The Complete Grimm's Fairy Tales

by Jacob Grimm

  The Crumbs on the Table

  GEORGE ONE day said to his little chickens: “Come into the parlor and enjoy yourselves, and pick up the bread-crumbs on the table; your mistress has gone out to pay some visits.” Then the chickens said: “No, no, we will not go. If the mistress gets to know it, she will beat us.” George said: “She will know nothing about it. Do come; after all, she never gives you anything good.” Then the chickens again said: “Nay, nay, we must let it alone; we must not go.” But George let them have no peace until at last they went, and got on the table, and ate up the bread-crumbs with all their might. But at that very moment the mistress came, and seized the stick in great haste, and beat them and treated them very harshly. And when they were outside the house, the chickens said to George: “Do, do, do, do, do, you see?” Then George laughed and said: “Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t I expect it?” So they just had to run away.

  The Sea-Hare

  THERE WAS once upon a time a princess, who, high under the battlements in her castle, had an apartment with twelve windows, which looked out in every possible direction, and when she climbed up to it and looked around her, she could inspect her whole kingdom. When she looked out of the first, her sight was more keen than that of any other human being; from the second she could see still better, from the third more distinctly still, and so it went on, until the twelfth, from which she saw everything above the earth and under the earth, and nothing at all could be kept secret from her. Moreover, as she was haughty, and would be subject to no one, but wished to keep the dominion for herself alone, she caused it to be proclaimed that no one should ever be her husband who could not conceal himself from her so effectively, that it should be quite impossible for her to find him. He who tried this, however, and was discovered by her, was to have his head struck off, and stuck on a post. Ninety-seven posts with the heads of dead men were already standing before the castle, and no one had come forward for a long time. The princess was delighted, and thought to herself: “Now I shall be free as long as I live.” Then three brothers appeared before her, and announced to her that they were desirous of trying their luck. The eldest believed he would be quite safe if he crept into a lime-pit, but she saw him from the first window, made him come out, and had his head cut off. The second crept into the cellar of the palace, but she perceived him also from the first window, and his fate was sealed. His head was placed on the nine and ninetieth post. Then the youngest came to her and entreated her to give him a day for consideration, and also to be so gracious as to overlook it if she should happen to discover him twice, but if he failed the third time, he would look on his life as over. As he was so handsome, and begged so earnestly, she said: “Yes, I will grant you that, but you will not succeed.”

  Next day he meditated for a long time how he should hide himself, but all in vain. Then he seized his gun and went out hunting. He saw a raven, took a good aim at him, and was just going to fire, when the bird cried, “Don’t shoot; I will reward you!” He put his gun down, went on, and came to a lake where he surprised a large fish which had come up from the depths below to the surface of the water. When he had aimed at it, the fish cried: “Don’t shoot, and I will reward you!” He allowed it to dive down again, went onwards, and met a fox which was lame. He fired and missed it, and the fox cried: “You had much better come here and draw the thorn out of my foot for me.” He did this; but when he wanted to kill the fox and skin it, the fox said: “Stop, and I will reward you!” The youth let him go, and then as it was evening, returned home.

  Next day he was to hide himself; but no matter how he puzzled his brains over it, he did not know where. He went into the forest to the raven and said: “I let you live on, so now tell me where I am to hide myself, so that the King’s daughter shall not see me.” The raven hung his head and thought it over for a long time. At length he croaked: “I have it.” He fetched an egg out of his nest, cut it into two parts, and shut the youth inside it; then made it whole again, and seated himself on it. When the King’s daughter went to the first window she could not discover him, nor could she from the others, and she began to be uneasy, but from the eleventh she saw him. She ordered the raven to be shot, and the egg to be brought and broken, and the youth was forced to come out. She said: “For once you are excused, but if you do not better than this, you are lost!”

