns, that there was a castle hidden be
hind it, in which a lovely princess named Thorny Rose already lay sleeping for a hundred years, and with her slept the king and queen and all their courtiers. He had also heard from his grandfather that many a prince had come and tried to hack their way through the hedge, but that they had all been trapped in the tangle and died sad deaths. The youth declared, “I’m not afraid. I want to go and see the lovely Thorny Rose.” The kindly old man tried to dissuade him, but he would not listen to reason.

  But the hundred years had elapsed, as foretold, and the day came on which Thorny Rose was to wake up. When the prince approached the hedge of thorns, it burst into bloom before him with big, beautiful roses that parted in his path and let him pass through unharmed, and the hedge closed behind him. In the castle courtyard the prince saw the horses and spotted hunting hounds all lying fast asleep, on the rooftop sleeping doves sat with their wings folded over their little heads. And when he entered the royal dwelling, he saw flies asleep on the wall, the cook slumbering in the kitchen with his hand raised as if he meant to swipe the kitchen boy, and the scullery maid sitting in front of a black chicken ready to be plucked. The prince walked on and everything was so silent you could hear yourself breathing. Finally he came to the tower and opened the door to the little room in which Thorny Rose slept. There she lay, and she was so lovely that he could not take his eyes off her. He bent down and gave her a kiss. As soon as his lips grazed hers, she opened her eyes, awakened, and regarded him with a smile. Then the two went hand in hand down the stairs, and the king and queen awakened, as did the entire court, everyone eyeing each other with great astonishment. And the horses in the yard stood up and shook themselves, the hunting hounds leapt up and wagged their tails, the doves on the rooftop poked their little heads out from under their wings, looked around, and flew out into the field, the flies on the walls crawled on, the fire flickered in the oven and cooked the dinner, a roast began to sizzle, the cook boxed the kitchen boy’s ears and the boy cried out, and the scullery maid finished plucking the chicken. Whereupon the wedding of the prince and Thorny Rose was celebrated in pomp and splendor, and they lived happily together until the end of their days.

  CINDERELLA

  The wife of a rich man fell ill, and when she felt that her end was near she called her only child, a daughter, to her bed and said, “Dear child, stay pious and good. God will always stand by you, and I will peer down from heaven and look after you.” Whereupon the woman closed her eyes and died. Every day the girl went to her mother’s grave and wept, and she remained pious and good. When winter came, the snow draped a little white shroud over the grave, and come spring, when the sun pulled it off again, the man took another wife.

  The new wife brought two daughters with her, both pale and lovely to look at but cruel and black-hearted. Things went badly for the poor orphaned child. “We can’t let the foolish ninny sit around all day doing nothing in her room,” they said. “If she wants to eat, let her earn it – to work with you!” They took away her lovely clothes and gave her an old gray smock and wooden shoes to wear. “Just look at the proud little princess, what a grand getup!” They taunted her, laughed, and led her to the kitchen. She had to do hard work from morning until night, rise before sunrise, go fetch water from the well, light the fire, cook and wash for them. On top of which her stepsisters did her any nasty turns that came to mind, poked fun at her, poured peas and lentils into the ashes and made her pick them out. And in the evening, when she was weary from working, they gave her no bed to sleep in but made her lie down beside the oven in the cinder and ash. And since she was always dusty and dirty, they called her “Cinderella.”

  One day the father prepared to go to the fair, so he asked his two stepdaughters what he might bring them.

  “Pretty clothes,” said the one.

  “Pearls and diamonds,” said the other.

  “And you, Cinderella, what would you like?”

  “Father,” she said, “I’d like the first stalk that strikes your hat on your way home. Break it off and bring it to me.”

  For the two stepsisters he bought dresses, pearls, and diamonds, and on the way home, as he rode through a bush, a stalk of winterbloom grazed his coat and knocked his hat off. So he broke the stalk off and took it with him. When he got home he gave the stepsisters what they’d asked for, and he gave Cinderella the stalk of grain. She thanked him, then went to her mother’s grave and planted the stalk beside it, and she cried so hard that the tears dripped down and watered it. The stalk took root and grew into a great tree. Three times a day Cinderella went to huddle beneath it, where she wept and prayed, and every time a little white bird flew by and landed on a branch, and every time the girl whispered a wish, the little bird let fall what she’d wished for.

  Now it came to pass that the king announced a great festivity that was to last for three days, and to which all the lovely young girls in the land were invited so that his son might pick a bride. As soon as the two stepsisters received their invitations they got all giddy, called for Cinderella, and said, “Comb our hair, polish our shoes, and fasten our clasps – we’re off to the king’s castle to make a royal match.” Cinderella did as she was told but wept in silence, for she too wanted to go along to the ball, and so she asked her stepmother’s permission.

