by Jacob Grimm
The essential value of these tales is indeed to be held in great esteem, for they shed a new and particular light on our ancient heroic poetry in a way that nobody has ever managed to bring about. Briar Rose, who is pricked by a spindle that puts her to sleep, is actually Brunhilde, pricked by a thorn that puts her to sleep, not the one in the Niberlungenlied, but the one in the Old Norse tradition. Snow White slumbers in a glowing vivid red color, as did Snäfridr, the most beautiful woman of all, while Harald the Fair-Haired sits at her coffin for three years, similar to the faithful dwarfs, who keep watch and protect the living-dead maiden. However, the piece of apple in her mouth is a magic sleeping tablet or apple. The tale about the golden feather, which the bird drops and thus causes the king to send out his men all over the world to search for it, is nothing other than the tale of King Mark in Tristan, to whom a bird brings the golden hair of a princess, for whom he now begins to yearn. We understand much better why Loki remains stuck to a gigantic eagle through reading the tale about the golden goose in which young women and men stick to the goose when they touch it. Who doesn’t recognize Sigurd’s own story depicted in the character of the evil goldsmith, the talking bird, and the eating of the heart? The present volume conveys other enormous and outstanding episodes about Sigurd and his youth that are partly in the songs about him that we know, and these episodes help us in the difficult task of interpreting the incident about the treasure that is to be divided. Nothing is more valuable and at the same time more certain than that which flows from two sources that were separated early on and later join each other in their own riverbed. There is nothing but primeval German mythos buried in these folk tales that was thought to have been lost, and we are firmly convinced that if one were now to begin searching in all the blessed parts of our fatherland, this research would lead to neglected treasures that would transform themselves into incredible treasures and would help found the scientific study of the origins of our poetry. It is exactly the same with the numerous dialects of our language in which the majority of the words and peculiarities that have long been considered extinct continue to live without being recognized.
Our collection was not merely intended to serve the history of poetry but also to bring out the poetry itself that lives in it and make it effective: enabling it to bring pleasure wherever it can and also therefore, enabling it to become an actual educational primer. Objections have been raised against this last point because this or that might be embarrassing and would be unsuitable for children or offensive (when the tales might touch on certain situations and relations—even the mentioning of the bad things that the devil does) and that parents might not want to put the book into the hands of children. That concern might be legitimate in certain cases, and then one can easily make selections. On the whole it is certainly not necessary. Nature itself provides our best evidence, for it has allowed these and those flowers and leaves to grow in their own colors and shapes. If they are not beneficial for any person or personal needs, something that the flowers and leaves are unaware of, then that person can walk right by them, but the individual cannot demand that they be colored and cut according to his or her needs. Or, in other words, rain and dew provide a benefit for everything on earth. Whoever is afraid to put plants outside because they might be too delicate and could be harmed and would rather water them inside cannot demand to put an end to the rain and the dew. Everything that is natural can also become beneficial. And that is what our aim should be. Incidentally, we are not aware of a single salutary and powerful book that has edified the people in which such dubious matters don’t appear to a great extent, even if we place the Bible at the top of the list. Making the right use of a book doesn’t result in finding evil, but rather, as an appealing saying puts it, evidence of our hearts. Children read the stars without fear, while others, according to folk belief, insult angels by doing this.
Once again we have published diverse versions of the tales along with all kinds of relevant notes in the appendix.1 Those readers who feel indifferent about such things will find it easier to skip over them than we would have found to omit them. They belong to the book insofar as it is a contribution to the history of German folk literature. All the variants seem more noteworthy to us than they do to those who see in them nothing more than alterations or distortions of a once extant primeval prototype. In contrast, we think they are perhaps only attempts to approach the actual spirit of the prototype in many different inexhaustible ways. The repetitions of single sentences, features, and introductory passages are to be regarded as epic lines that reoccur continually as soon as the tone is struck that sets them off, and actually they should not be understood in any other way. Everything that has been collected here from oral transmission (perhaps with the exception of “Puss in Boots”) is purely German in its origins as well as in its development and has not been borrowed from any place, as one can easily prove on the basis of externals if one wanted to dispute this for individual cases. The reasons that are usually brought forth to argue that the tales have been borrowed from Italian, French, or Oriental books, which are not read by the people, especially if they live in the country, are exactly like those attempts to prove the tales stem from recent literature in which soldiers, apprentices, cannons, tobacco pipes, and other new things appear. But these things, just like the words of our contemporary language, are exactly the things that were reshaped by the lips of storytellers, and one can certainly rely on the fact that the storytellers in the sixteenth century used country troopers and shotguns instead of soldiers and cannons in their tales just as the magic helmet was used in the age of chivalry and knights, not the hat that makes people invisible.