  Next day he went to the lake, called the fish to him and said: “I suffered you to live, now tell me where to hide myself so that the King’s daughter may not see me.” The fish thought for a while, and at last cried: “I have it! I will shut you up in my stomach.” He swallowed him, and went down to the bottom of the lake. The King’s daughter looked through her windows, and even from the eleventh did not see him, and was alarmed; but at length from the twelfth she saw him. She ordered the fish to be caught and killed, and then the youth appeared. It is easy to imagine the state of mind he was in. She said: “Twice you are forgiven, but be sure that your head will be set on the hundredth post.”

  On the last day, he went with a heavy heart into the country, and met the fox. “You know how to find all kinds of hiding-places,” said he; “I let you live, now advise me where I shall hide myself so that the King’s daughter shall not discover me.” “That’s a hard task,” answered the fox, looking very thoughtful. At length he cried: “I have it!” and went with him to a spring, dipped himself in it, and came out as a stall-keeper in the market, and dealer in animals. The youth had to dip himself in the water also, and was changed into a small sea-hare. The merchant went into the town, and showed the pretty little animal, and many persons gathered together to see it. At length the King’s daughter came likewise, and as she liked it very much, she bought it, and gave the merchant a good deal of money for it. Before he gave it over to her, he said to it: “When the King’s daughter goes to the window, creep quickly under the braids of her hair.” And now the time arrived when she was to search for him. She went to one window after another in turn, from the first to the eleventh, and did not see him. When she did not see him from the twelfth either, she was full of anxiety and anger, and shut it down with such violence that the glass in every window shivered into a thousand pieces, and the whole castle shook.

  She went back and felt the sea-hare beneath the braids of her hair. Then she seized it, and threw it on the ground exclaiming: “Away with you, get out of my sight!” It ran to the merchant, and both of them hurried to the spring, wherein they plunged, and received back their true forms. The youth thanked the fox, and said: “The raven and the fish are idiots compared with you; you know the right tune to play, there is no denying that!”

  The youth went straight to the palace. The princess was already expecting him, and abandoned herself to her fate. The wedding was solemnized, and now he was king, and lord of all the kingdom. He never told her where he had concealed himself for the third time, and who had helped him, so she believed that he had done everything by his own skill, and she had a great respect for him, for she thought to herself: “He is able to do more than I.”

  The Master-Thief

  ONE DAY an old man and his wife were sitting in front of a miserable house resting a while from their work. Suddenly a splendid carriage with four black horses came driving up, and a richly-dressed man descended from it. The peasant stood up, went to the great man, and asked what he wanted, and in what way he could serve him. The stranger stretched out his hand to the old man, and said: “I want nothing but to enjoy for once a country dish; cook me some potatoes, in the way you always have them, and then I will sit down at your table and eat them with pleasure.” The peasant smiled and said: “You are a count or a prince, or perhaps even a duke; noble gentlemen often have such fancies, but you shall have your wish.” The wife went into the kitchen, and began to wash and rub the potatoes, and to make them into balls, as they are eaten by the country-folks. Whilst she was busy with this work, the peasant said to the stranger: “Come into my garden with me for a while, I have still something to do there.” He had dug some holes
in the garden, and now wanted to plant trees in them. “Have you no children,” asked the stranger, “who could help you with your work?” “No,” answered the peasant, “I had a son, it is true, but it is long since he went out into the world. He was a ne’er-do-well; clever and knowing, but he would learn nothing and was full of bad tricks. At last he ran away from me, and since then I have heard nothing of him.”

