Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm: A New English Version

by Philip Pullman

  Now the king had a daughter whose hair was as golden as her mother’s had been, and who gave every promise of being as beautiful. During her childhood the king hadn’t noticed it, but one day soon after she came of age he happened to see her as the sun shone through the window on her golden hair. Suddenly he saw that she was as beautiful as her mother had been, and he fell passionately in love with her on the spot.

  He summoned the privy council and announced, ‘I have found a bride at last. There is no one in the nation as beautiful as my daughter, so I have determined to marry her.’

  The councillors were appalled.

  ‘Your majesty, this is impossible! The Lord God has forbidden any such thing! It is one of the very worst sins. No good could ever come of it, and the nation would fall into ruin!’

  As for the girl, she was horrified. Hoping to gain a little time, she said, ‘Dear father, before I marry you, I’ll need three dresses: one as gold as the sun, one as silver as the moon and one that glitters like the stars. And what’s more I must have a cloak made of a thousand different kinds of fur – one for every different kind of animal in the kingdom.’

  She thought that would be impossible, and it would keep him from carrying out his wicked plan. But the king was so mad with love that nothing would stop him. He engaged the most skilful weavers in the land to weave three kinds of cloth, and the finest designers to cut it and sew it into three magnificent dresses. Meanwhile he set his huntsmen to work in the forest, and day after day they came home with their trophies of fur and skin. The best workers in leather and fur cut a thousand different pieces and sewed them together, and before long it was clear to the girl that her father was going to supply everything she’d asked for.

  Then came a day when he said, ‘My darling, everything is nearly ready. Tomorrow we shall be married!’

  She saw there was no hope, and the only way out was to run away. When everyone in the palace was asleep, she gathered together three little things from her treasures: a gold ring, a tiny golden spinning wheel and a little golden bobbin. She folded the three dresses so small that they fitted into a nutshell, put on her thousand-fur cloak, and blackened her face and hands with soot. Then, commending herself to God, she left the palace and set out on the high road.

  She walked and walked till she came to a mighty forest. By that time the night was coming to an end, and the first birds were beginning to sing; and the princess was so tired that she found a hollow tree, curled up inside it, and was asleep in a moment.

  The sun rose, and she was still asleep. Broad daylight came, and still she slept on. Now it happened that the king who owned that forest was out hunting that very morning. His hounds caught the scent of something strange, and they ran up to the tree and circled it, barking and barking.

  ‘There’s an animal hiding in there,’ the king said to his huntsmen. ‘Go and see what it is.’

  They did as he said, and came back to say, ‘It’s a strange beast, your majesty, like nothing we’ve ever seen in these woods. Its skin seems to be made of a thousand kinds of fur, and it’s just lying there asleep.’

  ‘See if you can catch it alive,’ said the king. ‘We’ll tie it to the cart and take it back to the castle.’

  Taking care in case she was dangerous, the huntsmen reached into the hollow tree and seized the princess.

  She woke up to find herself being dragged out of her hiding place, and full of fear she cried out, ‘Don’t hurt me! I’m a poor girl, that’s all! My mother and father abandoned me and I was lost!’

  ‘Well, Thousandfurs, you’re not lost now,’ they said. ‘You’re a trophy, you are. You belong to us. We’ll take you to the kitchen and you can wash the dishes.’

  Seeing that she wasn’t a rare beast, the king himself lost interest. The huntsmen set her up on the cart and off they went, bumping over the ruts all the way back to the castle, where the domestic servants took her in and showed her a little cubbyhole under the stairs, dark and dusty.

  ‘You can live in there, you furry creature,’ they told her.

  They made her work in the kitchen. She carried wood and kept the fire going, she drew water from the well, she plucked chickens, she washed and peeled the vegetables, she washed the greasy dishes – all the dirty work was given to Thousandfurs. And there she lived as a skivvy for a long time. Ah, my lovely princess, what’s to become of you!

