So she sat down to spin, but the harsh thread cut her tender fingers very badly, so that the blood flowed freely. “Do you see,” said the husband, “how you are spoiling your work? I made a bad bargain in taking you! Now I must try and make a business in pots and earthen vessels: you shall sit in the market and sell them.”
“Oh, if anybody out of my father’s dominions should come and see me in the market selling earthenware,” thought the Princess to herself, “how they will laugh at me!”
However, all her excuses were in vain: she must either do that or die with hunger.
The first time all went well, for the people bought of the Princess, because she was so pretty-looking, and not only gave her what she asked, but some even laid down their money and left the pots behind. On her earnings this day they lived for some time as long as they lasted; and then the husband purchased a fresh stock of pots. With these she placed her stall at a corner of the market, offering them for sale. All at once a drunken hussar came plunging down the street on his horse, and rode right into the midst of her earthenware, and shattered it into a thousand pieces. The accident, as well it might, set her a-weeping, and in her trouble, not knowing what to do, she ran home crying, “Ah, what will become of me, what will my good man say?” When she had told her husband he cried out, “Whoever would have thought of sitting at the corner of the market to sell earthenware? but well, I see you are not accustomed to any ordinary work. There, leave off crying; I have been to the King’s palace, and asked if they were not in want of a kitchenmaid, and they have agreed to take you, and there you will live free of cost.”
Now the Princess became a kitchenmaid, and was obliged to do as the cook bade her, and wash up the dirty things. Then she put a jar into each of her pockets, and in them she took home what was left of what fell to her share of the good things, and of these she and her husband made their meals. Not many days afterwards it happened that the wedding of the King’s eldest son was to be celebrated, and the poor wife placed herself near the door of the saloon to look on. As the lamps were lit and guests more and more beautiful entered the room, and all dressed most sumptuously, she reflected on her fate with a saddened heart, and repented of the pride and haughtiness which had so humiliated and impoverished her. Every now and then the servants threw her out of the dishes morsels of rich delicacies which they carried in, and whose fragrant smells increased her regrets, and these pieces she put into her pockets to carry home. Presently the King entered, clothed in silk and velvet and having a golden chain round his neck. As soon as he saw the beautiful maiden standing at the door he seized her by the hand and would dance with her, but she, terribly frightened, refused; for she saw it was King Thrush-Beard who had wooed her, and whom she had laughed at. Her struggles were of no avail, he drew her into the ball-room, and there tore off the band to which the pots were attached, so that they fell down and the soup ran over the floor, while the pieces of meat, &c., skipped about in all directions. When the fine folks saw this sight they burst into one universal shout of laughter and derision, and the poor girl was so ashamed that she wished herself a thousand fathoms below the earth. She ran out at the door and would have escaped; but on the steps she met a man, who took her back, and when she looked at him, lo! it was King Thrush-Beard again. He spake kindly to her, and said, “Be not afraid; I and the musician, who dwelt with you in the wretched hut, are one; for love of you I have acted thus; and the hussar who rode in among the pots was also myself. All this has taken place in order to humble your haughty disposition, and to punish you for your pride, which led you to mock me.”
At these words she wept bitterly, and said, “I am not worthy to be your wife, I have done you so great a wrong.” But he replied, “Those evil days are passed: we will now celebrate our marriage.”
Immediately after came the bridemaids, and put on her the most magnificent dresses; and then her father and his whole court arrived, and wished her happiness on her wedding-day; and now commenced her true joy as Queen of the country of King Thrush-Beard.
The Twelve Hunters
Acertain King’s son, unknown to his father, was betrothed to a Maiden whom he loved very much, and once while he was sitting by her side, happy and contented, news came that his father was very ill, and desired to see him before his end. So the Prince said to his beloved, “I must go away and leave you; I will give you this ring for a memorial. When I become King I will return and take you home with me.”
So saying, he rode off; and when he arrived he found his father at the point of death. The old King said to him, “My dearest son, I have desired to see you once more before I died, that I may have your promise to marry according to my wishes;” and he named to him a certain Princess whom he was to make his bride. The young King was so grieved that he did not know what he was saying, and so promised his father that he would fulfil his wish. Soon afterwards the old King closed his eyes in death.
When the time of mourning for the late King was over, the young Prince, who had succeeded to the throne, was called upon to fulfil the promise which he had given to his father, and the Princess was betrothed to him accordingly. By chance the Maiden heard of this, and grieved so much about the faithlessness of her beloved that she fast faded away. Then her father said to her, “My dear child, why are you sad? whatever you wish for you shall have.”
For a few minutes she considered, and at last said, “Dear father, I wish for eleven maidens exactly like myself in figure and stature.”
Her father told her that if it were possible her wish should be carried out, and he ordered a search to be made in his country until eleven maidens were found resembling exactly his daughter in figure and stature. When they came to the Maiden she had twelve hunters’ dresses made all exactly alike, and each of the maidens had to put on one, while she herself drew on the twelfth. Thereupon she took leave of her father, and rode away with her companions to the court of her former betrothed, whom she loved so much. There she inquired if he needed any Huntsmen; and if he would not take them all into his service. The King looked at her without recognising her, and as they were such handsome people he consented to take them, and so they became the twelve royal Huntsmen.