  The old man took a young tree, put it in a hole, drove in a post beside it, and when he had shovelled in some earth and had trampled it firmly down, he tied the stem of the tree above, below, and in the middle, fast to the post by a rope of straw. “But tell me,” said the stranger, “why you don’t tie that crooked knotted tree, which is lying in the corner there, bent down almost to the ground, to a post also that it may grow straight, as well as these?” The old man smiled and said: “Sir, you speak according to your knowledge, it is easy to see that you are not familiar with gardening. That tree there is old, and mis-shapen, no one can make it straight now. Trees must be trained while they are young.” “That is how it was with your son,” said the stranger, “if you had trained him while he was still young, he would not have run away; now he too must have grown hard and mis-shapen.” “Truly it is a long time since he went away,” replied the old man, “he must have changed.” “Would you know him again if he were to come to you?” asked the stranger. “Hardly by his face,” replied the peasant, “but he has a mark about him, a birth-mark on his shoulder, that looks like a bean.” When he had said that the stranger pulled off his coat, bared his shoulder, and showed the peasant the bean. “Good God!” cried the old man, “you are really my son!” and love for his child stirred in his heart. “But,” he added, “how can you be my son, you have become a great lord and live in wealth and luxury? How have you contrived to do that?” “Ah, father,” answered the son, “the young tree was bound to no post and has grown crooked. Now it is too old, it will never be straight again. How have I come by all this? I have become a thief, but do not be alarmed, I am a master-thief. For me there are neither locks nor bolts, whatsoever I desire is mine. Do not imagine that I steal like a common thief, I only take some of the superfluity of the rich. Poor people are safe, I would rather give to them than take anything from them. It is the same with anything which I can have without trouble, cunning and dexterity—I never touch it.” “Alas, my son,” said the father, “it still does not please me, a thief is still a thief, I tell you it will end badly.” He took him to his mother, and when she heard that was her son, she wept for joy, but when he told her that he had become a master-thief, two streams flowed down over her face. At length she said: “Even if he has become a thief, he is still my son, and my eyes have beheld him once more.”

  They sat down to table, and once again he ate with his parents the wretched food which he had not eaten for so long. The father said: “If our lord, the count up there in the castle, learns who you are, and what trade you follow, he will not take you in his arms and cradle you in them as he did when he held you at the font, but will cause you to swing from a halter.” “Be easy, father, he will do me no harm, for I understand my trade. I will go to him myself this very day.” When evening drew near, the master-thief seated himself in his carriage, and drove to the castle. The count received him civilly, for he took him for a distinguished man. When, however, the stranger made himself known, the count turned pale and was quite silent for some time. At length he said: “You are my godson, and on that account mercy shall take the place of justice, and I will deal leniently with you. Since you pride yourself on being a master-thief, I will put your art to the proof, but if you do not stand the test, you must marry the rope-maker’s daughter, and the croaking of the raven must be your music on the occasion.” “Lord Count,” answered the master-thief, “think of three things, as difficult as you like, and if I do not perform your tasks, do with me what you will.” The count reflected for some minutes, and then said: “Well, then, in the first place, you shall steal the horse I keep for my own riding, out of the stable; in the next, you shall steal the sheet from beneath the bodies of my wife and myself when we are asleep, without our observing it, and the wedding-ring of my wife as well; thirdly and lastly, you shall steal away out of the church, the parson and clerk. Mark what I am saying, for your life depends on it.”