  Well, one day it was announced that the king was to hold a grand ball in the castle. Thousandfurs was curious to see, and she said to the cook, ‘Could I go upstairs and have a look? I’ll stay outside the door.’

  ‘Go on then,’ said the cook. ‘But make sure you’re back here in half an hour. Those ashes won’t clear themselves.’

  Thousandfurs took a lamp and a bowl of water and went into her cubbyhole. There she took off her cloak and washed her hands and face, so that her beauty was clear to see. Then she opened the nutshell and took out the dress that was as gold as the sun, and put that on, and then she went upstairs to the ballroom. All the servants bowed to her, and the guests smiled politely, because everyone thought she must be a princess.

  When the king saw her he felt as if a thunderbolt had struck his heart. He’d never seen such beauty in all his life. He danced with her, half dazed, and when the dance was over, she curtseyed and vanished so quickly that he didn’t see where she went. He made enquiries of every guard and every sentry: had she left the castle? Had anyone seen where she’d gone?

  But no one had, because she’d slipped away very quickly and gone back to her cubbyhole. She folded the dress away, put on her fur cloak, dirtied her face and hands, and once again she was Thousandfurs the kitchen maid.

  She began to clear the ashes away, but the cook said, ‘Leave that till tomorrow. I’ve got another job for you: make some soup for the king while I go and have a look upstairs. But mind you don’t let a hair fall into it, or there’ll be no food for you from now on.’

  The cook went upstairs, and Thousandfurs set about making some bread soup, as well as she knew how. When it was ready she got her gold ring and placed it in the king’s bowl.

  After the ball was over the king called for his soup, and it tasted so good that he thought he’d never tasted better. And when he reached the bottom of the bowl . . .

  ‘What’s this? A gold ring? How in the world did that get in there? Send for the cook!’

  The cook was terrified. As he hurried out of the kitchen he said to Thousandfurs, ‘You must have let a hair fall in the soup. Didn’t I warn you about that? Just you wait till I get back. You’ll be black and blue, my girl.’

  The cook came before the king, trembling and twisting his apron in his hands.

  ‘Did you make this soup?’ said the king. ‘Stop fiddling. Stand up straight.’

  ‘Yes, your majesty,’ said the cook faintly.

  ‘You’re not telling the truth. This is different from what you normally send up, and it’s much better. Who made it, eh?’

  ‘I’m sorry, your majesty, yes, you’re right, sire, it wasn’t me; it was that little furry skivvy.’

  ‘Send her up here.’

  When Thousandfurs arrived the king said, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m a poor child who has no mother or father.’

  ‘How did you come to work in my castle?’

  ‘I was found in a tree, sire.’

  ‘H’mm. And where did you get this ring?’

  ‘I don’t know anything about a ring, your majesty.’

  The king thought she must be simple, and dismissed her.

  Some time later there was another ball, and as before Thousandfurs asked the cook for permission to go upstairs and have a look.

  ‘Well, all right,’ he said. ‘Half an hour, that’s all. And then come back here and make that bread soup the king likes so much.’

  Thousand
furs ran to her cubbyhole, washed herself quickly, and put on the dress that was as silver as the moon. She went up into the ballroom, and the king saw her at once through all the crowd of dancers, for she was even more beautiful than before. They danced together, and it only seemed like a moment to him, for as soon as the dance was over she disappeared at once.

  She ran down to her cubbyhole, put the dress away, and became Thousandfurs again before hurrying into the kitchen to make some bread soup. While the cook was upstairs watching the dancing, she put the little golden spinning wheel into the bowl and poured the soup over it.

  And as before the king found it and sent for the cook, and the cook admitted that it was again Thousandfurs who’d made it, so the king sent for her.

  ‘I have to say I’m puzzled by you,’ he said to her. ‘Tell me again where you came from.’

  ‘From a hollow tree, your majesty.’

  No, he thought, the poor girl must have lost her wits. Such a shame – she might be pretty under all that dirt. But she plainly knew nothing about the little golden spinning wheel, so he sent her away.

