Grimms' Fairy Tales - 19

her away again about her business.
After a time there was another feast, and Cat-skin asked the cook to let
her go up and see it as before. ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘but come again in half
an hour, and cook the king the soup that he likes so much.’ Then she
ran to her little cabin, washed herself quickly, and took her dress
out which was silvery as the moon, and put it on; and when she went in,
looking like a king’s daughter, the king went up to her, and rejoiced at
seeing her again, and when the dance began he danced with her. After the
dance was at an end she managed to slip out, so slyly that the king did
not see where she was gone; but she sprang into her little cabin, and
made herself into Cat-skin again, and went into the kitchen to cook the
soup. Whilst the cook was above stairs, she got the golden necklace and
dropped it into the soup; then it was brought to the king, who ate it,
and it pleased him as well as before; so he sent for the cook, who
was again forced to tell him that Cat-skin had cooked it. Cat-skin was
brought again before the king, but she still told him that she was only
fit to have boots and shoes thrown at her head.
But when the king had ordered a feast to be got ready for the third
time, it happened just the same as before. ‘You must be a witch,
Cat-skin,’ said the cook; ‘for you always put something into your soup,
so that it pleases the king better than mine.’ However, he let her go up
as before. Then she put on her dress which sparkled like the stars, and
went into the ball-room in it; and the king danced with her again, and
thought she had never looked so beautiful as she did then. So whilst
he was dancing with her, he put a gold ring on her finger without her
seeing it, and ordered that the dance should be kept up a long time.
When it was at an end, he would have held her fast by the hand, but she
slipped away, and sprang so quickly through the crowd that he lost sight
of her: and she ran as fast as she could into her little cabin under
the stairs. But this time she kept away too long, and stayed beyond the
half-hour; so she had not time to take off her fine dress, and threw her
fur mantle over it, and in her haste did not blacken herself all over
with soot, but left one of her fingers white.
Then she ran into the kitchen, and cooked the king’s soup; and as soon
as the cook was gone, she put the golden brooch into the dish. When the
king got to the bottom, he ordered Cat-skin to be called once more, and
soon saw the white finger, and the ring that he had put on it whilst
they were dancing: so he seized her hand, and kept fast hold of it, and
when she wanted to loose herself and spring away, the fur cloak fell off
a little on one side, and the starry dress sparkled underneath it.
Then he got hold of the fur and tore it off, and her golden hair and
beautiful form were seen, and she could no longer hide herself: so she
washed the soot and ashes from her face, and showed herself to be the
most beautiful princess upon the face of the earth. But the king said,
‘You are my beloved bride, and we will never more be parted from each
other.’ And the wedding feast was held, and a merry day it was, as ever
was heard of or seen in that country, or indeed in any other.


SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED

There was once a poor widow who lived in a lonely cottage. In front of
the cottage was a garden wherein stood two rose-trees, one of which bore
white and the other red roses. She had two children who were like the
two rose-trees, and one was called Snow-white, and the other Rose-red.
They were as good and happy, as busy and cheerful as ever two children
in the world were, only Snow-white was more quiet and gentle than
Rose-red. Rose-red liked better to run about in the meadows and fields
seeking flowers and catching butterflies; but Snow-white sat at home
with her mother, and helped her with her housework, or read to her when
there was nothing to do.
The two children were so fond of one another that they always held each
other by the hand when they went out together, and when Snow-white said:
‘We will not leave each other,’ Rose-red answered: ‘Never so long as we
live,’ and their mother would add: ‘What one has she must share with the
other.’
They often ran about the forest alone and gathered red berries, and no
beasts did them any harm, but came close to them trustfully. The little
hare would eat a cabbage-leaf out of their hands, the roe grazed by
their side, the stag leapt merrily by them, and the birds sat still upon
the boughs, and sang whatever they knew.
No mishap overtook them; if they had stayed too late in the forest, and
night came on, they laid themselves down near one another upon the moss,
and slept until morning came, and their mother knew this and did not
worry on their account.
Once when they had spent the night in the wood and the dawn had roused
them, they saw a beautiful child in a shining white dress sitting near
their bed. He got up and looked quite kindly at them, but said nothing
and went into the forest. And when they looked round they found that
they had been sleeping quite close to a precipice, and would certainly
have fallen into it in the darkness if they had gone only a few paces
further. And their mother told them that it must have been the angel who
watches over good children.
Snow-white and Rose-red kept their mother’s little cottage so neat that
it was a pleasure to look inside it. In the summer Rose-red took care
of the house, and every morning laid a wreath of flowers by her mother’s
bed before she awoke, in which was a rose from each tree. In the winter
Snow-white lit the fire and hung the kettle on the hob. The kettle
was of brass and shone like gold, so brightly was it polished. In the
evening, when the snowflakes fell, the mother said: ‘Go, Snow-white, and
bolt the door,’ and then they sat round the hearth, and the mother took
her spectacles and read aloud out of a large book, and the two girls
listened as they sat and spun. And close by them lay a lamb upon the
floor, and behind them upon a perch sat a white dove with its head
hidden beneath its wings.
One evening, as they were thus sitting comfortably together, someone
knocked at the door as if he wished to be let in. The mother said:
‘Quick, Rose-red, open the door, it must be a traveller who is seeking
shelter.’ Rose-red went and pushed back the bolt, thinking that it was a
poor man, but it was not; it was a bear that stretched his broad, black
head within the door.
Rose-red screamed and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered,
and Snow-white hid herself behind her mother’s bed. But the bear began
to speak and said: ‘Do not be afraid, I will do you no harm! I am
half-frozen, and only want to warm myself a little beside you.’
‘Poor bear,’ said the mother, ‘lie down by the fire, only take care that
you do not burn your coat.’ Then she cried: ‘Snow-white, Rose-red, come
out, the bear will do you no harm, he means well.’ So they both came
out, and by-and-by the lamb and dove came nearer, and were not afraid
of him. The bear said: ‘Here, children, knock the snow out of my coat a
little’; so they brought the broom and swept the bear’s hide clean;
and he stretched himself by the fire and growled contentedly and
comfortably. It was not long before they grew quite at home, and played
tricks with their clumsy guest. They tugged his hair with their hands,
put their feet upon his back and rolled him about, or they took a
hazel-switch and beat him, and when he growled they laughed. But the
bear took it all in good part, only when they were too rough he called
out: ‘Leave me alive, children,
Snow-white, Rose-red,
Will you beat your wooer dead?’
When it was bed-time, and the others went to bed, the mother said to the
bear: ‘You can lie there by the hearth, and then you will be safe from
the cold and the bad weather.’ As soon as day dawned the two children
let him out, and he trotted across the snow into the forest.
Henceforth the bear came every evening at the same time, laid himself
down by the hearth, and let the children amuse themselves with him as
much as they liked; and they got so used to him that the doors were
never fastened until their black friend had arrived.
When spring had come and all outside was green, the bear said one
morning to Snow-white: ‘Now I must go away, and cannot come back for the
whole summer.’ ‘Where are you going, then, dear bear?’ asked Snow-white.
‘I must go into the forest and guard my treasures from the wicked
dwarfs. In the winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they are obliged
to stay below and cannot work their way through; but now, when the sun
has thawed and warmed the earth, they break through it, and come out to
pry and steal; and what once gets into their hands, and in their caves,
does not easily see daylight again.’
Snow-white was quite sorry at his departure, and as she unbolted the
door for him, and the bear was hurrying out, he caught against the bolt
and a piece of his hairy coat was torn off, and it seemed to Snow-white
as if she had seen gold shining through it, but she was not sure about
it. The bear ran away quickly, and was soon out of sight behind the
trees.
A short time afterwards the mother sent her children into the forest
to get firewood. There they found a big tree which lay felled on the
ground, and close by the trunk something was jumping backwards and
forwards in the grass, but they could not make out what it was. When
they came nearer they saw a dwarf with an old withered face and a
snow-white beard a yard long. The end of the beard was caught in a
crevice of the tree, and the little fellow was jumping about like a dog
tied to a rope, and did not know what to do.
He glared at the girls with his fiery red eyes and cried: ‘Why do you
stand there? Can you not come here and help me?’ ‘What are you up to,
little man?’ asked Rose-red. ‘You stupid, prying goose!’ answered the
dwarf: ‘I was going to split the tree to get a little wood for cooking.
The little bit of food that we people get is immediately burnt up with
heavy logs; we do not swallow so much as you coarse, greedy folk. I had
just driven the wedge safely in, and everything was going as I wished;
