Saturday's Good Reading: “Puss in Boots” by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (translated into English by D. L. Ashliman).

 

A miller had three sons, his mill, a donkey, and a cat. The sons worked the mill, the donkey fetched the grain and carried away the flour, and the cat caught mice.

When the miller died the three sons divided the inheritance: The oldest received the mill, the second the donkey, and the third the cat, for nothing else was left for him.

Sadly he said to himself, "I got the worst of everything. My oldest brother can grind grain, my second one can ride his donkey, but what can I do with the cat? If I have a pair of fur gloves made from his pelt, then there'll be nothing left."

"Listen," said the cat, who had understood everything that he had said. "Don't kill me just to get a pair of inferior gloves from my pelt. Instead, have a pair of boots made for me so that I can go out and been seen by the people. Then I can come to your aid."

The miller's son was amazed that the cat could thusly speak. Now the cobbler was just passing by, so he called him in and had him measure the cat for a pair of boots. When they were finished the cat pulled them on, took a sack with a some grain in the bottom and a string with which it could be tied shut, threw it over his shoulder, and walked out the door on two legs, just like a human.

The ruler in the land at that time was a king who loved partridges. However, none were to be had. The woods were full of them, but they were so wary that no hunter could get to them. The cat knew this, and worked out a solution. Arriving in the woods he opened the sack, spread out the grain inside it, then laid the string in the grass, leading it behind a thicket. Then he hid himself, crept into the thicket and watched.

The partridges soon came by, found the grain, and one after the other hopped into the sack. When a good number were inside, the cat pulled the string shut, ran up and wrung the partridges' necks, then threw the sack over his shoulder and went straightaway to the king's palace.

The guard shouted, "Stop! Where to?"

"To the king," answered the cat.

"Are you crazy? A cat going to the king?"

"Just let him go," said another guard. "The king is often bored. Perhaps the cat can entertain him with his tricks."

The cat approached the king, bowed politely, and said, "My master, Count (and here he said a long and very distinguished name) extends his greetings to his majesty the king and sends him these partridges which he captured with snares."

The king was amazed to see such fine, fat partridges and hardly knew how to contain his joy. He ordered the cat to take as much gold from the treasury as he could carry in his sack, then said, "Take it to you master and thank him many times for his gift."

The poor miller's son was at home sitting at the window with his head in his hands. He had given everything he had for the cat's boots, and now he wondered what he might get in return.

Just then the cat stepped inside, threw the sack from his back, untied the string, and spread the gold out in front of the miller.

"Here is something for the boots. The king sends you his greetings and his thanks."

The miller was delighted with the wealth, although he could not understand where it had come from.

While taking off his boots, the cat explained everything to him, then added, "You now have plenty of money, but that's not enough. Tomorrow I'll pull my boots on again, and you shall become even more wealthy. I told the king that you are a count."

The next day, just as he said he would, the cat, appropriately booted, went hunting again and took the captured game to the king. Thus it continued every day, and every day the cat returned home with more gold. He was now so favored by the king that he was allowed to come and go as he pleased and to prowl around the palace wherever he wanted to.

One time the cat was warming himself by the fire in the king's birchen when the coachman came in cursing, "To the devil with the king and the princess! I wanted to go to the tavern for a drink and some card playing, but now I have to drive them to the lake."

After hearing this, the cat sneaked home and said to his master, "If you want to become a wealthy count, come with me to the lake and go bathing there."

The miller did not know what he should say to this, but he obeyed the cat, went with him to the lake, took off all his clothes, and jumped into the water. The cat picked up the clothes, carried them away, and hid them. He had scarcely done so when the king came riding by.

The cat cried out pitifully, "Oh, your majesty! My master was bathing here in the lake when a thief came and stole his clothes that were lying here on the shore. Now the count cannot come out of the water. If he stays there any longer he will catch a cold and die."

Hearing this, the king came to a stop and sent one of his people back to fetch some of the king's clothes. The count then put on these splendid clothes. Because the king already favored him because of the partridges, he invited him into the royal carriage and spoke to him in familiar terms. The princess had nothing against this, for the count was young and good looking, and she quite liked him.