  When the king gave a third ball, everything happened as before. The cook was getting suspicious, though, and he said, ‘I think you must be a witch, you furry creature. You always put something in the soup that makes the king like it more than mine.’ But he was good-natured enough, and he let her go up and look at the lords and ladies as she’d done before.

  She put on the dress that glittered like the stars and hurried to the ballroom. The king had never seen anyone as lovely, and he ordered the orchestra to play a very long dance so that he might have the chance to talk to her. She was as light in his arms as the starlight itself, but she said very little; however, he did manage to slip a ring on her finger without her noticing it.

  When the dance was over her half hour was up, so she tried to slip away. They had a little struggle, because he wanted to hold on to her, but she was too quick for him and ran out before he could stop her.

  When she got back to her cubbyhole, she didn’t have time to take the dress off, so she put her fur cloak on over it and then dirtied herself, but in her haste she missed one finger, which remained clean. Then she hurried to make the soup, and while the cook was upstairs she put her golden bobbin into it just as before.

  When the king found the bobbin he didn’t waste time calling the cook, but sent for Thousandfurs directly. As soon as she came, he saw her one white finger, and the ring he’d put on it while they were dancing. He seized her hand and held it fast, and as she struggled the fur cloak came open a little and revealed the glitter of the starry dress. The king pushed back the hood of her cloak, and her gold hair fell down; and then he pulled the cloak off altogether, and revealed the lovely princess he’d been dancing with not half an hour before. When her face and hands were washed, no one could deny that she was more beautiful than anyone who had ever lived.

  ‘You shall be my dearest bride,’ said the king. ‘And we shall never part.’

  Their wedding was celebrated soon afterwards, and they lived happily for the rest of their lives.

  ***

  Tale type: ATU 510B, ‘Peau d’Asne’

  Source: a story told to the Grimm brothers by Dortchen Wild

  Similar stories: Giambattista Basile: ‘The Bear’ (The Great Fairy Tale Tradition, ed. Jack Zipes); Italo Calvino: ‘Wooden Maria’ (Italian Folktales); Charles Perrault: ‘Donkey-Skin’ (Perrault’s Complete Fairy Tales); Giovanni Francesco Straparola: ‘Tebaldo’ (The Great Fairy Tale Tradition, ed. Jack Zipes)

  This tale begins very well: the king promising his wife to marry no one less beautiful than she is after she dies, and then falling in love with his own daughter . . . But halfway through, when the princess runs away, we see no more of the obsessed father; the story changes altogether and becomes a variant of ‘Cinderella’. What happened to the incest theme? It seems to me that running away is no way for a story to deal with something so dramatic. It deserves a better resolution than that.

  Straparola’s version realizes that, and makes the king, Tebaldo, pursue his daughter relentlessly. Taking a hint from that, I would continue the tale the Grimms have given us by letting the good king and his new bride live happily and have two children. One day a merchant would arrive at the palace with a case full of pretty toys. He would give a toy to the boy and another to the girl, and say, ‘Remember me to your mother.’ They would run to show her a golden spinning wheel, a golden bobbin. Troubled, she would order this merchant to be brought to her, but he would have vanished.

  Next day would be Sunday, and she would see him in the crowd as the royal family goes to the cathedral. He would look at her and smile, and there would be no doubt: her father. For the first time, she would confess to her husband the horror that led her to flee her home and become Thousandfurs. He would be appalled, and order that this merchant be sought out and arrested.

  That evening, the queen would go to confession, afraid that she is somehow to blame for her father’s abominable lust. The priest would assure her that she is innocent, but that she is misjudging her father, whose love for her is pure and holy. Furthermore, love between fathers and daughters is sanctified by holy scripture, as in the case of . . .

  At that point she would recognize his voice and run, calling for help, only to find herself locked inside the church with her father. Her screams would arouse the guard, and they would break down the door to find the false priest on the point of ravishing her.