but the cursed wedge was too smooth and suddenly sprang out, and the
tree closed so quickly that I could not pull out my beautiful white
beard; so now it is tight and I cannot get away, and the silly, sleek,
milk-faced things laugh! Ugh! how odious you are!’
The children tried very hard, but they could not pull the beard out, it
was caught too fast. ‘I will run and fetch someone,’ said Rose-red. ‘You
senseless goose!’ snarled the dwarf; ‘why should you fetch someone? You
are already two too many for me; can you not think of something better?’
‘Don’t be impatient,’ said Snow-white, ‘I will help you,’ and she pulled
her scissors out of her pocket, and cut off the end of the beard.
As soon as the dwarf felt himself free he laid hold of a bag which lay
amongst the roots of the tree, and which was full of gold, and lifted it
up, grumbling to himself: ‘Uncouth people, to cut off a piece of my fine
beard. Bad luck to you!’ and then he swung the bag upon his back, and
went off without even once looking at the children.
Some time afterwards Snow-white and Rose-red went to catch a dish
of fish. As they came near the brook they saw something like a large
grasshopper jumping towards the water, as if it were going to leap in.
They ran to it and found it was the dwarf. ‘Where are you going?’ said
Rose-red; ‘you surely don’t want to go into the water?’ ‘I am not such
a fool!’ cried the dwarf; ‘don’t you see that the accursed fish wants
to pull me in?’ The little man had been sitting there fishing, and
unluckily the wind had tangled up his beard with the fishing-line; a
moment later a big fish made a bite and the feeble creature had not
strength to pull it out; the fish kept the upper hand and pulled the
dwarf towards him. He held on to all the reeds and rushes, but it was of
little good, for he was forced to follow the movements of the fish, and
was in urgent danger of being dragged into the water.
The girls came just in time; they held him fast and tried to free his
beard from the line, but all in vain, beard and line were entangled fast
together. There was nothing to do but to bring out the scissors and cut
the beard, whereby a small part of it was lost. When the dwarf saw that
he screamed out: ‘Is that civil, you toadstool, to disfigure a man’s
face? Was it not enough to clip off the end of my beard? Now you have
cut off the best part of it. I cannot let myself be seen by my people.
I wish you had been made to run the soles off your shoes!’ Then he took
out a sack of pearls which lay in the rushes, and without another word
he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone.
It happened that soon afterwards the mother sent the two children to the
town to buy needles and thread, and laces and ribbons. The road led them
across a heath upon which huge pieces of rock lay strewn about. There
they noticed a large bird hovering in the air, flying slowly round and
round above them; it sank lower and lower, and at last settled near a
rock not far away. Immediately they heard a loud, piteous cry. They ran
up and saw with horror that the eagle had seized their old acquaintance
the dwarf, and was going to carry him off.
The children, full of pity, at once took tight hold of the little man,
and pulled against the eagle so long that at last he let his booty go.
As soon as the dwarf had recovered from his first fright he cried
with his shrill voice: ‘Could you not have done it more carefully! You
dragged at my brown coat so that it is all torn and full of holes, you
clumsy creatures!’ Then he took up a sack full of precious stones, and
slipped away again under the rock into his hole. The girls, who by
this time were used to his ingratitude, went on their way and did their
business in town.
As they crossed the heath again on their way home they surprised the
dwarf, who had emptied out his bag of precious stones in a clean spot,
and had not thought that anyone would come there so late. The evening
sun shone upon the brilliant stones; they glittered and sparkled with
all colours so beautifully that the children stood still and stared
at them. ‘Why do you stand gaping there?’ cried the dwarf, and his
ashen-grey face became copper-red with rage. He was still cursing when a
loud growling was heard, and a black bear came trotting towards them out
of the forest. The dwarf sprang up in a fright, but he could not reach
his cave, for the bear was already close. Then in the dread of his heart
he cried: ‘Dear Mr Bear, spare me, I will give you all my treasures;
look, the beautiful jewels lying there! Grant me my life; what do you
want with such a slender little fellow as I? you would not feel me
between your teeth. Come, take these two wicked girls, they are tender
morsels for you, fat as young quails; for mercy’s sake eat them!’ The
bear took no heed of his words, but gave the wicked creature a single
blow with his paw, and he did not move again.
The girls had run away, but the bear called to them: ‘Snow-white and
Rose-red, do not be afraid; wait, I will come with you.’ Then they
recognized his voice and waited, and when he came up to them suddenly
his bearskin fell off, and he stood there a handsome man, clothed all in
gold. ‘I am a king’s son,’ he said, ‘and I was bewitched by that wicked
dwarf, who had stolen my treasures; I have had to run about the forest
as a savage bear until I was freed by his death. Now he has got his
well-deserved punishment.
Snow-white was married to him, and Rose-red to his brother, and they
divided between them the great treasure which the dwarf had gathered
together in his cave. The old mother lived peacefully and happily with
her children for many years. She took the two rose-trees with her, and
they stood before her window, and every year bore the most beautiful
roses, white and red.

*****

The Brothers Grimm, Jacob (1785-1863) and Wilhelm (1786-1859), were born
in Hanau, near Frankfurt, in the German state of Hesse. Throughout
their lives they remained close friends, and both studied law at Marburg
University. Jacob was a pioneer in the study of German philology,
and although Wilhelm’s work was hampered by poor health the brothers
collaborated in the creation of a German dictionary, not completed until
a century after their deaths. But they were best (and universally) known
for the collection of over two hundred folk tales they made from oral
sources and published in two volumes of ‘Nursery and Household Tales’ in
1812 and 1814. Although their intention was to preserve such material as
part of German cultural and literary history, and their collection was
first published with scholarly notes and no illustration, the tales soon
came into the possession of young readers. This was in part due to Edgar
Taylor, who made the first English translation in 1823, selecting about
fifty stories ‘with the amusement of some young friends principally in
view.’ They have been an essential ingredient of children’s reading ever
since.