We suspended the translation of The Pentamerone, initially promised for this volume, as well as the selection of those tales from the Gesta Romanorum, because we wanted to make space for our indigenous tales.
Kassel, September 30, 1814
Note
1. These notes are in the section “Notes to Volumes I and II” in this book.
1
THE POOR MAN AND THE RICH MAN
In olden times, when the dear Lord himself was still wandering the earth among mortals, he happened to grow tired one evening, and night descended before he could reach an inn. Then he saw two houses right in front of him, just opposite one another. One house was large and beautiful and belonged to a rich man, and the other was small and shabby and belonged to a poor man. Our dear Lord thought, “I’m sure I won’t be a burden to the rich man,” and he knocked at the door. All at once the rich man opened the window and asked what he wanted.
“A night’s lodging.”
The rich man examined the traveler from head to toe, and since the dear Lord was dressed very simply and didn’t look like he had much money in his pockets, the rich man shook his head and said, “I can’t put you up. My rooms are full of seeds. If I were to put up all the people who knocked at my door, then I’d soon have to go out begging for myself. Look for a place somewhere else.”
With that he slammed the window shut and left the dear Lord standing there. So the dear Lord turned around and went across the street to the small house. No sooner had he knocked than the poor man already had the door open and asked the traveler to enter and spend the night in his house.
“It’s already dark,” he said, “and you won’t be able to go much farther tonight.”
The Lord was pleased to hear that, and he entered the house. The poor man’s wife welcomed him by shaking his hand. She told him to make himself feel at home and to feel free to use anything they had, even though they didn’t have much. Whatever they had, he could gladly have. Then she put potatoes on the fire, and while they were cooking, she milked the goat so that they would at least have a little milk with the meal. When the table had been set, the dear Lord sat down and ate with them, and he enjoyed the meager repast because there were grateful faces around him. When they had eaten and it was time to go to bed, the wife whispered to her husband, “Listen, dear husband, let’s make
up a bed of straw for ourselves tonight so that the poor traveler can sleep in our bed and rest. He’s been traveling the whole day and is probably very tired.”
“That’s wonderful,” he answered. “I’ll go and offer it to him.”
And he went to the dear Lord and told him that, if he did not mind, he could sleep in their bed and give his limbs a proper rest.
The dear Lord didn’t want to take the old couple’s bed, but they insisted until he finally took their bed and lay down in it. Meanwhile, they made a bed of straw for themselves and lay on the ground. The next morning they were up before daybreak and cooked a pitiful breakfast for their guest. When the sun began to shine through the little window and the dear Lord stood up, he ate with them again and prepared to continue his journey. As he was standing in the doorway, however, he turned around and said, “Because you are so kind and good, I’m going to grant you three wishes, and they shall indeed be fulfilled.”
“There’s nothing I want more than eternal salvation,” said the man, “and also that we stay healthy and get our meager daily bread as long as we wish. As for the third thing, I don’t know what to wish.”
“Don’t you want to wish for a new house in place of this old one?” asked the dear Lord.
“Oh, yes,” said the man. “I’d certainly be pleased if I could have that as well.”
Right before his departure the dear Lord fulfilled their wishes, turned the old house into a new one, and departed.
When the rich man got up, it was broad daylight. As he looked out his window toward the other side of the road, he saw a beautiful new house. His eyes popped wide open, and he called his wife and said: “Take a look. How did that happen? Just yesterday there was a dumpy house standing there, and today there’s this new beautiful one. Run over and find out what happened.”
So his wife went over and asked the poor man, who told her, “Last night a traveler came by looking for a night’s lodging, and right before his departure this morning he granted us three wishes, eternal salvation, good health and our meager daily bread for the rest of our lives, and a beautiful new house in place of our old shack.”
After the rich man’s wife heard this, she hurried back and told her husband what had happened. Then the man said, “I’d like to tear myself in two and beat myself to a pulp. If I had only known! The stranger came to our house first, but I turned him away.”
“Hurry,” said his wife, “and get on your horse. The man hasn’t got far. You must catch up to him and get him to grant you three wishes, too.”
Now the rich man mounted his horse and managed to catch up with the dear Lord. He used sweet talk with the dear Lord and begged him not to take it amiss that he had not let him into his house right away, for he had gone to look for the door key, but the stranger had disappeared in the meantime. The rich man assured him that, if he passed by again, he would find a place to stay at his house.