Now the cat had run on ahead and had arrived at a great meadow where more than a hundred people were making hay.

"Whose meadow is this?" asked the cat.

"It belongs to the great sorcerer."

"Listen, the king will soon come this way, and when he asks whose meadow this is, you must answer, 'It belongs to the count.' If you do not do this, you'll all be killed."

With that the cat went on further, coming to a field of grain so large that no one could see its end. More than two hundred people were there cutting the grain.

"Who owns this grain, you people?"

"The sorcerer."

"Listen, the king will soon come this way, and when he asks whose grain this is, you must answer, 'It belongs to the count.' If you do not do this, you'll all be killed."

Finally the cat came to a magnificent forest. More than three hundred people were there felling the great oak trees and making lumber.

"Who owns this forest, you people?"

"The sorcerer."

"Listen, the king will soon come this way, and when he asks whose forest this is, you must answer, 'It belongs to the count.' If you do not do this, you'll all be killed."

The cat continued on further. Everyone stared at him because he looked so unusual, walking along in boots like a human. And they were afraid of him.

Soon he arrived at the sorcerer's place. He stepped boldly inside and walked up to the sorcerer, who looked at him scornfully.

"What do you want?"

The cat bowed politely and said, "I have heard that you can transform yourself any way that you please. I can well believe that you could transform yourself into an animal such as a dog, a fox, or even a wolf, but it seems to me that to transform yourself into an elephant would be quite impossible. I have come to see if you can do so."

The sorcerer said proudly, "That's nothing for me," and he instantly transformed himself into an elephant.

The cat pretended to be frightened and said, "That is unbelievable and unheard of. I would never have dreamed that you could do this. But even more difficult would be to transform yourself into a small animal, such as a mouse. You are certainly more powerful than any other sorcerer in the world, but that would be too much for you."

The sweet talk turned the sorcerer very friendly, and he said, "Oh yes, my dear little cat, I can do that too," then suddenly he was jumping around in the room as a mouse. The cat ran after him, caught him with one leap, and ate him up.

Meanwhile, the king had ridden along further with the count and the princess, coming to the great meadow.

"Who owns this hay?" he asked.

"The count," they all shouted. "You have a beautiful piece of land here, Lord Count," just as the cat had order them to do.

Then they came to the great field of grain.

"Who owns this grain, you people?"

"The Lord Count. Yes, Lord Count, you have a wonderful farm here!"

Then they came to the forest.

"Who owns this forest, you people?"

"The Lord Count."

The king was all the more amazed, and said, "Lord Count, you must be a very wealthy man. I do not believe that I myself have such a magnificent forest."

Finally they arrived at the palace. The cat was standing on the steps, and when the carriage came to a stop he jumped down, opened the door, and said, "Your majesty, you have arrived at the palace of my master, the count, and this honor will make him happy as long as he lives."

The king climbed out of the carriage and marveled at the magnificent building. It was almost larger and more beautiful than his own castle. The count then led the princess up the stairway and into the main hall, that shimmered with gold and precious stones.

Then the princess and the count were married, and when the king died the count became king with cat-in-boots as his prime minister.

Saturday's Good Reading: “Foundling-Bird” by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (translated into English by Margaret Hunt.)

There was once a forester who went into the forest to hunt, and as he entered it he heard a sound of screaming as if a little child were there. He followed the sound, and at last came to a high tree, and at the top of this a little child was sitting, for the mother had fallen asleep under the tree with the child, and a bird of prey had seen it in her arms, had flown down, snatched it away, and set it on the high tree.

The forester climbed up, brought the child down, and thought to himself, "Thou wilt take him home with thee, and bring him up with thy Lina." He took it home, therefore, and the two children grew up together. The one, however, which he had found on a tree was called Fundevogel, because a bird had carried it away. Fundevogel and Lina loved each other so dearly that when they did not see each other they were sad.