The King, however, possessed a Lion who was such a wonderful beast that he knew all hidden and secret affairs. So one evening he said to the King, “Do you suppose that you have got twelve Huntsmen?” “Yes,” replied he; “twelve Huntsmen.” “You are mistaken there,” replied the Lion, “they are twelve maidens.”
“That can never be true,” said the King; “how will you prove it to me?”
“Order some peas to be strewn in your ante-room,” said the Lion, “and you will at once see; for men have a firm tread when walking on peas, and do not slip, but maidens trip, and stumble, and slide, and make the peas roll about.”
This advice pleased the King, and he ordered peas to be strewn.
Now, there was a servant of the King’s who was kind to the Huntsmen; and, as he heard that they were to be put to this trial, he went and told them all that had passed, and that the Lion wished to show the King that they were maidens. The Maiden thanked him, and told her companions to compel themselves to tread firmly on the peas. When, therefore, the next morning the King summoned the twelve Hunters, and they came into the ante-room, they trod firmly upon the peas with so sturdy a step that not one rolled or moved in the least. Afterwards, when they had left the room, the King said to the Lion, “You have deceived me; they walk like men!”
The Lion replied, “They knew that they were to be put to the proof, and so summoned all their strength. Let twelve spinning-wheels be now brought into the ante-room, and, when they come to pass them, they will be pleased at the sight thereof as no man would be.”
This advice also pleased the King, and he caused the twelve spinning-wheels to be placed in the room.
But the servant who was kind to the Hunters went and disclosed the plan to the Maiden, who instructed her eleven attendants to take no notice whatever of the spinning-wheels. The follo
wing morning the King summoned his Hunters, and they passed through the ante-room without once looking round at the spinning-wheels. So the King said to the Lion again, “You have deceived me; these are men, for they have not noticed the wheels.”
The Lion replied as before, “They knew that they should be put on trial, and they have behaved accordingly;” but the King would believe the Lion no more.
After this the twelve Hunters followed the King customarily in his sporting, and the longer he had them the more he seemed to like them. Now, it happened, that once as they were going out to the hunt, news came that the Princess who had been betrothed to the young King was on her way to his court. As soon as the true betrothed heard this, she was so much overcome that all her strength forsook her, and she fell heavily to the ground. The King soon perceived that something had happened to his best Huntsman, and ran up to help him just as his glove was drawn off. He then saw upon one finger the ring which he had given to his first love, and, as he looked in the face of the supposed Huntsman, he recognised her. At this sight his heart was so touched that he kissed her, and, as she opened her eyes, he said, “You are mine, and I am thine, and no power on earth shall make it otherwise.”
The King then sent a messenger to the Princess, begging her to return to her own country, for he had already a bride.
Soon afterwards the wedding was celebrated, and the Lion came again into favour, because, after all, he had spoken the truth.
Snow-White and the Seven Dwarfs
Once upon a time in the depth of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the clouds, a Queen sat at her palace window, which had an ebony black frame, stitching her husband’s shirts. While she was thus engaged and looking out at the snow she pricked her finger, and three drops of blood fell upon the snow. Because the red looked so well upon the white, she thought to herself, “Had I now but a child as white as this snow, as red as this blood, and as black as the wood of this frame!” Soon afterwards a little daughter was born to her, who was as white as snow, and red as blood, and with hair as black as ebony, and thence she was named “Snow-White,” and when the child was born the mother died.
About a year afterwards the King married another wife, who was very beautiful, but so proud and haughty that she could not bear any one to be better-looking than herself. She possessed a wonderful mirror, and when she stepped before it and said, it replied—
“Oh mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of us all?”
“Thou art the fairest, lady Queen.”
Then she was pleased, for she knew that the mirror spoke truly.
Little Snow-White, however, grew up, and became pretty and prettier, and when she was seven years old her complexion was as clear as the noon day, and more beautiful than the Queen herself. When the Queen now asked her mirror— it replied—
Snow-White
“Oh mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of us all?”
“Thou wert the fairest, lady Queen;
Snow-White is fairest now, I ween.”
This answer so frightened the Queen that she became quite yellow with envy. From that hour, whenever she perceived Snow-White, her heart was hardened against her, and she hated the maiden. Her envy and jealousy increased so that she had no rest day or night, and she said to a Huntsman, “Take the child away into the forest, I will never look upon her again. You must kill her, and bring me her heart and tongue for a token.”
The Huntsman listened and took the maiden away, but when he drew out his knife to kill her, she began to cry, saying, “Ah, dear Huntsman, give me my life! I will run into the wild forest, and never come home again.”
This speech softened the Hunter’s heart, and her beauty so touched him that he had pity on her and said, “Well, run away then, poor child;” but he thought to himself, “The wild beasts will soon devour you.” Still he felt as if a stone had been taken from his heart, because her death was not by his hand. Just at that moment a young boar came roaming along to the spot, and as soon as he clapt eyes upon it the Huntsman caught it, and, killing it, took its tongue and heart and carried them to the Queen for a token of his deed.
