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

by Brothers Grimm

  “He that cuts a reel shall die,

  And he that winds shall perish.”

  The Man listened, laid down his axe, and wondered what the voice meant. At last he said, “Ah! well! what should it be? it was nothing but some fancy in my head, about which I need not fear!” So saying, he seized his axe and began again; but the voice sang as before—

  “He that cuts a reel shall die,

  And he that winds shall perish.”

  The Man stopped again, and began to feel very uncomfortable and frightened; but he soon took courage and began to chop again. At the same time the voice cried again—

  “He that cuts a reel shall die,

  And he that winds shall perish.”

  This time he was too frightened to do anything more, and hastily leaving the tree he set out homewards. Meanwhile his Wife, by a bypath, and by means of great exertion, reached home before him; and when he arrived she looked as innocent as if nothing had happened, and inquired of her husband if he had brought a good reel? “No, no!” he said; “I can see very well that it is of no use; winding won’t do!” and then, after telling her all that had happened, he ceased to scold her for her idleness.

  But only for a while, for soon the disorder in his house began to vex him again. “Wife, wife!” he said, “it is surely a shame that you leave your thread in that ravel.” “Well, do you know what to do?” said she; “since we can get no reel, do you lie down on the floor, and I will stand above you, and then you must throw the thread up to me, and I will send it back to you, and so we will make a skein.” “Ah! yes, that will do,” said the Man; and they pursued this plan, and as soon as the skein was ready he talked of its being boiled. This aggravated the woman again, and she bethought herself of some new plot, while she consented to do as he proposed. Early in the morning, accordingly, she got up, made a fire, and, putting on the kettle, put a lump of tow into it instead of the skein of thread, and left it to soak. This done, she went to her husband, who was still in bed, and said to him, “I have to go out now; but do you get up at once and see after the thread which is in the kettle over the fire; and mind you are very attentive to it, for if by chance the cock should crow before you look at it the thread will all turn to tow.”

  The husband thereupon got up at once, and stopped for no further directions, but, running as quick as he could into the kitchen, he looked into the kettle, and grew pale with affright; the thread was already changed into tow. After this the poor man was as still as a mouse, for he believed that it was his fault that the thread was spoiled; and for the future he dared say nothing about thread and spinning.

  But I must confess that after all the Woman was indeed an idle, slovenly wife.

  The Donkey Cabbages

  Once upon a time there was a young Sportsman who was out in search of game. He had an honest and merry heart, and whistled as he went along; and by-and-by he met an ugly old Woman, who spoke to him and said, “Good-day, my good Huntsman; you are merry and well fed, but I am suffering from hunger and thirst; give me an alms, I pray you.” The Sportsman pitied the poor woman, and, putting his hand in his pocket, gave her what he could afford. As soon as he had done so, he was walking on; but the Woman stopped him, and said to him, “Listen to what I have to say; for your good-heartedness I will make you a present; go now straight along this road, and soon you will come to a tree whereon sit nine birds, quarrelling over a cloak which one will have. Aim at them with your gun, and shoot in the midst of them; then, not only the mantle will drop, but also one of the birds will fall down dead. Take the cloak with you; it is a wishing-cloak, which if you put on your shoulders, you have only to wish yourself where you would be, and at the moment you will be there. Take out also the heart of the dead bird, and swallow it whole, and then every morning when you arise you will find a gold piece under your pillow.”

  The Huntsman thanked the wise Woman, and thought to himself, “These indeed are good gifts, if they turn out as is promised.” He had not gone a hundred yards from the spot before he heard a great chirping and rustling among the trees, and, looking up, he saw on one of them a bevy of birds, who were plucking at a cloth with their bills and claws, tearing it among them, for each one wanted it for itself. “Now, this is wonderful!” cried the Sportsman; “it is come to pass just as the old woman promised!” and, lifting his gun to his shoulder, he shot at the birds, who all flew away but one, which fell dead with the cloak over which they had been disputing. Then the Huntsman did as the old Wife had said; he cut out the heart of the bird and swallowed it whole, but the cloak he took home with him.

