Grimm's Fairy Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Brothers Grimm

  Rumpelstiltskin 7

  There was once a poor Miller who had a beautiful daughter; and one day, having to go to speak with the King, he said, in order to make himself appear of consequence, that he had a daughter who could spin straw into gold. The King was very fond of gold, and thought to himself, “That is an art which would please me very well;” and so he said to the Miller, “If your daughter is so very clever, bring her to the castle in the morning and I will put her to the proof.”

  As soon as she arrived the King led her into a chamber which was full of straw; and, giving her a wheel and a reel, he said, “Now set yourself to work, and if you have not spun this straw into gold by an early hour to-morrow you must die.” With these words he shut the room door and left the maiden alone.

  There she sat for a long time, thinking how to save her life; for she understood nothing of the art whereby straw might be spun into gold; and her grief became stronger and stronger, till at last she began to weep. All at once the door opened and in stepped a little Man, who said, “Good evening, fair maiden; why do you weep so sore?” “Ah,” she replied, “I must spin this straw into gold, and I am sure I don’t know how.”

  The little Man asked, “What will you give me if I spin it for you?”

  “My necklace,” said the maiden.

  The Dwarf took it, placed himself in front of the wheel and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the bobbin was full. Then he set up another, and whirr, whirr, whirr, thrice round again, and a second bobbin was full; and so he went all night long until all the straw was spun and the bobbins were full of gold. At sunrise the King came, very much astonished to see the gold; the sight of which gladdened him but did not make his heart less covetous. He caused the maiden to be led into another room, still larger, full of straw; and then he bade her spin it into gold during the night if she valued her life. The maiden was again quite at a loss what to do; but while she cried the door opened suddenly, as before, and the Dwarf appeared and asked her what she would give him in return for his assistance. “The ring off my finger,” she replied. The little Man took the ring and began to spin at once, and by the morning all the straw was changed to glistening gold. The King was rejoiced above measure at the sight of this, but still he was not satisfied; but, leading the maiden into another still larger room full of straw as the others, he said, “This you must spin during the night; but if you accomplish it you shall be my bride.” “For,” thought he to himself, “a richer wife thou canst not have in all the world.”

  When the maiden was left alone, the Dwarf again appeared, and asked for the third time, “What will you give me to do this for you?”

  “I have nothing left that I can give you,” sighed the maiden.

  “Then promise me your first-born child if you become Queen,” said he.

  The Miller’s daughter thought, “Who can tell if that will ever happen?” and, ignorant how else to help herself out of her trouble, she promised the Dwarf what he desired; and he immediately set about and finished the spinning. When morning came, and the King found all he had wished for done, he celebrated his wedding; and the fair Miller’s daughter became Queen.

  About a year after the marriage, when she had ceased to think about the little Dwarf, she brought a fine child into the world; and suddenly, soon after its birth, the very man appeared and demanded what she had promised. The frightened Queen offered him all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her her child; but the Dwarf answered, “No; something human is dearer to me than all the wealth of the world.”

  The Queen began to weep and groan so much, that the Dwarf pitied her, and said, “I will leave you three days to consider; if you in that time discover my name you shall keep your child.”

  All night long the Queen racked her brains for all the names she could think of, and sent a messenger through the country to collect far and wide any new names. The following morning came the Dwarf, and she began with “Caspar,” “Melchior,” “Bal thassar,” and all the odd names she knew; but at each the little Man exclaimed, “That is not my name.” The second day the Queen inquired of all her people for uncommon and curious names, and called the Dwarf “Ribs-of-beef,” “Sheep-shank,” “Whalebone;” but at each he said, “That is not my name.” The third day the messenger came back and said, “I have not found a single new name; but as I came to a high mountain near the edge of the forest, where foxes and hares say good night to each other, I saw there a little house, and before the door a fire was burning, and round this fire a very curious little man was dancing on one leg, and shouting—

  To-day I stew, and then I’ll bake,

  To-morrow I shall the Queen’s child take;

  Ah! how famous it is that nobody knows

  That my name is Rumpelstiltskin,”

  When the Queen heard this she was very glad; for now she knew the name; and soon after came the Dwarf, and asked, “Now, my lady Queen, what is my name?”

  First she said, “Are you called Conrade?” “No.”

  “Are you called Hal?” “No.”

  “Are you called Rumpelstiltskin?”

  “A witch has told you; a witch has told you!” shrieked the little Man; and stamped his right foot so hard in the ground with rage that he could not draw it out again. Then he took hold of his left leg with both his hands, and pulled away so hard that his right came off in the struggle, and he hopped away howling terribly. And from that day to this the Queen has heard no more of her troublesome visitor.

  Roland

  Once upon a time there lived a real old Witch who had two daughters, one ugly and wicked, whom she loved very much, because she was her own child, and the other fair and good, whom she hated, because she was her step-daughter. One day the stepchild wore a very pretty apron, which so pleased the other that she turned jealous, and told her mother she must and would have the apron. “Be quiet, my child,” said she, “you shall have it, your sister has long deserved death. To-night, when she is asleep, I will come and cut off her head; but take care that you lie nearest the wall, and push her quite to the side of the bed.”