The forester, however, had an old cook, who one evening took two pails and began to fetch water, and did not go once only, but many times, out to the spring. Lina saw this and said, "Hark you, old Sanna, why are you fetching so much water?" "If thou wilt never repeat it to anyone, I will tell thee why." So Lina said, no, she would never repeat it to anyone, and then the cook said, "Early to-morrow morning, when the forester is out hunting, I will heat the water, and when it is boiling in the kettle, I will throw in Fundevogel, and will boil him in it."

Betimes next morning the forester got up and went out hunting, and when he was gone the children were still in bed. Then Lina said to Fundevogel, "If thou wilt never leave me, I too will never leave thee." Fundevogel said, "Neither now, nor ever will I leave thee." Then said Lina, "Then I will tell thee. Last night, old Sanna carried so many buckets of water into the house that I asked her why she was doing that, and she said that if I would promise not to tell any one she would tell me, and I said I would be sure not to tell any one, and she said that early to-morrow morning when father was out hunting, she would set the kettle full of water, throw thee into it and boil thee; but we will get up quickly, dress ourselves, and go away together."

The two children therefore got up, dressed themselves quickly, and went away. When the water in the kettle was boiling, the cook went into the bed-room to fetch Fundevogel and throw him into it. But when she came in, and went to the beds, both the children were gone. Then she was terribly alarmed, and she said to herself, "What shall I say now when the forester comes home and sees that the children are gone? They must be followed instantly to get them back again."

Then the cook sent three servants after them, who were to run and overtake the children. The children, however, were sitting outside the forest, and when they saw from afar the three servants running, Lina said to Fundevogel, "Never leave me, and I will never leave thee." Fundevogel said, "Neither now, nor ever." Then said Lina, "Do thou become a rose-tree, and I the rose upon it." When the three servants came to the forest, nothing was there but a rose-tree and one rose on it, but the children were nowhere. Then said they, "There is nothing to be done here," and they went home and told the cook that they had seen nothing in the forest but a little rose-bush with one rose on it. Then the old cook scolded and said, "You simpletons, you should have cut the rose-bush in two, and have broken off the rose and brought it home with you; go, and do it once." They had therefore to go out and look for the second time. The children, however, saw them coming from a distance. Then Lina said, "Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will never leave thee." Fundevogel said, "Neither now, nor ever." Said Lina, "Then do thou become a church, and I'll be the chandelier in it." So when the three servants came, nothing was there but a church, with a chandelier in it. They said therefore to each other, "What can we do here, let us go home." When they got home, the cook asked if they had not found them; so they said no, they had found nothing but a church, and that there was a chandelier in it. And the cook scolded them and said, "You fools! why did you not pull the church to pieces, and bring the chandelier home with you?" And now the old cook herself got on her legs, and went with the three servants in pursuit of the children. The children, however, saw from afar that the three servants were coming, and the cook waddling after them. Then said Lina, "Fundevogel, never leave me, and I will never leave thee." Then said Fundevogel, "Neither now, nor ever." Said Lina, "Be a fishpond, and I will be the duck upon it." The cook, however, came up to them, and when she saw the pond she lay down by it, and was about to drink it up. But the duck swam quickly to her, seized her head in its beak and drew her into the water, and there the old witch had to drown. Then the children went home together, and were heartily delighted, and if they are not dead, they are living still.

Saturday's Good Reading: “Ashenputtel” by the Brothers Grimm (translated into English by Alice Lucas)

 

The wife of a rich man fell ill, and when she felt that she was nearing her end, she called her only daughter to her bedside, and said:

‘Dear child, continue devout and good, then God will always help you, and I will look down upon you from heaven, and watch over you.’

Thereupon she closed her eyes, and breathed her last.

The maiden went to her mother’s grave every day and wept, and she continued to be devout and good. When the winter came, the snow spread a white covering on the grave, and when the sun of spring had unveiled it again, the husband took another wife. The new wife brought home with her two daughters, who were fair and beautiful to look upon, but base and black at heart.

Then began a sad time for the unfortunate step-child.

‘Is this stupid goose to sit with us in the parlour?’ they said.

‘Whoever wants to eat bread must earn it; go and sit with the kitchenmaid.’

