Array The Brothers Grimm - Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm - A New English Version

‘I’m not allowed to tell you,’ she said. ‘It’s a secret. I can’t tell anyone. I had to swear under the open heavens that I wouldn’t say a word about it. If I hadn’t sworn, I’d have been killed.’

The old king tried to persuade her, but she wouldn’t be moved. Nothing would make her break her vow.

But finally he said, ‘I tell you what. Don’t tell your troubles to me; tell them to the iron stove in the corner. That way you’ll be keeping your vow, and you can still unburden yourself.’

So she crept into the old iron stove, and there she began to cry, and soon she had poured out her whole heart.

‘Here I sit, all alone and forsaken by the whole world, and all the time I’m the daughter of a king. A false maidservant forced me to change clothes with her, and she took my place as the bride. And now I have to work in the meadow looking after the geese. If my mother knew about this, it would break her heart in two.’

The old king was standing outside by the chimney, and he heard everything she said. He came back inside and told her to come out of the stove. He had her dressed in royal clothes, and it was a wonder to see how beautiful she was.

Then the old king summoned his son and explained that his bride had married him by deceit, and that she was no princess, but only a maidservant. His true bride was right there, the one who had been a goose girl. When the king’s son saw how lovely the true bride was, and learned how virtuously she had behaved, he was full of joy.

They ordered a great feast to which all the court and every good friend they had were invited. At the head of the table sat the bridegroom, and on one side sat the false bride, and on the other the true one. The maidservant was completely taken in, because she didn’t recognize the princess in her beautiful dress.

After they had eaten and drunk, and were all in good spirits, the old king put a riddle to the false bride: what punishment would someone deserve if they had treated their mistress in this way? And he told the whole story, asking again when he’d finished, ‘What sentence does such a person deserve?’

The false bride said, ‘She deserves nothing better than to be stripped naked and put in a barrel studded on the inside with sharp nails. Then two white horses should be harnessed to it, and drag her up and down the streets until she’s dead.’

‘That is you,’ said the old king. ‘You have pronounced your own sentence. Everything you described shall be done to you.’

And when the sentence had been carried out, the king’s son married his true bride, and they reigned over their kingdom in peace and happiness.

Tale type:ATU 533, ‘The Speaking Horsehead’

Source:a story told to the Grimm brothers by Dorothea Viehmann

Similar stories:Giambattista Basile: ‘The Two Cakes’ ( The Great Fairy Tale Tradition , ed. Jack Zipes); Katharine M. Briggs: ‘Roswal and Lilian’ ( Folk Tales of Britain )

Poor Falada! He deserved a better fate. We might think he deserved a bigger part in the story, too. Perhaps if he’d spoken up sooner, his mistress wouldn’t have had such a bad time.

And good and beautiful though she undoubtedly is, the princess/goose girl has to give second place, as far as enterprise and vigour are concerned, to the wicked maidservant, who deserves a longer story. It’s hard for a storyteller to make an attractive character out of a meek and docile victim who doesn’t argue or fight back once; but then, this isn’t a novel.

The name Falada, with an extra ‘L’, was used by the German novelist Rudolf Ditzen (1893–1947), author of Jeder stirbt für sich allein ( Every Man Dies Alone ; 1947) in his nom de plume Hans Fallada.

Once there was a young fellow who enlisted as a soldier, fought bravely, and was always at the front when red-hot bullets were raining down. As long as the war lasted everything went well, but when peace was signed, he was discharged. The captain said he could go wherever he liked. His parents were dead and he no longer had a home, so he went to his brothers and asked if he could live with them until there was another war.

But his brothers were hard-hearted and said, ‘What have your problems got to do with us? We don’t need you here. Clear off and shift for yourself.’

All the soldier had left was his musket, so he put it on his shoulder and went out into the world. Soon he came to a great heath where there was nothing to be seen but a circle of trees. He sat under them thinking about his fate, and feeling pretty sorry for himself.

‘I’ve got no money and no prospects,’ he thought. ‘All I can do is make war, but if all they want is peace, I’m useless. I’ll probably starve to death.’

Suddenly he heard a rustling, and when he looked round to see what it was, he saw a strange man standing there. He wore a smart green jacket and looked perfectly respectable, except for the hideous great horse’s foot he had at the end of one leg.

‘I know what you want,’ he said to the soldier, ‘and you can have all of it, as much gold and property as you like, but first you must show me how brave you are. I’m not going to give my money to someone who runs away at the first sign of danger.’

‘Well, I’m a soldier, and it’s my profession to be afraid of nothing. And you can test me if you like.’

‘All right,’ said the man, ‘look behind you.’

The soldier turned around and saw a huge bear running towards him, growling furiously.

‘Oh ho,’ said the soldier, ‘I’ll tickle your snout for you, you ugly brute. See how you feel like growling after this.’

He levelled his musket at the bear and fired a shot. It hit the bear in the muzzle, and it fell down at once.

‘I can see you don’t lack for courage,’ said the stranger, ‘but I haven’t finished yet. There’s one more condition.’

‘As long as it doesn’t spoil my chances of going to heaven,’ said the soldier, who knew quite well who the stranger was. ‘If that’s at risk, I’ll have nothing to do with it.’

‘Well, we’ll see about that,’ said the stranger. ‘Here’s what you’ve got to do: for the next seven years, you mustn’t wash yourself, or comb your hair, or cut your nails, or say the Lord’s Prayer. I’ll give you a jacket and a cloak to wear all that time. Now if you die during those seven years, you’re mine, you understand? If you stay alive, you’re free, and rich as well, don’t forget, for the rest of your life.’

The soldier thought about it. He’d faced death so often on the battlefield that he was used to danger, but poverty was another matter. He decided to take up the Devil’s offer.

The Devil took off his green jacket and handed it to the soldier, saying, ‘If you put your hand in the pocket when you’ve got this jacket on, you’ll always find a handful of money.’

Then the Devil skinned the bear and said, ‘You must use this bearskin as your cloak, and you must sleep in it too, and you mustn’t lie in any other bed. And you must go by the name of Bearskin.’

With those words the Devil disappeared.

The soldier put the jacket on and reached into the pocket, and found that the Devil had been telling the truth. He put the bearskin on like a cloak, and started his wanderings. He went wherever he liked, did whatever he pleased, and spent as much as he found in his pocket.

For the first year he looked all right, but during the second he began to look like a monster. His face was almost entirely covered with his long coarse beard, his hair was matted and tangled, his fingers ended in claws, and he was so dirty that if you sowed cress on his face, it would have sprouted. Everyone who saw him shuddered or ran away. However, he always gave money to the poor to pray that he’d stay alive for seven years, and because he always paid in full and at once for anything he wanted, he could always find shelter.