  Luckily the poor maiden, hid in a corner, heard this speech, or she would have been murdered; but all day long she dared not go out of doors, and when bedtime came she was forced to lie in the place fixed for her: but happily the other sister soon went to sleep, and then she contrived to change places and get quite close to the wall. At midnight the old Witch sneaked in, holding in her right hand an axe, while with her left she felt for her intended victim, and then raising the axe in both her hands she chopped off the head of her own daughter.

  As soon as she went away, the maiden got up and went to her sweetheart, who was called Roland, and knocked at his door. When he came out she said to him, “Dearest Roland, we must flee at once, my stepmother would have killed me, but in the dark she has murdered her own child: if day comes, and she discovers what she has done, we are lost.”

  “But I advise you,” said Roland, “first to take away her magic wand, or we cannot save ourselves if she should follow and catch us.”

  So the maiden stole away the wand, and taking up the head dropped three drops of blood upon the ground: one before the bed, one in the kitchen, and one upon the step: this done she hurried away with her lover.

  When the morning came and the old Witch had dressed herself, she called to her daughter and would have given her the apron, but no one came. “Where are you?” she called. “Here upon the step,” answered one of the drops of blood. The old woman went out, but, seeing nobody on the step, she called a second time, “Where are you?” “Hi, hi, here in the kitchen, I am warming myself,” replied the second drop of blood. She went into the kitchen, but could see nobody, and once again she cried, “Where are you?”

  “Ah, here I sleep in the bed,” said the third drop, and she entered the room, but what a sight met her eyes! There lay her own child covered with blood, for she herself had cut off her head.

  The old Witch flew into a terrible passion, sprang out
of the window, and looking far and near presently spied out her step-daughter, who was hurrying away with Roland. “That won’t help you!” she shouted, “were you twice as far you should not escape me.” So saying, she drew on her boots, in which she went an hour’s walk with every stride, and before long she overtook the fugitives. But the maiden, as soon as she saw the Witch in sight, changed her dear Roland into a lake with the magic wand, and herself into a duck who could swim upon its surface. When the old Witch arrived at the shore, she threw in bread-crumbs, and tried all sorts of means to entice the duck; but it was all of no use, and she was obliged to go away at evening without accomplishing her ends. When she was gone the maiden took her natural form, and Roland also, and all night long till daybreak they travelled onwards. Then the maiden changed herself into a rose, which grew amid a very thorny hedge, and Roland became a fiddler. Soon after up came the old Witch, and said to him, “Good player, may I break off your flower?” “Oh! yes,” he replied, “and I will accompany you with a tune.” In great haste she climbed up the bank to reach the flower, and as soon as she was in the hedge he began to play, and whether she liked it or not she was obliged to dance to the music, for it was a bewitched tune. The quicker he played, the higher was she obliged to jump, till the thorns tore all the clothes off her body, and scratched and wounded her so much, that at last she fell down dead.

  Then Roland, when he saw they were saved, said, “Now I will go to my father, and arrange the wedding.”

  “Yes,” said the maiden, “and meanwhile I will rest here and wait for your return, and, that no one may know me, I will change myself into a red stone.”

  Roland went away and left her there, but when he reached home he fell into the snares laid for him by another maiden, and forgot his true love, who for a long time waited his coming; but at last, in sorrow and despair of ever seeing him again, she changed herself into a beautiful flower, and thought that perhaps some one might pluck her and carry her to his home.

  A day or two after a shepherd who was tending his flock in the field chanced to see the enchanted flower, and because it was so very beautiful he broke it off, took it with him, and laid it by in his chest. From that day everything prospered in the shepherd’s house, and marvellous things happened. When he arose in the morning he found all the work already done: the room was swept, the chairs and tables dusted, the fire lighted upon the hearth, and the water fetched; when he came home at noonday the table was laid, and a good meal prepared for him. He could not imagine how it was all done, for he could find nobody ever in his house when he returned, and there was no place for any one to conceal himself. The good arrangements certainly pleased him well enough, but he became so anxious at last to know who it was, that he went and asked the advice of a wise woman. The woman said, “There is some witchery in the business; listen one morning if you can hear anything moving in the room, and if you do and can see anything, be it what it will, throw a white napkin over it, and the charm will be dispelled.”

  The shepherd did as he was bid, and the next morning, just as day broke, he saw his chest open and the flower come out of it. He instantly sprang up and threw a white napkin over it, and immediately the spell was broken, and a beautiful maiden stood before him, who acknowledged that she was the handmaid who, as a flower, had put his house in order. She told him her tale, and she pleased the shepherd so much, that he asked her if she would marry him, but she said, “No,” for she would still keep true to her dear Roland, although he had left her; nevertheless, she promised still to remain with the shepherd, and see after his cottage.