  The master-thief went to the nearest town; there he bought the clothes of an old peasant woman, and put them on. Then he stained his face brown, and painted wrinkles on it as well, so that no one could have recognized him. Then he filled a small cask with old Hungary wine in which was mixed a powerful sleeping-drink. He put the cask in a basket, which he took on his back, and walked with slow and tottering steps to the count’s castle. It was already dark when he arrived. He sat down on a stone in the court-yard and began to cough, like an asthmatic old woman, and to rub his hands as if he were cold. In front of the door of the stable some soldiers were lying round a fire; one of them observed the woman, and called out to her: “Come nearer, old mother, and warm yourself beside us. After all, you have no bed for the night, and must take one where you can find it.” The old woman tottered up to them, begged them to lift the basket from her back, and sat down beside them at the fire. “What have you got in your little cask, old hag?” asked one. “A good mouthful of wine,” she answered. “I live by trade, for money and fair words I am quite ready to let you have a glass.” “Let us have it here, then,” said the soldier, and when he had tasted one glass he said: “When wine is good, I like another glass,” and had another poured out for himself, and the rest followed his example. “Hallo, comrades,” cried one of them to those who were in the stable, “here is an old girl who has wine that is as old as herself; take a draught, it will warm your stomachs far better than our fire.” The old woman carried her cask into the stable. One of the soldiers had seated himself on the saddled riding-horse, another held its bridle in his hand, a third had laid hold of its tail. She poured out as much as they wanted until the spring ran dry. It was not long before the bridle fell from the hand of the one, and he fell down and began to snore, the other left hold of the tail, lay down and snored still louder. The one who was sitting in the saddle, did remain sitting, but bent his head almost down to the horse’s neck, and slept and blew with his mouth like the bellows of a forge. The soldiers outside had already been asleep for a long time, and were lying on the ground motionless, as if dead. When the master-thief saw that he had succeeded, he gave the first a rope in his hand instead of the bridle, and the other who had been holding the tail, a wisp of straw, but what was he to do with the one who was sitting on the horse’s back? He did not want to throw him down, for he might have awakened and have uttered a cry. He had a good idea, he unbuckled the girths of the saddle, tied a couple of ropes which were hanging to a ring on the wall fast to the saddle, and drew the sleeping rider up into the air on it, then he twisted the rope round the posts, and made it fast. He soon unloosed the horse from the chain, but if he had ridden over the stony pavement of the yard they would have heard the noise in the castle. So he wrapped the horse’s hoofs in old rags, led him carefully out, leapt upon him, and galloped off.

  When day broke, the master galloped to the castle on the stolen horse. The count had just got up, and was looking out of the window. “Good morning, Sir Count,” he cried to him, “here is the horse, which I have got safely out of the stable! Just look, how beautifully your soldiers are lying there sleeping; and if you will but go into the stable, you will see how comfortable your watchers have made it for themselves.” The count could not help laughing. Then he said: “For once you have succeeded, but things won’t go so well the second time, and I warn you that if you come before me as a thief, I will handle you as I would a thief.”

  When the countess went to bed that night, she closed her hand with the wedding-ring tightly together, and the count said: “All the doors are locked and bolted, I will keep awake and wait for the thief, but if he gets in by the window, I will shoot him.” The master-thief, howeve
r, went in the dark to the gallows, cut a poor sinner who was hanging there down from the halter, and carried him on his back to the castle. Then he set a ladder up to the bedroom, put the dead body on his shoulders, and began to climb up. When he had got so high that the head of the dead man showed at the window, the count, who was watching in his bed, fired a pistol at him, and immediately the master let the poor sinner fall down, descended the ladder, and hid himself in one corner. The night was sufficiently lighted by the moon, for the master to see distinctly how the count got out of the window on to the ladder, came down, carried the dead body into the garden, and began to dig a hole in which to lay it. “Now,” thought the thief, “the favorable moment has come,” stole nimbly out of his corner, and climbed up the ladder straight into the countess’s bedroom. “Dear wife,” he began in the count’s voice, “the thief is dead, but, after all, he is my godson, and has been more of a scape-grace than a villain. I will not put him to open shame; besides, I am sorry for the parents. I will bury him myself before daybreak in the garden, that the thing may not be known. So give me the sheet, I will wrap up the body in it, and not bury him like a dog.” The countess gave him the sheet. “I tell you what,” continued the thief, “I have a fit of magnanimity, give me the ring too,—the unhappy man risked his life for it, so he may take it with him into his grave.” She would not gainsay the count, and although she did it unwillingly she drew the ring from her finger, and gave it to him. The thief made off with both these things, and reached home safely before the count in the garden had finished his work of burying.

  What a long face the count did pull when the master came next morning, and brought him the sheet and the ring. “Are you a wizard?” said he. “Who has fetched you out of the grave in which I myself laid you, and brought you to life again?” “You did not bury me,” said the thief, “but the poor sinner on the gallows,” and he told him exactly how everything had happened, and the count was forced to own to him that he was a clever, crafty thief. “But you have not reached the end yet,” he added, “you have still to perform the third task, and if you do not succeed in that, all is of no use.” The master smiled and returned no answer.