  “You, Cinderella,” she said, “dusty and dirty as you are, you want to go to the ball? You have no clothes or shoes, yet you want to dance?” But when the poor child kept pleading, she finally said, “Here’s a bowl of lentils poured into the ash. If you can pick out every one in two hours time, you can go along.”

  So the girl slipped out the back door to the garden and called out:

  “Dear little doves, little turtledoves, and all the birds in the sky,

  Come and make my poor heart glad

  And help me sift the good grains from the bad.”

  Then two little white doves flew in the kitchen window, and two turtledoves flew in after them, and soon all the birds in the sky came flapping and flying down and landed in the ash. And the little doves nodded with their little heads and started pecking: Peck, peck, peck, peck. And then the other birds got to it: Peck, peck, peck, peck. And they pecked out all the good grains and dropped them in the bowl. Hardly had an hour gone by than they were done with it and all flew away again. The girl was happy and brought the bowl to her stepmother, thinking now she could go to the ball.

  But her stepmother said, “No, Cinderella, you have no fancy clothes and you don’t know how to dance. Everyone will laugh at you.”

  When the girl cried bitter tears, the woman said, “If in one hour you can pick two bowls of lentils out of the ash, then you can go,” thinking to herself, She’ll never manage. And when the woman had poured the two bowls of lentils into the ash, the girl slipped out the back door into the garden and called:

  “Dear little doves, little turtledoves, and all the birds in the sky,

  Come and make my poor heart glad

  And help me sift the good grains from the bad.”

  Then two little white doves flew in the kitchen window, and two turtledoves flew in after them, and soon all the birds in the sky came flapping and flying down and landed in the ash. And the little doves nodded with their little heads and started pecking: Peck, peck, peck, peck. And then the other birds got to it: Peck, peck, peck, peck. And they pecked out all the good grains and dropped them in the bowls. Hardly had half an hour gone by than they were done with it and all flew away again. The girl was happy and brought the bowl to her stepmother, thinking now she could go to the ball.

  But the wicked woman said, “It’s no use, you can’t come along, since you have no fine clothes and don’t know how to dance. We’d be ashamed of you.” Whereupon she turned around and hurried off to the ball with her two proud daughters.

  Left all alone, Cinderella went to her mother’s grave, stood under the tree, and called:

  “Dear little tree, quiver and quaver,

  Be my lifesaver.”

  Then the birds threw d
own a gown of silver and gold and a pair of silk slippers embroidered with silver thread. She hastened to slip into the dress and rushed to the ball. But her stepsisters and stepmother did not recognize her and thought she must surely be a princess, so lovely did she look in her golden gown. They did not give a thought to Cinderella, convinced she was back home sifting the lentils from the ash. The prince approached her, took her by the hand, and danced with her. He did not want to dance with anyone else and so never let go of her hand, and when anyone else came over to ask her to dance, he said, “She’s my dance partner.”

  They danced until evening, whereupon she got ready to go home. But the prince said, “Permit me to accompany you,” for he wanted to see to what family the lovely girl belonged. But she slipped away and leapt into the dovecote. The prince waited until her father came, and he told him that the strange girl had leapt into the dovecote. The old man thought, Could it be Cinderella? And he called for an ax and a pick to break the dovecote in two – but there was no one in it. And when they entered the house, Cinderella lay there in the cinders in her filthy clothes, and a dim little oil lamp burned in the chimney. Cinderella had jumped out the back of the dovecote and run to the tree, where she took off her lovely gown and lay it on the grave, and the birds carried it away again, and then she slipped into her gray smock and sat herself down in the cinders in the kitchen.

  The next day, when the festivities started up again and her parents and her stepsisters went back to rejoin the party, Cinderella returned to the tree that grew beside her mother’s grave and said:

  “Dear little tree, quiver and quaver,

  Be my lifesaver.”

  Then the bird dropped down an even more splendid gown than it had the day before. And when the girl appeared at the ball in this dress, everyone marveled at her beauty. The prince had been waiting impatiently for her, and promptly took her by the hand, and she only danced with him. When others came over to ask her to dance, he said, “She’s my dance partner.” When evening fell she made ready to leave, and the prince followed her, wanting to see what house she entered, but she gave him the slip and dashed into the garden behind her house. There grew a big, beautiful tree heavy with the ripest, most luscious-looking pears. She climbed up the branches as nimbly as a squirrel, and the prince couldn’t find her. He waited until her father came and said to him, “The strange girl slipped away, and I think she climbed that pear tree.” The father thought, Could it be Cinderella? He called for a hatchet and hacked down the tree, but there was no one hiding in it. As soon as she reached the kitchen, she lay herself back down in the cinders, as usual, for she’d managed to jump off the back of the tree, brought her lovely gown back to the birds, and slipped into her gray smock.