  Meanwhile the time had arrived for the celebration of Roland’s wedding, and according to the old custom it was proclaimed through all the country round, that every maiden might assemble to sing in honour of the bridal pair. When the poor girl heard this, she was so grieved that it seemed as if her heart would break, and she would not have gone to the wedding if others had not come and taken her with them.

  When it came to her turn to sing, she stepped back till she was quite by herself, and as soon as she began, Roland jumped up, exclaiming, “I know the voice, that is the true bride, no other will I have!” All that he had hitherto forgotten and neglected to think of was suddenly brought back to his heart’s remembrance, and he would not again let her go.

  And now the wedding of the faithful maiden to the dear Roland was celebrated with great magnificence, and, their sorrows and troubles being over, happiness became their lot.

  The Juniper Tree8

  It is now long ago, perhaps two thousand years, there was a rich man who had a beautiful and pious wife; and they were very fond one of another, but had no children. Still they wished for some very much, and the wife prayed for them day and night; still they had none.

  Before their house was a yard; in it stood a juniper tree, under which the woman stood once in the winter peeling an apple; and as she peeled the apple she cut her finger, and the blood dropped on the snow. “Ah!” said the woman, with a deep sigh, and she looked at the blood before her, and was very sad, “had I but a child as red as blood and as white as snow;” and as she said that, she felt quite lively; and it seemed quite as if something would come of it. Then she went into the house; and a month passed, the snow disappeared; and two months, then all was green; and three months, then came the flowers out of the ground; and four months, then all the trees in the wood squeezed up against one another, and the green boughs all grew twisted together, and the little birds sang, so that the whole wood resounded, and the blossoms fell from the trees; then the fifth month had gone, and she stood under the juniper tree, it smelt so sweet, then her heart leaped for joy, and she couldn’t help falling down on her knees; and when the sixth month had passed, the fruits were large, and she was quite pleased; and the seventh month, then she snatched the berries and ate them so greedily that she was dreadfully ill; then went the eighth month, and she called her husband and cried, and said, “If I die bury me under the juniper tree;” then she was quite easy, and was glad, till the next month was gone: then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood; and when she saw it she was so delighted that she died.

  Then her husband buried her under the juniper tree, and began to cry most violently: a little time, and he was easier; and when he had cried a bit more, he left off; and a little time longer, and he took another wife.

  With the second wife he had a daughter; but the child by the first wife was a little son, and was as red as blood and as white as snow. When the woman looked at her daughter, she loved her so much; but then she looked at the little boy, and it seemed to go right through her heart; and it seemed as if he always stood in her way, and then she was always thinking how she could get all the fortune for her daughter; and it was the Evil One who suggested it to her, so that she couldn’t bear the sight of the little boy, and poked him about from one corner to another, and buffetted him here, and cuffed him there, so that the poor child was always in fear; and when he came from school he had no peace.

  Once the woman had gone into the store-room, and the little daughter came up and said, “Mother, give me an apple.” “Yes, my child,” said the woman, and gave her a beautiful apple out of the box: the box had a great heavy lid, with a great sharp iron lock. “Mother,” said the little daughter, “shall not brother have one too?” That annoyed the woman, but she said, “Yes, when he comes from school.” And as she saw out of the window that he was coming, it was just as if the Evil One came over her, and she snatched the apple away from her daughter again, and said, “You shall not have one before your brother.” She threw the apple into the box and shut it. Then the little boy came in at the door; and the Evil One made her say, in a friendly manner, “My son, will you have an apple?” and she looked at him wickedly. “Mother,” said the little boy, “how horribly you look; yes, give me an apple.” Then she thought she must pacify him. “Come with me,” she said, and opened the lid; “Reach out an apple;” and as the little boy bent into the box, the Evil One whispered to her�
�bang! she slammed the lid to, so that his head flew off and fell amongst the red apples. Then in her fright she thought, “Could I get that off my mind!” Then she went up into her room to the chest of drawers, and got out a white cloth from the top drawer, and she set the head on the throat again, and tied the handkerchief round so that nothing could be seen; and placed him outside the door on a chair, and gave him the apple in his hand. After a while little Marline came in the kitchen to her mother who stood by the fire and had a kettle with hot water before her, which she kept stirring round. “Mother,” said little Marline, “brother is sitting outside the door, and looks quite white, and has got an apple in his hand. I asked him to give me the apple, but he didn’t answer me; then I was quite frightened.” “Go again,” said the mother, “and if he will not answer you, give him a box in the ear.” Then Marline went to the brother and said, “Give me the apple;” but he was silent. Then she gave him a box on the ear, and the head tumbled off; at which she was frightened, and began to cry and sob. Then she ran to the mother and said, “Oh, mother, I have knocked my brother’s head off;” and she cried and cried, and would not be pacified. “Marline,” said the Mother, “what have you done? But be quiet, so that nobody may notice it; it can’t be helped now; we’ll bury him under the juniper tree.”