[This is not a tale as actually found anywhere in German oral tradition, but rather a creation of the two Grimm brothers themselves, who conflated a number of different Hessian stories to form the text of this one. About the Grimm Collection.]
Near a large forest lived a poor woodcutter with his wife and two children. The boy’s name was Haensel and the girl’s Gretel. The woodcutter had little to eat, and once when a great famine swept the country, he was no longer able to earn even their daily bread. One evening when he was lying in his bed and tossing about and worrying, he sighed and said to his wife, “What’s to become of us? How can we feed our poor children when we’ve nothing left for ourselves?” “Do you know what, husband,” answered the wife, “the first thing tomorrow morning we’ll take the children out into the densest part of the forest. There we’ll kindle them a fire and give each a little piece of bread; then we’ll go about our work and leave them there alone; they won’t find the way back home, and we’ll be rid of them.” “No, wife,” said the man, “that I won’t do. How could I have the heart to leave my children alone in the forest; the wild animals would soon come and tear them to pieces.” “O you fool,” she said, “then all four of us will starve to death; you might as well start planing the boards for our coffins,” and gave him no peace until he agreed. “But all the same I’m sorry for the poor children,” said the man.
The two children hadn’t been able to get to sleep, either, because they were hungry and heard what their stepmother said to their father. Gretel wept bitter tears and said to Haensel, “Now it’s all up with us.” “Be quiet, Gretel,” said Haensel, “Don’t worry, I’ll get us out of this, of course.” And when the mother and father had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his jacket, opened the lower half of the door, and crept out of the house. The moon was shining bright, and the white pebbles which were in front of the house gleamed like so many new silver coins. Haensel stooped down and put as many of them as he could in his jacket pocket. Then he went back and said to Gretel, “Don’t worry, sister dear, and just go to sleep; God won’t forsake us.” Then he went to bed again.
When day dawned, even before sunrise the mother came and woke the children up, saying, “Get up, you lazybones, we’re going into the forest to fetch wood.” Then she gave each a piece of bread, saying, “Here’s something for your dinner, but don’t eat it beforehand; you’re not getting anything else.” Gretel put the bread in her apron because Haensel had the stones in his pocket. Then they all set out together for the forest. When they’d been walking a little while, Haensel stopped and looked back toward the house and did so again and again. The father said, “Haensel, what are you looking at there, and why are you lagging behind? Watch out or you’ll be forgetting your legs.” “Oh Father,” said Haensel, “I’m looking at my white kitten; it’s sitting on top of the roof and wants to say good-bye to me.” The woman said, “You fool, that’s not your kitten; it’s the morning sun shining on the chimney.” But Haensel hadn’t been looking at the cat but was ever tossing one of the white pebbles from his pocket onto the path.
When they reached the middle of the forest, the father said, “Now gather some wood, children! I’ll make a fire for you so you won’t get cold.” Haensel and Gretel gathered brush, quite a pile of it. The brush was kindled, and when the fire was blazing, the wife said, “Now lie down by the fire, children, and take a rest. We’re going into the forest to cut wood; when we’re finished, we’ll come back and fetch you.”
Haensel and Gretel sat by the fire and when it was noon ate their piece of bread. And because they heard the blows of the ax, they thought their father was near by. But it wasn’t the ax; it was a branch he’d tied to a dead tree, which the wind was banging back and forth. When they’d been sitting for a long time, their eyes closed from weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When they finally woke up, it was already pitch-dark. Gretel began to weep and said, “How shall we get out of the forest now?” But Haensel consoled her, saying, “Just wait a bit till the moon’s up; then we’ll easily find our way.” When the full moon had risen, Haensel took his sister by the hand and followed the pebbles, which glittered like new silver coins and showed them the way. They kept walking all night and at daybreak were back at their father’s house. They knocked at the door, and when the wife opened it and saw Haensel and Gretel, she said, “You naughty children, why did you sleep so long in the forest? We thought you weren’t coming back at all.” But the father was glad, for he was sorry he’d left them alone in the forest.