They took away her pretty clothes, and made her put on an old grey frock, and gave her wooden clogs.

‘Just look at the proud Princess, how well she’s dressed,’ they laughed, as they led her to the kitchen. There, the girl was obliged to do hard work from morning till night, to get up at daybreak, carry water, light the fire, cook, and wash. Not content with that, the sisters inflicted on her every vexation they could think of; they made fun of her, and tossed the peas and lentils among the ashes, so that she had to sit down and pick them out again. In the evening, when she was worn out with work, she had no bed to go to, but had to lie on the hearth among the cinders. And because, on account of that, she always looked dusty and dirty, they called her Ashenputtel.

It happened one day that the Father had a mind to go to the Fair. So he asked both his step-daughters what he should bring home for them.

‘Fine clothes,’ said one.

‘Pearls and jewels,’ said the other.

‘But you, Ashenputtel?’ said he, ‘what will you have?’

‘Father, break off for me the first twig which brushes against your hat on your way home.’

Well, for his two step-daughters he brought beautiful clothes, pearls and jewels, and on his way home, as he was riding through a green copse, a hazel twig grazed against him and knocked his hat off. Then he broke off the branch and took it with him.

When he got home he gave his step-daughters what they had asked for, and to Ashenputtel he gave the twig from the hazel bush.

Ashenputtel thanked him, and went to her mother’s grave and planted the twig upon it; she wept so much that her tears fell and watered it. And it took root and became a fine tree.

Ashenputtel went to the grave three times every day, wept and prayed, and every time a little white bird came and perched upon the tree, and when she uttered a wish, the little bird threw down to her what she had wished for.

Now it happened that the King proclaimed a festival, which was to last three days, and to which all the beautiful maidens in the country were invited, in order that his son might choose a bride.

When the two step-daughters heard that they were also to be present, they were in high spirits, called Ashenputtel, and said: ‘Brush our hair and clean our shoes, and fasten our buckles, for we are going to the feast at the King’s palace.’

Ashenputtel obeyed, but wept, for she also would gladly have gone to the ball with them, and begged her step-mother to give her leave to go.

‘You, Ashenputtel!’ she said. ‘Why, you are covered with dust and dirt. You go to the festival! Besides you have no clothes or shoes, and yet you want to go to the ball.’

As she, however, went on asking, her Step-mother said:

‘Well, I have thrown a dishful of lentils into the cinders, if you have picked them all out in two hours you shall go with us.’

The girl went through the back door into the garden, and cried, ‘Ye gentle doves, ye turtle doves, and all ye little birds under heaven, come and help me,

 

‘The good into a dish to throw,

The bad into your crops can go.’

 

Then two white doves came in by the kitchen window, and were followed by the turtle doves, and finally all the little birds under heaven flocked in, chirping, and settled down among the ashes. And the doves gave a nod with their little heads, peck, peck, peck; and then the rest began also, peck, peck, peck, and collected all the good beans into the dish. Scarcely had an hour passed before they had finished, and all flown out again.

Then the girl brought the dish to her Step-mother, and was delighted to think that now she would be able to go to the feast with them.

But she said, ‘No, Ashenputtel, you have no clothes, and cannot dance; you will only be laughed at.’

But when she began to cry, the Step-mother said:

‘If you can pick out two whole dishes of lentils from the ashes in an hour, you shall go with us.’

And she thought, ‘She will never be able to do that.’

When her Step-mother had thrown the dishes of lentils

Ashenputtel goes to the ball

among the ashes, the girl went out through the back door, and cried, ‘Ye gentle doves, ye turtle doves, and all ye little birds under heaven, come and help me,

 

‘The good into a dish to throw,

The bad into your crops can go.’

 

Then two white doves came in by the kitchen window, and were followed by the turtle doves, and all the other little birds under heaven, and in less than an hour the whole had been picked up, and they had all flown away.

Then the girl carried the dish to her Step-mother, and was delighted to think that she would now be able to go to the ball.

But she said, ‘It’s not a bit of good. You can’t go with us, for you’ve got no clothes, and you can’t dance. We should be quite ashamed of you.’