But now the poor little Snow-White was left motherless and alone, and, overcome with grief, she was bewildered at the sight of so many trees, and knew not which way to turn. Presently she set off running, and ran over stones and through thorns, and wild beasts sprang up as she passed them, but they did her no harm. She ran on till her feet refused to go farther, and as it was getting dark, and she saw a little house near, she entered it to rest. In this cottage every thing was very small, but more neat and elegant than I can tell you. In the middle stood a little table with a white cloth over it, and seven little plates upon it, each plate having a spoon and a knife and a fork, and there were also seven little mugs. Against the wall were seven little beds ranged in a row, each covered with Snow-White sheets. Little Snow-White, being both hungry and thirsty, ate a little morsel of porridge out of each plate, and drank a drop or two of wine out of each glass, for she did not wish to take away the whole share of any one. After that, because she was so tired, she laid herself down on one bed, but it did not suit; she tried another, but that was too long; a fourth was too short, a fifth too hard, but the seventh was just the thing, and tucking herself up in it she went to sleep, first commending herself to God.
When it became quite dark the lords of the cottage came home, seven Dwarfs, who dug and delved for ore in the mountains. They first lighted seven little lamps, and perceived at once—for they illumined the whole apartment—that somebody had been in, for everything was not in the order in which they had left it. The first asked, “Who has been sitting on my chair?” The second, “Who has been eating off my plate?” The third said, “Who has been nibbling at my bread?” The fourth, “Who has been at my porridge?” The fifth, “Who has been meddling with my fork?” The sixth grumbled out, “Who has been cutting with my knife?” The seventh said, “Who has been drinking out of my glass?” Then the first looking round began again. “Who has been lying on my bed?” he asked, for he saw that the sheets were tumbled. At these words the others came, and looking at their beds cried out too, “Some one has been lying in our beds!” But the seventh little man, running up to his, saw Snow-White sleeping in it; so he called his companions, who shouted with wonder and held up their seven torches, so that the light fell upon the maiden. “Oh heavens! oh heavens!” said they, “what a beauty she is!” and they were so much delighted that they would not awaken her, but left her to her repose, and the seventh Dwarf, in whose bed she was, slept with each of his fellows one hour, and so passed the night.
As soon as morning dawned Snow-White awoke, and was quite frightened when she saw the seven little men; but they were very friendly, and asked her what she was called. “My name is Snow-White,” was her reply. “Why have you entered our cottage?” they asked. Then she told them how her stepmother would have had her killed, but the Huntsman had spared her life, and how she had wandered about the whole day until at last she had found their house. When her tale was finished the Dwarfs said, “Will you see after our household; be our cook, make the beds, wash, sew, and knit for us, and keep everything in neat order? if so, we will keep you here, and you shall want for nothing.”
And Snow-White answered, “Yes, with all my heart and will:” and so she remained with them, and kept their house in order. In the mornings the Dwarfs went into the mountains and searched for ore and gold, and in the evenings they came home and found their meals ready for them. During the day the maiden was left alone, and therefore the good Dwarfs warned her and said, “Be careful of your stepmother, who will soon know of your being here; therefore let nobody enter the cottage.”
The Queen meanwhile, supposing she had eaten the heart and tongue of her daughter-in-law, did not think but that she was above all comparison the most beautiful of every one around. One day she stepped before her mirror, and said—
“
Oh mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who is the fairest of us all?”
“Thou wert the fairest, lady Queen;
Snow-White is fairest now, I ween.
Amid the forest, darkly green,
She lives with Dwarfs—the hills between.”
This reply frightened her, for she knew that the mirror spoke the truth, and she perceived that the Huntsman had deceived her, and that Snow-White was still alive. Now she thought and thought how she should accomplish her purpose, for, so long as she was not the fairest in the whole country, jealousy left her no rest. At last a thought struck her, and she dyed her face and clothed herself as a pedlar woman, so that no one could recognise her. In this disguise she went over the seven hills to the seven Dwarfs, knocked at the door of the hut, and called out, “Fine goods for sale! beautiful goods for sale!” Snow-White peeped out of the window and said, “Good day, my good woman, what have you to sell?” “Fine goods, beautiful goods!” she replied, “staysl of all colours;” and she held up a pair which was made of variegated silks. “I may let in this honest woman,” thought Snow-White; and she unbolted the door and bargained for one pair of stays. “You can’t think, my dear, how it becomes you!” exclaimed the old woman, “Come, let me lace it up for you.” Snow-White suspected nothing and let her do as she wished, but the old woman laced her up so quickly and so tightly that all her breath went, and she fell down like one dead. “Now,” thought the old woman to herself, hastening away, “now am I once more the most beautiful of all!”
Not long after her departure, at eventide, the seven Dwarfs came home, and were much frightened at seeing their dear little maid lying on the ground, and neither moving nor breathing, as if she were dead. They raised her up, and when they saw she was laced too tight they cut the stays in pieces, and presently she began to breathe again, and by little and little she revived. When the Dwarfs now heard what had taken place, they said, “The old pedlar woman was no other than your wicked mother-in-law; take more care of yourself, and let no one enter when we are not with you.”
Grimm's Fairy Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 23