Not long after that there was again a famine everywhere, and one night the children heard their mother say in bed to their father, “Everything’s been eaten up again; we’ve only got a half a loaf of bread left and then we’ll be at the end of our rope. The children must be sent away. Let’s take them deeper into the forest to make sure they won’t find the way out again. There’s no other salvation for us.” With heavy heart the man thought, “It’d be better to share your last morsel with your children,” but the woman would listen to nothing he said, scolded him, and reproached him. But one step leads to another, and since he’d given in the first time, he had to the second, also.
The children, however, were still awake and heard the conversation. When the mother and father were asleep, Haensel again got up and was going out to pick up pebbles as before, but the wife had locked the door, and Haensel couldn’t get out. Nevertheless, he consoled his sister and said, “Don’t weep, Gretel, and just go to sleep; the dear Lord will surely help us.”
Early in the morning the wife came and got the children out of bed. They received their piece of bread, but it was even smaller than last time. On their way to the forest Haensel crumbled it up in his pocket and, stopping often, scattered the crumbs on the ground. “Haensel, why are you stopping and looking around?” said his father; “go ahead.” “I’m looking at my pigeon; it’s sitting on the roof and wants to say good-bye to me,” answered Haensel. “You fool!” said the woman, “that’s not your pigeon; it’s the morning sun shining on the chimney.” Nevertheless, Haensel gradually scattered all the bread crumbs along the path.
The woman led the children still deeper into the forest, where they’d never been in all their lives. Then a big fire was again made, and the mother said, “Just sit there, children, and if you feel tired, you can take a little nap. We’re going into the forest to cut wood and this evening when we’re finished, we’ll come and fetch you.” When it was noon, Gretel shared her bread with Haensel, who’d scattered his piece along the way. Then they fell asleep, and the evening passed and no one came to get the poor children. They didn’t wake up till it was pitch-dark, and Haensel consoled his sister, saying, “Just wait, Gretel, till the moon’s up; then we’ll see the bread crumbs I scattered. They’ll show us the way home.” When the moon rose, they set out but didn’t find any bread crumbs, for the thousands of birds that fly about in forest and field had pecked them all up. Haensel said to Gretel, “We’ll surely find the way,” but they didn’t find it. They walked all night and still another day from morning till evening but didn’t get out of the forest. And they were very hungry, for they had nothing but a few berries that were on the ground, and because they were so tired that their legs wouldn’t carry them any farther, they lay down under a tree and fell asleep.
By now it was already the third morning since they’d left their father’s house. They began walking again but kept getting deeper and deeper into the forest, and unless help came soon, they were doomed to die of exhaustion. When it was noon, they saw a pretty snow-white bird perched on a branch; it sang so beautifully that they stopped and listened to it. And when it had finished, it flapped its wings and flew ahead of them; they followed it until they came to a cottage. There it lighted on the roof, and when they got quite near, they saw that the cottage was made of bread with a cake roof and that the windows were of sugar candy. “Let’s make for it,” said Haensel, “and have a fine meal. I’ll eat a piece of the roof and, Gretel, you may eat some of the window; that’s sweet.” Haensel reached up and broke off a little piece of the roof for himself to see how it tasted, and Gretel took her place at the windowpanes and nibbled at them. Then a shrill voice called out from the living room,
“Nibble, nibble, nibble!
Who’s nibbling at my cottage?“
The children answered,
“The wind, the wind,
The Heavenly Child,”
and went on eating without being put off. Haensel, who quite liked the taste of the roof, pulled down a large piece, while Gretel took out a whole round windowpane, sat down, and ate it with relish. Then suddenly the door opened, and a very old woman leaning on a crutch came slinking out. Haensel and Gretel were so frightened that they dropped what they had in their hands. But the old woman shook her head and said, “Well, well, you dear children, who brought you here? Come right in and stay with me; no harm will befall you.” She took them both by the hand and led them into her cottage. They were served a good meal with milk, pancakes and sugar, apples, and nuts. Then she made up two pretty beds with white sheets, and Haensel and Gretel lay down in them and thought they were in Heaven.