Thereupon she turned her back upon her, and hurried off with her two proud daughters.

As soon as every one had left the house, Ashenputtel went out to her mother’s grave under the hazel-tree, and cried:

 

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,

Gold and silver shower on me.’

 

Then the bird threw down to her a gold and silver robe, and a pair of slippers embroidered with silk and silver. With all speed she put on the robe and went to the feast. But her step-sisters and their mother did not recognise her, and supposed that she was some foreign Princess, so beautiful did she appear in her golden dress. They never gave a thought to Ashenputtel, but imagined that she was sitting at home in the dirt picking the lentils out of the cinders.

The Prince came up to the stranger, took her by the hand, and danced with her. In fact, he would not dance with any one else, and never left go of her hand. If any one came up to ask her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’

She danced until nightfall, and then wanted to go home; but the Prince said, ‘I will go with you and escort you.’

For he wanted to see to whom the beautiful maiden belonged. But she slipped out of his way and sprang into the pigeon-house.

Then the Prince waited till her Father came, and told him that the unknown maiden had vanished into the pigeon-house.

The old man thought, ‘Could it be Ashenputtel?’ And he had an axe brought to him, so that he might break down the pigeon-house, but there was no one inside.

When they went home, there lay Ashenputtel in her dirty clothes among the cinders, and a dismal oil lamp was burning in the chimney corner. For Ashenputtel had quietly jumped down out of the pigeon-house and ran back to the hazel-tree. There she had taken off her beautiful clothes and laid them on the grave, and the bird had taken them away again. Then she had settled herself among the ashes on the hearth in her old grey frock.

On the second day, when the festival was renewed, and her parents and step-sisters had started forth again, Ashenputtel went to the hazel-tree, and said:

 

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,

Gold and silver shower on me.’

 

Then the bird threw down a still more gorgeous robe than on the previous day. And when she appeared at the festival in this robe, every one was astounded by her beauty.

The King’s son had waited till she came, and at once took her hand, and she danced with no one but him. When others came forward and invited her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’

At nightfall she wished to leave; but the Prince went after her, hoping to see into what house she went, but she sprang out into the garden behind the house. There stood a fine big tree on which the most delicious pears hung. She climbed up among the branches as nimbly as a squirrel, and the Prince could not make out what had become of her.

But he waited till her Father came, and then said to him, ‘The unknown maiden has slipped away from me, and I think that she has jumped into the pear-tree.’

The Father thought, ‘Can it be Ashenputtel?’ And he had the axe brought to cut down the tree, but there was no one on it. When they went home and looked into the kitchen, there lay Ashenputtel among the cinders as usual; for she had jumped down on the other side of the tree, taken back the beautiful clothes to the bird on the hazel-tree, and put on her old grey frock.

On the third day, when her parents and sisters had started, Ashenputtel went again to her mother’s grave, and said:

 

‘Shiver and shake, dear little tree,

Gold and silver shower on me.’

 

Then the bird threw down a dress which was so magnificent that no one had ever seen the like before, and the slippers were entirely of gold. When she appeared at the festival in this attire, they were all speechless with astonishment. The Prince danced only with her, and if any one else asked her to dance, he said, ‘This is my partner.’

When night fell and she wanted to leave, the Prince was more desirous than ever to accompany her, but she darted away from him so quickly that he could not keep up with her. But the Prince had used a stratagem, and had caused the steps to be covered with cobbler’s wax. The consequence was, that as the maiden sprang down them, her left slipper remained sticking there. The Prince took it up. It was small and dainty, and entirely made of gold.

The next morning he went with it to Ashenputtel’s Father, and said to him, ‘No other shall become my wife but she whose foot this golden slipper fits.’

The two sisters were delighted at that, for they both had beautiful feet. The eldest went into the room intending to try on the slipper, and her Mother stood beside her. But her great toe prevented her getting it on, her foot was too long.

Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, ‘Cut off the toe; when you are Queen you won’t have to walk any more.’

The girl cut off her toe, forced her foot into the slipper, stifled her pain, and went out to the Prince. Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode away with her.