  The next morning when he awoke he remembered the promise, and, lifting his pillow up, he found under it a bright, shining piece of gold. The morrow morning it was the same, and so it went on: every day he got up he found another piece. Soon he collected a heap of gold, and thought, “What use is all this gold to me if I stay at home? I will go away and look about the world.”

  So he took leave of his parents, and, hanging around him his belt and pouch, he set out on his travels. One day it chanced that he passed through a thick forest, and as he came to the end of it he saw in the distance before him a magnificent castle. At one window of it stood an old Woman, with a wonderfully beautiful Maiden by her side, looking out. But this old lady was a Witch, and said to her daughter, “Here comes one out of the forest who has a wonderful treasure in his body, which we must have; for, my beloved daughter, it is more fit for us than for him: it is a bird’s heart, and whoever possesses it finds a gold piece every morning under his pillow.” She further told her daughter how it was to be procured, and what she was to do; and threatened her, if she did not obey, to visit her with some misfortune. As soon as the Huntsman approached he perceived the Maiden, and said to himself, “I am weary enough with travelling about, so I will now rest, and turn into this fine castle, for I have money enough.” But the real reason was the beautiful face which he saw at the windows.

  He entered the house, and was hospitably received and courteously entertained; and soon it came to pass that he was so in love with the daughter of the Witch that he could think of nothing else, and followed her with his eyes everywhere, willing to do all she wished. Then the old Woman said, “Now we must get the bird’s heart, for he will not miss it when it is gone!” She concocted, therefore, a drink; and when it was ready she put it into a cup and gave it to her daughter, who had to hand it to the Huntsman, and say, “Now, dearest, drink to me!” He took the cup, and as soon as he had swallowed the draught the heart fell out of his mouth. The Maiden carried it secretly away, and then swallowed it, for the old Woman wanted it herself. Ever after the Huntsman no longer found gold pieces under his pillow, for they lay now beneath the Maiden’s head, and the old Witch fetched them every morning. But he never troubled himself about the matter, and was content so long as he passed his time with the Maiden.

  Soon the old Witch began to say to her daughter, “We have the bird’s heart, but not the cloak, which we ought also to have.” This the Maiden would fain have left him, since he had lost his riches; but the old mother flew into a passion, and said, “This cloak is a wonderful thing, and such as is seldom found in the world, and I must and will have it!” With these words she beat her daughter, and vowed, if she did not obey her, to do her some injury. The daughter, therefore, at the bidding of her mother, placed herself at the window one day, and looked sadly at the far distance. “Why stand you so sorrowfully there?” asked the Huntsman. “Ah, my treasure!” she replied, “over there lies the granite mountain, where grow precious stones, and when I think about them I become quite sad, for I long so for them; but who can get them? only the birds which fly to and fro; no man ever can.”

  “Is that all that you have to complain of?” said the Huntsman; “then I will soon remove that grief from your heart.”

  Thereupon he put her under his cloak, and wished himself over the granite mountain; and in a moment they were set down in the place. There glittered the precious stones on all sides, s
o that it was a pleasure to see them; and they collected the most costly ones together. But now the Witch had caused by her arts a great drowsiness to come over the poor Huntsman, and he said to the Maiden, “We will sit down and rest awhile, for I am so tired I cannot keep upon my feet.” So they sat down, and he laid his head in her lap and went to sleep; and while he slept the Maiden took the cloak from his shoulder and threw it over her own back, and then, gathering up the precious stones, she wished herself home again.

  By-and-by the Huntsman awoke, and found that his mistress had deceived him, and left him alone on the wild mountain. “Alas!” he cried, “what faithlessness there is in the world!” and he remained lost in care and anxiety, ignorant what to do.