“Very well,” said the dear Lord. “If I come back again, I shall stay with you.”
Then the rich man asked him whether he also could have three wishes, like his neighbor. The Lord said yes, but that they would not turn out well for him, and it might be best if he refrained from wishing for anything. The rich man disagreed and asserted that he’d be able to choose something good if he knew for certain that the wishes would be fulfilled.
“Just ride home,” said the dear Lord. “The three wishes you make shall be fulfilled.”
Now the rich man had what he wanted. So he rode home and began to ponder what he should wish for. As he was thus steeped in thought, he let the reins drop, and the horse began jumping so much that his thoughts were continually disturbed and he couldn’t collect them. He was so annoyed by the horse that he lost his patience and said: “I wish you’d break your neck!”
As soon as he had uttered those words, boom!—he was thrown to the ground, and the horse lay dead and didn’t move anymore. Thus the first wish had been fulfilled. Since the rich man was greedy, however, he didn’t want to leave the saddle behind. So he cut it off, swung it over his back, and proceeded on foot. Despite all this, he consoled himself that he had two wishes left. As he went walking through the sand under the blazing noonday sun, he became hot and surly. The saddle rested heavily on his back, and he was having a great deal of trouble thinking of a wish. Whenever he thought he had found the right wish, it would seem to him afterward to be too little and modest. At one point he began thinking about how easy his wife had it at home, where she was probably in a cool room and enjoying a fine meal. Just the thought of that irritated him so much that, before he knew it, he blurted out, “I wish she were sitting on this saddle at home and couldn’t get off, instead of my carrying it on my back!”
And just as the last word left his lips the saddle vanished from his back, and he realized that his second wish had been fulfilled. He became so hot now that he began to run. He was looking forward to sitting down alone in his room where he would think of something great for his last wish. However, when he arrived home and opened the door to the living room, his wife was sitting on the saddle in the middle of the room. Since she couldn’t get off, she was screaming and complaining.
“You should be happy,” he said. “I’m going to get you all the riches in the world with my wish. Just stay where you are.”
However, she yelled at him, “What good are all the riches in the world to me if I have to sit on this saddle. You wished me up here, and now you’d better get me off!”
Whether he liked it or not, he had to use the third wish to help her get rid of the saddle and climb down off of it. His wish was fulfilled at once, and so he got nothing from the wishes but irritation, wasted effort, and a lost horse. On the other hand, the poor people spent their lives happily, peacefully, and devoutly until they reached their blissful end.
2
THE SINGING, SPRINGING LARK
Once upon a time there was a man about to go on a long journey, and upon his departure he asked his three daughters what he should bring back to them. The oldest wanted pearls, the second diamonds, but the third said, “Dear father, I’d like to have a singing, springing lark.”
“Yes,” said the father. “If I can get one, you shall have it.” So he kissed all three daughters and departed.
Now, by the time he was ready for his return journey, he had purchased pearls and diamonds for the two oldest daughters, but even though he had looked all over, he had not been able to find the singing, springing lark for his youngest. He was particularly sorry about that because she was his favorite. In the meantime, his way took him through a forest, in the middle of which he discovered a magnificent castle. Near the castle was a tree, and way on top of this tree he saw a lark singing and springing about.
“Well, you’ve come just at the right time!” he said, quite pleased, and he ordered his servant to climb the tree and catch the little bird. But when the servant went over to the tree, a lion jumped out from under it, shook himself, and roared so ferociously that the leaves on the trees trembled.
“If anyone tries to steal my singing, springing lark,” he cried, “I’ll eat him up!”
“I didn’t know the bird belonged to you,” said the man. “Can I buy my way out of this?”
“No!” said the lion. “There’s nothing that can save you unless you promise to give me the first thing you meet when you get home. If you agree, then I’ll not only grant you your life, but I’ll also give you the bird for your daughter.”
However, the man refused and said, “That could be my youngest daughter. She loves me most of all and always runs to meet me when I return home.”
But the servant was very frightened and remarked, “It could also be a cat or a dog.”
The man let himself be persuaded, took the singing, springing lark with a sad heart, and promised the lion he would give him the first thing that he encountered when he reached his house.
When he now rode home, the first thing that he met was none other than his youngest and dearest daughter.
Indeed, she came running up to him, threw her arms around him, and kissed him. As soon as she saw that he had brought her a singing, springing lark, she was even more overcome by joy. But her father could not rejoice and began to weep.
“Alas, dearest child!” he said. “I’ve had to pay a high price for this bird. To get it I had to promise you to a wild lion, and when he gets you, he’ll tear you to pieces and eat you up.”