However, they had to pass the grave on the way, and there sat the two Doves on the hazel-tree, and cried:

 

‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,

There’s blood on the track,

The shoe is too small,

At home the true

Bride is waiting thy call.’

 

Then he looked at her foot and saw how the blood was streaming from it. So he turned his horse round and carried the false Bride back to her home, and said that she was not the right one; the second sister must try the shoe.

Then she went into the room, and succeeded in getting her toes into the shoe, but her heel was too big.

Then her Mother handed her a knife, and said, ‘Cut a bit off your heel; when you are Queen you won’t have to walk any more.’

The maiden cut a bit off her heel, forced her foot into the shoe, stifled her pain, and went out to the Prince.

Then he took her up on his horse as his Bride, and rode off with her.

As they passed the grave, the two Doves were sitting on the hazel-tree, and crying:

 

Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,

There’s blood on the track,

The shoe is too small,

At home the true

Bride is waiting thy call.’

 

He looked down at her foot and saw that it was streaming with blood, and there were deep red spots on her stockings. Then he turned his horse and brought the false Bride back to her home.

‘This is not the right one either,’ he said. ‘Have you no other daughter?’

‘No,’ said the man. ‘There is only a daughter of my late wife’s, a puny, stunted drudge, but she cannot possibly be the Bride.’

The Prince said that she must be sent for.

But the Mother answered, ‘Oh no, she is much too dirty; she mustn’t be seen on any account.’

He was, however, absolutely determined to have his way, and they were obliged to summon Ashenputtel.

When she had washed her hands and face, she went up and curtsied to the Prince, who handed her the golden slipper.

Then she sat down on a bench, pulled off her wooden clog and put on the slipper, which fitted to a nicety.

And when she stood up and the Prince looked into her face, he recognised the beautiful maiden that he had danced with, and cried: ‘This is the true Bride!’

The Stepmother and the two sisters were dismayed and turned white with rage; but he took Ashenputtel on his horse and rode off with her.

As they rode past the hazel-tree the two White Doves cried:

 

‘Prithee, look back, prithee, look back,

No blood’s on the track,

The shoe’s not too small,

You carry the true

Bride home to your hall.’

 

And when they had said this they both came flying down, and settled on Ashenputtel’s shoulders, one on the right, and one on the left, and remained perched there.

When the wedding was going to take place, the two false sisters came and wanted to curry favour with her, and take part in her good fortune. As the bridal party was going to the church, the eldest was on the right side, the youngest on the left, and the Doves picked out one of the eyes of each of them.

Afterwards, when they were coming out of the church, the elder was on the left, the younger on the right, and the Doves picked out the other eye of each of them. And so for their wickedness and falseness they were punished with blindness for the rest of their days.

 

Saturday's Good Reading: "Rapunzel" by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm (translated into English by D.L. Ashiiman)

First edition, 1812

Once upon a time there was a man and a woman who had long wished for a child but had never received one.

Finally, however, the woman came to be with child.

Through the small rear window of these people's house they could see into a fairy's garden that was filled with flowers and herbs of all kinds.

No one dared enter this garden.

One day the woman was standing at this window, and she saw the most beautiful rapunzel in a bed.

She longed for some, but not knowing how to get any, she became miserably ill.

Her husband was frightened, and asked her why she was doing so poorly.

"Oh, if I do not get some rapunzel from the garden behind our house, I shall surely die," she said.

The man, who loved her dearly, decided to get her some, whatever the cost.

One evening he climbed over the high wall, hastily dug up a handful of rapunzel, and took it to his wife.

She immediately made a salad from it, which she devoured greedily.

It tasted so very good to her that by the next day her desire for more had grown threefold.

The man saw that there would be no peace, so once again he climbed into the garden.

To his horror, the fairy was standing there.

She scolded him fiercely for daring to enter and steal from her garden.

He excused himself as best he could with his wife's pregnancy, and how it would be dangerous to deny her anything.

Finally the fairy spoke, "I will accept your excuse and even allow you to take as much rapunzel as you want, if you will give me the child that your wife is now carrying."