  At the orders of the king, the villain would be taken away and hanged. After his death his arms and legs would be cut off and buried separately in unconsecrated ground.

  That night the queen would wake from troubled dreams to find earthy fingers probing her lips: her father’s right arm. Mad with terror, she would scream for her husband, only to find him in the bed next to her on the point of death by strangulation: her father’s left arm. No one can help but herself. She would tear the arm away from her face and thrust it into the fire, and then do the same with the other from her husband’s throat, and pile on more wood till they blazed up and finally crumbled into ashes.

  I think that would work quite well.

  THIRTY-ONE

  JORINDA AND JORINGEL

  Once upon a time there was an ancient castle in the middle of a deep forest, where an old woman lived all by herself. She was a powerful witch. Every day she turned herself into a cat or an owl, and every evening she turned herself back into her human form. She knew how to capture birds and other game, which she would slaughter and then roast and eat. If any man came within a hundred steps of the castle, she would cast a spell over him, making him unable to move until she freed him. If an innocent girl came that close, however, the old woman would change her into a bird and force her into a wicker basket. Then she would carry the basket up to a room in the castle, where she kept more than seven thousand other birds of this kind.

  Now at that time there was a girl called Jorinda, who people said was the most beautiful girl in the whole kingdom. She was betrothed to a handsome boy called Joringel. It wasn’t long before their marriage, and they loved nothing more than to be in each other’s company.

  One afternoon they wanted to be alone, so they went for a walk in the forest. ‘We must be careful not to go too close to the castle,’ Joringel said.

  It was a lovely evening; the sun shone warmly on the tree trunks against the dark green of the deep woods, and turtledoves cooed mournfully in the old beech trees. From time to time Jorinda wept, though she didn’t know why. She sat down in the sunlight and sighed, and Joringel sighed too. They felt as sad as if they were close to death. In the intensity of their emotions they lost track of where they were, and couldn’t find the way home.

  When the sun had not quite set, when it was half below and half above the mountains, Joringel, searching for the right path, parted the leaves of a bush and
saw the wall of the castle only a few yards away. It was such a shock that he nearly fainted. In the same moment he heard Jorinda beginning to sing:

  ‘My little bird with the red, red ring,

  Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow sing;

  My sweet bird with the ring so red,

  The lovely turtledove is—’

  But she couldn’t complete the verse. Instead Joringel heard a nightingale pouring out its song, and he saw to his horror that there was indeed a nightingale perching on a branch just where Jorinda had been standing. Not only that, but a night owl with glowing eyes was flying around her. It flew around three times, crying: ‘To-whoo! To-whoo! To-whoo!’

  And Joringel himself had been turned to stone. He couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out, couldn’t even blink. It was almost dark by then. The owl flew into a bush and he lost sight of it, but then the leaves rustled and out came a bent old woman, haggard and yellow, with blood-red eyes and a crooked nose whose tip almost touched her chin. Mumbling to herself, she snatched the nightingale from the branch and carried it away.

  And Joringel couldn’t cry out, couldn’t move a muscle. The nightingale was gone.

  Before long the old woman came back empty-handed. In a cracked old voice she said, ‘When the moon shines into the basket, Zachiel, set him free.’

  And at that moment Joringel felt his limbs loosen, and he was able to move again. He flung himself to his knees before the old woman and cried, ‘Oh, please give me back my Jorinda!’

  ‘Never!’ said the witch. ‘You’ll never get her back.’

  He pleaded, he cried aloud, he wept, but nothing would change her mind. She didn’t stop to listen, but left him crying, ‘Oh, what’s to become of me?’

  He left the castle, and made his way to a village where he wasn’t known. There he found work as a shepherd, which kept him there for a long time. He often went back to gaze at the castle, but never went close.

  One night he had a strange dream: he dreamed he had found a beautiful red flower with a pearl nestling in its petals. In the dream he plucked the flower and took it to the castle, where he could open every door and every wicker bird cage just by touching it with the flower, and he managed to free his Jorinda.