CHAPTER 1
Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm
THE TWELVE DANCING PRINCESSES
Once upon a time there was a king who had twelve daughters, each one more beautiful than the next. They slept together in a large room with their beds lined up in a row, and at night, after they had gone to bed, the king locked and bolted the door. But when he opened the door in the morning, he saw that their shoes were all worn out from dancing, and nobody could discover how this happened.
The king issued a proclamation that whoever could find out where they went dancing at night could choose one of them for his wife and succeed him as king; but anyone who volunteered and could not find out after three days and nights was to forfeit his life. It wasn't long until a king's son offered to take the risk. He was received with hospitality, and at night he was taken to a room that opened on the bedroom. His bed was made there, and he was supposed to see where they went dancing. And in order to keep them from playing any secret tricks or going out by some other way, the door to the bedroom was left open. But the eyes of the king's son suddenly felt like lead and he fell asleep, and when he woke up the next morning, all twelve had been to the dance, for there were their shoes with the soles worn right through. The second and third nights were just the same, and so his head was chopped off without pity. Many others followed him and offered to undertake the dangerous enterprise, but they all lost their lives.
Now it happened that a poor soldier, who had been wounded and was no longer fit for service, was on his way to the city where the king lived. He met an old woman who asked him where he was going. "I'm not very sure myself," he said, and he added jokingly, "I'd really like to find out where the king's daughters wear out their shoes dancing, and then get to be king."
"That's not so hard," said the old woman. "You mustn't drink the wine they bring you before you go to bed, and you must pretend that you're fast asleep." With that, she gave him a little cloak and said, "If you put that around your shoulders, you'll be invisible and then you can steal after the twelve princesses."
Having been so well advised, the soldier took the matter in good earnest, and so he screwed up his courage, went before the king, and volunteered to be a suitor. He was received with the same hospitality as the others, and they gave him royal garments to wear.
At bedtime he was led to the anteroom, and when he got ready for bed, the oldest daughter brought him a goblet of wine. But he had tied a sponge under his chin and let the wine run into it so that he didn't drink a drop. Then he lay down, and after lying there a little while, he started snoring as if he were fast asleep.
The twelve princesses heard him and laughed. "That one shouldn't have risked his life, either," said the oldest. Then they got up, opened wardrobes, chests, and boxes, and took out magnificent clothes. They primped in front of the mirrors, frolicked around the room, and joyfully looked forward to the dance—except for the youngest. She said, "I don't know, you can be gay if you like, but I have such a strange feeling—I'm sure something terrible is going to happen to us."
"You're a little goose," said the oldest; "you're always afraid. Have you forgotten how many kings' sons have already been here and failed? As for the soldier, I wouldn't have even had to give him the sleeping potion—nothing would have wakened that lout."
When they were all ready, they first had a look at the soldier, but he had his eyes closed and didn't move a muscle, so they thought they were completely safe. The oldest one went to her bed and rapped on it. Immediately it sank through the floor and they climbed through the opening, one after the other, with the oldest in the lead.
The soldier, who had watched everything, lost no time, put on his little cloak, and climbed down after the youngest. Halfway down the stairs he stepped lightly on her gown. She was frightened and called out, "What is it? Who is holding onto my gown?"
"Don't be such a simpleton," said the oldest; "you caught it on a nail."
Then they went all the way down, and when they got to the bottom, they were standing in a magnificent avenue of trees: all the leaves were of silver, and they shimmered and shone. The soldier thought, "You'd better take along some token as proof," and he broke off a branch. The tree gave a prodigious crack.
The youngest cried out again, "Something's the matter —did you hear that cracking?"
But the oldest said, "They're firing a victory salute because soon we shall have redeemed our princes."
Next they came to an avenue of trees with leaves of gold, and finally to a third where the leaves were of bright diamond. Each time he broke a branch, and each time there was a cracking that made the youngest start with alarm. But the oldest insisted they were victory salutes.
They went on and came to a big river. Twelve little boats were floating on the water, and in each boat sat a handsome prince. They had been waiting for the twelve princesses, and each took one in his boat. The soldier, however, went and sat by the youngest.
"I don't know what's wrong," said the prince; "the boat is much heavier tonight, and I've got to row with all my strength to move it along."
"It must be the hot weather," said the youngest. "I'm very warm myself."
On the other side of the river stood a beautiful castle brightly illuminated, from which the gay music of drums and trumpets was sounding. They rowed across and went inside, and each prince danced with his own sweetheart.