  The mountain belonged to some rough and mighty Giants, who dwelt upon it and earned their living there; and in a short time the Huntsman perceived three of them striding towards him. He laid himself down and feigned to be in a deep sleep, and presently the three Giants came striding along, and the first kicked him with his foot and exclaimed, “What earthworm is this lying here?” “Tread him to death!” said the second Giant. But the third said, contemptuously, “That is not worth while; let him alone, he cannot remain here, and if he climbs higher up the hill the clouds will take him and carry him away.” After this conversation they went away; but the Huntsman had noted all they said, and as soon as they were gone he got up and climbed to the top of the mountain. After he had sat there a little while a cloud came sweeping by, which caught him up and carried him floating about the air. Then it began to sink down over a large walled-in vegetable garden, where, among cabbages and other herbs, he fell softly to the ground. There the Huntsman looked round, and said, “If I had only something to eat, for with the distance I have travelled I am very hungry; but here I cannot see a single apple, berry, or fruit of any kind; everywhere nothing but cabbages.” At length he thought that out of necessity he would eat a salad, which, although it had not a delicate flavour, would yet refresh him. Thereupon he looked out for a good head of cabbage, and ate thereof; but he had scarcely tasted a couple of bites before he felt a wondrous change come over him, and found himself quite transformed. From his body grew four legs, a thick head, and two long ears; and he perceived with anguish that he was changed into a donkey! Still, however, his appetite was not appeased, and because the cabbage tasted well now to his animal appetite he ate with greater pleasure. At last he tasted a different kind, and immediately he felt another change come over him, and his human form returned.

  The Huntsman now lay down and slept with weariness; and when he awoke in the morning he broke off a head of the bad and one of the good cabbages, and thought to himself, “These shall help me to my own again and punish the faithless one.” With these words he concealed the cabbages about him, and, clambering over the wall, he set out to search for the castle of his love. He luckily discovered it when he had journeyed only a couple of days, and, quickly browning his face so that his own mother would not have recognised him, he went into the castle and begged a night’s lodging. “I am so tired,” he said, “I can go no further.” The Witch asked him who he was and what was his business; and he told her he was one of the King’s messengers, and had been sent to seek the most delicate cabbage which grew upon the earth. “I have been successful,” said he, “and have the herb with me; but the heat of the sun is so strong that the tender leaves threaten to wither, and I know not if I can carry it farther.”

  As soon as the old Woman heard of this precious cabbage she became very agreeable, and begged the Huntsman to allow her to taste the vegetable. “Why not?” he replied; “I have got two cabbages with me, and will give you one;” and, opening his sack, he handed her the bad herb. The Witch, suspecting nothing wrong, took the cabbage into the kitchen to cook it, for her mouth watered for the unknown delicacy. As soon as it was ready she could not wait till it was put on the table, but snatched a part of it, and put it into her mouth. Scarcely had she swallowed it when she lost her human form, and ran like a donkey into the stable-yard. Presently the servant went into the kitchen and saw the cabbage ready dressed, which she took up to carry in-doors; but, according to old custom, she tasted it on the way to the parlour. Immediately the charm began to work, and she became a donkey, and ran away to the other; while the dish fell on the ground, and its contents were spilled. The messenger meanwhile sat with the Maiden, and when the cabbage did not come she took a fancy to have some also, and wondered where it was. The Huntsman thought, “The cabbage has begun to work!” and said to the Maiden, “I will go into the kitchen and see what has happened.” As soon as he went down he saw the two donkeys running about the court, and the cabbage lying on the floor. “All right!” cried he; “two have received their share!” and, picking up the rest of the cabbage, he laid it on a dish and took it to the Maiden. “I have brought you this delicate dish myself,” said he, “that you may not have to wait longer.” Thereupon she ate some of it, and soon, like the rest, lost her human form, and ran as a donkey round the court.

  Afterwards, when the Huntsman had washed his face, so that the changed ones might recognise him, he went down into the court, and said to the three, “Now you shall be rewarded for your inconstancy!” He bound them all three together with a rope, and drove them away to a mill. There he knocked at the window, and the Miller, putting his head out, asked him what his wishes were. “I have three unruly animals here,” he said, “whom I cannot keep any longer. Will you take them of me, and give them food and work, and treat them as I will tell you; because, if so, you shall have what you wish for so doing?”