In his fear the man agreed to everything.

When the woman gave birth, the fairy appeared, named the little girl Rapunzel, and took her away.

This Rapunzel became the most beautiful child under the sun, but when she was twelve years old, the fairy locked her in a high tower that had neither a door nor a stairway, but only a tiny little window at the very top.

When the fairy wanted to enter, she stood below and called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

    Let down your hair to me.

 

Rapunzel had splendid hair, as fine as spun gold.

When the fairy called out, she untied it, wound it around a window hook, let it fall twenty yards to the ground, and the fairy climbed up it.

One day a young prince came through the forest where the tower stood.

He saw the beautiful Rapunzel standing at her window, heard her sing with her sweet voice, and fell in love with her.

Because there was no door in the tower and no ladder was tall enough to reach her, he fell into despair.

He came to the forest every day, until once he saw the fairy, who said:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

    Let down your hair.

 

Then Rapunzel let down her strands of hair, and the sorceress climbed up them to her.

"If that is the ladder into the tower, then sometime I will try my luck."

He remembered the words that he would have to speak, and the next day, as soon as it was dark, he went to the tower and called upward:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

    Let down your hair!

 

She let her hair fall. He tied himself to it and was pulled up.

At first Rapunzel was frightened, but soon she came to like the young king so well that she arranged for him to come every day and be pulled up. Thus they lived in joy and pleasure for a long time.

The fairy did not discover what was happening until one day Rapunzel said to her, "Frau Gothel, tell me why it is that my clothes are all too tight. They no longer fit me."

"You godless child," said the fairy. "What am I hearing from you?" She immediately saw how she had been deceived and was terribly angry.

She took Rapunzel's beautiful hair, wrapped it a few times around her left hand, grasped a pair of scissors with her right hand, and snip snip, cut it off.

Then she sent Rapunzel into a wilderness where she suffered greatly and where, after a time, she gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl.

On the evening of the same day that she sent Rapunzel away, the fairy tied the cut-off hair to the hook at the top of the tower, and when the prince called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

    Let down your hair!

 

she let down the hair.

The prince was startled to find the fairy instead of his beloved Rapunzel.

"Do you know what, evil one?" cried the angry fairy. "You have lost Rapunzel forever."

The prince, in his despair, threw himself from the tower.

He escaped with his life, but he lost his eyesight in the fall.

Sorrowfully he wandered about in the forest weeping and, eating nothing but grass and roots.

Some years later he happened into the wilderness where Rapunzel lived miserably with her children.

He thought that her voice was familiar.

She recognized him instantly as well and threw her arms around his neck.

Two of her tears fell into his eyes, and they became clear once again, and he could see as well as before.

 

 

 

Final edition, 1857

Once upon a time there was a man and a woman who had long, but to no avail, wished for a child.

Finally the woman came to believe that the good Lord would fulfill her wish.

Through the small rear window of these people's house they could see into a splendid garden that was filled with the most beautiful flowers and herbs.

The garden was surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared enter, because it belonged to a sorceress who possessed great power and was feared by everyone.

One day the woman was standing at this window, and she saw a bed planted with the most beautiful rapunzel.

It looked so fresh and green that she longed for some. It was her greatest desire to eat some of the rapunzel. This desire increased with every day, and not knowing how to get any, she became miserably ill.

Her husband was frightened, and asked her, "What ails you, dear wife?"

"Oh," she answered, " if I do not get some rapunzel from the garden behind our house, I shall die."

The man, who loved her dearly, thought, "Before you let your wife die, you must get her some of the rapunzel, whatever the cost."

So just as it was getting dark he climbed over the high wall into the sorceress's garden, hastily dug up a handful of rapunzel, and took it to his wife.

She immediately made a salad from it, which she devoured eagerly.

It tasted so very good to her that by the next day her desire for more had grown threefold.

If she were to have any peace, the man would have to climb into the garden once again.

Thus he set forth once again just as it was getting dark. But no sooner than he had climbed over the wall than, to his horror, he saw the sorceress standing there before him.