The soldier danced along invisibly, and each time a princess took a goblet of wine in her hand, he drank it so that it was empty when she raised it to her lips. The youngest was frightened at this, too, but the oldest always managed to silence her.
They danced until three o'clock the next morning, when all the shoes were worn out and they had to stop. The princes rowed them back across the river, and this time the soldier sat up front with the oldest. On the shore they said good-bye to the princes and promised to come again the next night. But when they reached the stairs, the soldier ran ahead and lay down on his bed, and when the twelve came up wearily dragging their feet, he was already snoring again loud enough for them to hear. "We don't have to worry about him," they said. They took off their beautiful clothes, put them away, placed the worn-out shoes under the beds, and lay down.
The next morning the soldier didn't want to tell right away because he wished to see a little more of these wonderful goings-on, and he went along for the second and third nights too. Everything was just the same as the first time, and each night they danced until their shoes fell apart. The third time he took away a goblet for proof.
When the hour had come for him to give his answer, he concealed the three branches and the goblet on his person and went before the king. The twelve princesses were listening behind the door to see what he would say.
When the king asked,, "Where did mjf twelve daughters wear out their shoes dancing in the night?" he answered, "With twelve princes in an underground castle." And he told everything that happened and produced his evidence.
The king had his daughters summoned and asked them if the soldier had told the truth, and since they saw that their secret was out and that lying would do no good, they had to confess everything.
Next the king asked the soldier which one he wanted to marry. "I'm no longer a young man," he answered, "so give me the oldest."
The wedding was celebrated the same day, and he was promised the kingdom after the king's death. But the enchantment of the princes was extended one day for each night they had danced with the princesses.
THE GOOSEGIRL
Once upon a time there lived an old queen whose husband had died many years ago, and she had a beautiful daughter. When she grew up, she was promised in marriage to a king's son far away. Now when the time came for her to be married and the child had to begin her journey to the foreign kingdom, the old queen packed up a great many costly dishes and jewels, gold and silver, goblets and trinkets—everything, in short, that belongs in a royal dowry—for she loved the child with all her heart. She also gave her a maid-in-waiting, who was supposed to ride along with her and to give the bride into the hands of the groom. Each one got a horse for the journey, but the princess' horse was called Falada, and it could talk.
When the hour of parting had come, the old mother went to her bedroom, took a little knife, and cut her fingers to make them bleed. She held a scrap of white cloth up to them and let three drops of blood trickle on it, gave them to her daughter, and said, "Dear child, take good care of them. You will have need of them on your way."
And so they sadly said good-bye to each other. The princess tucked the scrap of cloth into her bosom and got up on her horse, and then she set off to meet her bridegroom.
After they had ridden along for an hour, she became terribly thirsty and said to her maid, "Get down and fill the cup you've brought for me with water from the brook. I would like a drink."
"If you're thirsty," said the maid, "get down yourself and lie down by the water and drink. I don't want to wait on you."
The princess got off her horse because she was so very thirsty, stooped down to the water in the brook, and drank. She wasn't permitted to drink out of the gold cup. She said, "Dear heaven!" and the three drops of blood answered, "If your mother knew this, it would break her heart."
But the bride of the prince was meek. She said nothing and got back on her horse. Thus they rode a few miles further, but it was a warm day, the sun burned down, and soon she was thirsty again. When they came to a stream, she called again to her maid, "Get down and fetch me a drink in my gold cup." For she had long since forgotten all of the unkind words.
But the maid said even more proudly, "If you want to drink, help yourself. I don't want to wait on you."
Then the princess got down because she was so thirsty, and she leaned out over the flowing stream. She wept and said, "Dear heaven!" and again the drops of blood answered, "If your mother knew this, it would break her heart." And as she was drinking and leaning out over the bank as far as she could, the little scrap of cloth with the three drops fell out of her bosom and was carried away by the water, and she was too frightened to notice. But the maid noticed and was glad to get the bride in her power, for by losing the drops of blood she had become weak and helpless.
When she wanted to get back on her horse, Falada, the maid said, "I belong on Falada, and you belong on my nag." And she had to put up with it. Then the maid harshly commanded her to take off her royal garments and to put on her mean ones instead, and last of all she had to swear before the face of heaven that she would tell no one at court about it. And if she had refused to swear this oath, she would have been murdered on the spot. But Falada saw all that went on and paid close attention.