  “Why not?” replied the Miller; “but how shall I treat them?” The Huntsman told him that the old donkey, which was the Witch, must be given daily three beatings and one meal only; that the youngest, which was the Servant, should receive one beating and three meals; but the other, which was the Maiden, no blows, but three meals; for he could not make up his mind to cause her pain. Thereupon the Huntsman returned to the castle, in which he found all that he wanted. After three days came the Miller, and told him he wished to mention that the donkey for whom he had ordered only one meal and three beatings was dead. “The two others,” he said further, “are certainly not dead, for they eat their three meals a day, but they are so weak and ill they cannot last very long.” At this relation the Huntsman pitied the poor beasts, and told the Miller to drive them up again. As soon as they came he gave them a piece of the good cabbage to eat, and in a few minutes their human form returned. Then the beautiful Maiden fell on her knees before him, and said, “Oh, my dear Huntsman, pardon me for the wrong I did you, for it was not of my own free will, but because my mother compelled me, that I acted so; then and now I love you with my whole heart. Your wishing-cloak hangs in yon closet, and the heart of the bird I will bring to you again.”

  When she had thus spoken the Huntsman pardoned her freely, and begged her to keep the heart, for he meant to make her his bride. Soon afterwards the marriage was performed, and they lived happily together to the end of their lives.

  Little One-Eye, Little Two-Eyes, and Little Three-Eyes12

  Once upon a time there was a Woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was named One-Eye, because she had but a single eye, and that placed in the middle of her forehead; the second was called Two-Eyes, because she was like other mortals; and the third Three-Eyes, because she had three eyes, and one of them in the centre of her forehead, like her eldest sister. But, because the second sister had nothing out of the common in her appearance, she was looked down upon by her sisters, and despised by her mother. “You are no better than common folks,” they would say to her; “you do not belong to us;” and then they would push her about, give her coarse clothing, and nothing else to eat but their leavings, besides numerous other insults as occasion offered.

  Once it happened that Two-Eyes had to go into the forest to tend the goat; and she went very hungry, because her sisters had given her very little to eat that morning. She sat down upon a hillock, an
d cried so much that her tears flowed almost like rivers out of her eyes! By-and-by she looked up, and saw a Woman standing by her, who asked, “Why are you weeping, Two-Eyes?” “Because I have two eyes like ordinary people,” replied the maiden, “and therefore my mother and sisters dislike me, push me into corners, throw me their old clothes, and give me nothing to eat but what they leave. To-day they have given me so little that I am still hungry.” “Dry your eyes, then, now,” said the wise Woman; “I will tell you something which shall prevent you from being hungry again. You must say to your goat:—and immediately a nicely-filled table will stand before you, with delicate food upon it, of which you can eat as much as you please. And when you are satisfied, and have done with the table, you must say:—and it will disappear directly.” With these words the wise Woman went away, and little Two-Eyes thought to herself she would try at once if what the Woman said were true, for she felt very hungry indeed:— said the maiden, and immediately a table covered with a white cloth stood before her, with a knife and fork, and silver spoon; and the most delicate dishes were ranged in order upon it, and everything as warm as if they had been just taken away from the fire. Two-Eyes said a short grace, and then began to eat; and when she had finished she pronounced the words which the wise Woman had told her:—and directly the table, and all that was on it, quickly disappeared. “This is capital housekeeping,” said the maiden in high glee; and at evening she went home with her goat, and found an earthen dish which her sisters had left her filled with their pickings. She did not touch it; and the next morning she went off again without taking the meagre breakfast which was left out for her. The first and second time she did this the sisters thought nothing of it; but when she did the same the third morning their attention was roused, and they said, “All is not right with Two-Eyes; for she has left her meals twice, and has touched nothing of what was left for her; she must have found some other way of living.” So they determined that One-Eye should go with the maiden when she drove the goat to the meadow, and pay attention to what passed, and observe whether any one brought her to eat or to drink.