The old woman was, however, only pretending to be kind; as a matter of fact, she was a wicked witch who lay in wait for children and who’d built the cottage of bread just to lure them to her. Once she got a child in her power, she’d kill it, cook it, and eat it, and that would be a red-letter day for her. Witches have red eyes and can’t see far, but they’ve a keen sense of smell, just like animals, and scent the approach of human beings. As Haensel and Gretel were getting near her, she laughed wickedly and mockingly said, “I’ve got them! they shan’t get away from me again!” Early in the morning before the children were awake, she was already up and, seeing them both sleeping so sweetly with their full rosy cheeks, muttered to herself, “That’ll be a fine snack.” Then with her withered hand she seized Haensel and carried him to a little pen and shut him up behind a grilled door. No matter how hard he cried, it did him no good. Then she went to Gretel, shook her till she woke up, and said, “Get up, you lazybones, fetch some water and cook something good for your brother; he’s outside in the pen and must be fattened up. Once he’s fat, I’ll eat him.” Gretel began to weep bitterly, but it was no use: she had to do what the wicked witch ordered her.
Now the best food was cooked for poor Haensel, but Gretel got nothing but crab shells. Every morning the old woman would slink out to the pen and cry, “Haensel! stick out your fingers so I can feel whether you’ll be fat soon.” But Haensel stuck out a little bone, and the old woman, whose eyesight was poor, couldn’t see it and thought it was one of Haensel’s fingers and was surprised he didn’t get fat. When four weeks had passed and Haensel still stayed thin, she got impatient and wouldn’t wait any longer. “Come on, Gretel!” she called out to the girl, “hurry up! bring some water! whether Haensel’s fat or lean, I’m going to kill him tomorrow and cook him.” Oh, how the poor little sister cried out when she had to carry the water, and how the tears rolled down her cheeks! “Dear Lord, please help us,” she cried; “if only the wild animals in the forest had devoured us, then we at least should have died together.” “Just stop your whining,” said the old woman; “it won’t do you any good at all.”
Early in the morning Gretel had to go out and hang up the kettle full of water and kindle the fire. “First let’s do some baking,” said the old woman, “I’ve already heated up the oven and kneaded the dough.” She pushed poor Gretel out to the oven, from which big flames already were leaping. “Crawl in!” said the witch, “and see whether it’s properly hot, so we can put the bread in.” Once Gretel was in, she intended to shut the oven and roast Gretel in it and then she was going to eat her up, too. But Gretel saw what she was up to and said, “I don’t know how to. How do I get in?” “Stupid goose,” said the old woman, “the opening’s big enough. Why, I could get in myself,” waddled up and stuck her head in the oven. Then Gretel gave her a shove so that she slid way in, shut the iron door, and shot the bolt. My! then she began to howl—something horrible! But Gretel ran away, and the wicked witch burned to death miserably.
Then Gretel went straight to Haensel, opened his pen, and called, “Haensel, we’re saved! The old witch is dead!” Then Haensel jumped out like a bird from its cage when the door’s opened. How happy they were! They fell on each other’s necks, skipped about, and kissed one another, and because they didn’t need to be afraid any more, they went into the witch’s house, where there were chests of pearls and jewels in every nook and corner. “These are even better than pebbles,” said Haensel, filling his pockets as full as he could, while Gretel said, “I want to bring something home, too,” and filled her apron. “Now let’s be off,” said Haensel, “and get out of this enchanted forest.” But when they’d been walking for a couple of hours, they reached a big body of water. “We can’t get across,” said Haensel; “I don’t see any plank or bridge.” “And there isn’t any boat here,” answered Gretel, “but there’s a white duck. If I ask it, it’ll help us across.” Then she called out,
“Duck, duck!
Here’s Haensel and Gretel.
There’s no plank or bridge;
Take us on your white back.”
As a matter of fact, the duck did come up, and Haensel got on it and told his sister to sit down beside him. “No,” answered Gretel, “it’ll be too heavy for the duck; it had better carry us over one at a time.” The good creature did so, and when both were safely across and had gone a short distance, the forest kept getting more and more familiar to them, and finally they spied their father’s house from afar. Then they began to run and rushed into the living room and fell on their father’s neck. The man hadn’t had a single happy hour since he’d left his children alone in the forest. The wife, however, had died. Gretel shook out her apron, and the pearls and jewels bounced about in the room, and Haensel threw one handful after the other from his pocket. Then all their troubles were at an end, and they lived most happily together.
My tale’s done. There runs a mouse; whoever catches it may make a great big cap out of its fur.