Now the maid mounted on Falada and the true bride got on the common nag, and so they went on until finally they arrived at the royal castle. There was great joy at their coming, and the prince ran to meet them. He lifted the maid down from the horse and thought that she was his bride. She was escorted up the steps, but the true princess had to remain standing below.
The old king looked out of the window and saw her waiting in the courtyard and noticed that she was well bred, gentle, and very beautiful. He went straightaway to the royal apartment and asked the bride about the girl she had brought with her who was standing down there in the courtyard—who might she be?
"She's someone I picked up along the way for company. Give the girl some work so that she won't stand there idle."
But the old king had no work for her and wasn't able to think of anything better than to say, "I've got a small boy who looks after the geese. She can help him."
The boy was called Curdy, and he was the one the true bride had to help tend geese.
Soon thereafter the false bride said to the young prince, "Dearest husband, let me beg you to do me a favor."
He replied, "I'll do it gladly."
"Well then, have the knacker summoned to cut off the head of the horse on which I rode here because it made me angry on the journey." But the real reason was that she was afraid the horse might tell what she had done to the princess.
Thus it happened, and when the time had come for the faithful Falada to die, the real princess also heard about it, and she secretly promised the knacker a piece of money in return for a small favor. There was a large, dark gateway in the town through which she had to pass with the geese every morning and every evening. Would he please nail Falada's head up under the dark gateway so that she could see him again more than once? The knacker promised to do it, struck off the head, and nailed it up under the dark gateway.
Early in the morning, when she and Curdy were driving the geese out through the gateway, she said as she passed:
"O Falada, there you hang high."
And the head answered:
"O young princess, there you go by.
If your mother knew this,
Her heart would break."
Then she went still further out of town, and they drove the geese into the fields. When they came to the pasture, she sat down and loosened her hair, which was pure gold. Curdy saw it and was delighted at the way it gleamed, and he wanted to pull out a few hairs. Then she said:
"Blow, wind, blow,
Make Curdy go
Chasing after his cap
Till I've done up my hair
And braided it fair."
And such a strong wind started up that it blew Curdy's cap all over the countryside, and he had to run after it. By the time he got back, she was all finished combing her hair and putting it back up, and he couldn't get any of it. That made Curdy angry, and he refused to speak to her. And so they tended the geese until evening. Then they went home.
The next morning, as they were driving the geese through the dark gateway, the girl said:
"O Falada, there you hang high."
Falada answered:
"O young princess, there you go by.
If your mother knew this,
It would break her heart."
Out in the fields she sat down in the grass again and started to comb out her hair, and Curdy came running up to grab at it. But she said quickly:
"Blow, wind, blow,
Make Curdy go
Chasing after his cap
Till I've done up my hair
And braided it fair."
Then the wind blew, and blew the cap right off his head, far away so that Curdy had to run after it. And when he came back, she had long since finished putting her hair up, and he couldn't get hold of a single lock. And so they tended geese until evening.
But that night, after they got home, Curdy went to the old king and said, "I don't want to tend geese with that girl any more."
"Why not?" asked the king.
"Oh, she makes me angry all day long."
The old king ordered him to tell what he found to be the matter with her.
Curdy said, "Every morning when we pass under the dark gateway, there's a horse's head on the wall, and she says to it:
'Falada, there you hang high.'
And the head answers:
'O young princess, there you go by.
If your mother knew this,
It would break her heart.'"
And so Curdy told the rest, what happened in the pasture and how he had to run after his cap.
The old king ordered him to drive the geese out again the next day, and in the morning he himself hid behind the dark gate and overheard her talking with Falada's head. And he also followed her into the fields and hid himself behind a bush in the meadow. Soon he saw for himself where the goosegirl and the gooseboy came driving the flock and how, after a while, she sat down and unbraided her hair—it shone forth with a radiant brightness. Right away she repeated:
"Blow, wind, blow,
Make Curdy go
Chasing after his cap
Till I've done up my hair
And braided it fair."
A gust of wind came and carried off Curdy's cap so that he had to run far away, and the girl calmly went on combing and braiding her locks while the old king observed everything.
He went away unnoticed, and when the goosegirl returned home that night, he called her aside and asked her why she did all of these things.
"I cannot tell you, nor can I tell my sorrow to a soul, for that is what I swore before the face of heaven on pain of losing my life."
He urged her and gave her no peace, but he could get nothing out of her. Finally he said, "If you can't confide in me, tell your sorrow to that iron stove," and he went away.