"How can you dare," she asked with an angry look, "to climb into my garden and like a thief to steal my rapunzel? You will pay for this."

"Oh," he answered, "Let mercy overrule justice. I came to do this out of necessity. My wife saw your rapunzel from our window, and such a longing came over her, that she would die, if she did not get some to eat."

The sorceress's anger abated somewhat, and she said, "If things are as you say, I will allow you to take as much rapunzel as you want. But under one condition: You must give me the child that your wife will bring to the world. It will do well, and I will take care of it like a mother."

In his fear the man agreed to everything.

When the woman gave birth, the sorceress appeared, named the little girl Rapunzel, and took her away.

Rapunzel became the most beautiful child under the sun. When she was twelve years old, the sorceress locked her in a tower that stood in a forest and that had neither a door nor a stairway, but only a tiny little window at the very top.

When the sorceress wanted to enter, she stood below and called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

    Let down your hair to me.

 

Rapunzel had splendid long hair, as fine as spun gold.

When she heard the sorceress's voice, she untied her braids, wound them around a window hook, let her hair fall twenty yards to the ground, and the sorceress climbed up it.

A few years later it happened that a king's son was riding through the forest.

As he approached the tower he heard a song so beautiful that he stopped to listen. It was Rapunzel, who was passing the time by singing with her sweet voice.

The prince wanted to climb up to her, and looked for a door in the tower, but none was to be found.

He rode home, but the song had so touched his heart that he returned to the forest every day and listened to it. One time, as he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw the sorceress approach, and heard her say:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

    Let down your hair.

 

Then he knew which ladder would get him into the tower.

And the next day, just as it was beginning to get dark, he went to the tower and called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

    Let down your hair.

 

The hair fell down, and the prince climbed up.

At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as she had never seen before came in to her. However, the prince began talking to her in a very friendly manner, telling her that his heart had been so touched by her singing that he could have no peace until he had seen her in person. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him as her husband, she thought, "He would rather have me than would old Frau Gothel." She said yes and placed her hand into his. She said, "I would go with you gladly, but I do not know how to get down. Every time that you come, bring a strand of silk, from which I will weave a ladder. When it is finished I will climb down, and you can take me away on your horse." They arranged that he would come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day.

The sorceress did not notice what was happening until one day Rapunzel said to her, "Frau Gothel, tell me why it is that you are more difficult to pull up than is the young prince, who will be arriving any moment now?"

"You godless child," cried the sorceress. "What am I hearing from you? I thought I had removed you from the whole world, but you have deceived me nonetheless."

In her anger she grabbed Rapunzel's beautiful hair, wrapped it a few times around her left hand, grasped a pair of scissors with her right hand, and snip snap, cut it off.

And she was so unmerciful that she took Rapunzel into a wilderness where she suffered greatly.

On the evening of the same day that she sent Rapunzel away, the sorceress tied the cut-off hair to the hook at the top of the tower, and when the prince called out:

 

    Rapunzel, Rapunzel,

    Let down your hair.

 

she let down the hair.

The prince climbed up, but above, instead of his beloved Rapunzel, he found the sorceress, who peered at him with poisonous and evil looks.

"Aha!" she cried scornfully. "You have come for your Mistress Darling, but that beautiful bird is no longer sitting in her nest, nor is she singing any more. The cat got her, and will scratch your eyes out as well. You have lost Rapunzel. You will never see her again."

The prince was overcome with grief, and in his despair he threw himself from the tower.

He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell poked out his eyes.

Blind, he wandered about in the forest, eating nothing but grass and roots, and doing nothing but weeping and wailing over the loss of his beloved wife.

Thus he wandered about miserably for some years, finally happening into the wilderness where Rapunzel lived miserably with the twins that she had given birth to.

He heard a voice and thought it was familiar.

He advanced toward it, and as he approached, Rapunzel recognized him, and crying, threw her arms around his neck.

Two of her tears fell into his eyes, and they became clear once again, and he could see as well as before. He led her into his kingdom, where he was received with joy, and for a long time they lived happily and satisfied.