[This is not a tale as actually found anywhere in German oral tradition, but rather a creation of Wilhelm Grimm. A version obtained on 10 March, 1811, from Dortchen Wild—one of the girls who lived next door to the Grimms in Cassel—was first published as no. 55 in the edition of 1812; but for the 1819 edition, Wilhelm merged that narrative with three others (from the Hassenpflugs and from Lisette Wild), and it is a translation of that artifical composite as it latter reappeared in the edition of 1857 that you see before you here. About the Grimm Collection.]
Once upon a time there was a miller who was poor but who had a pretty daughter. By chance he got an opportunity to speak with the king and, in order to make an impression, said to him, “I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold.” “That’s a skill I very much like” said the king to the miller. “If your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her tomorrow to my palace, and I’ll test her.” When the girl was brought to him, he took her into a room full of straw, gave her a spinning wheel and spindle and said, “Now get to work! And if by tomorrow morning you haven’t spun this straw into gold, you’re doomed to die.” Then he personally locked the room, and she was all alone there.
The poor miller’s daughter sat there and for the life of her didn’t know what to do. She had no idea how to spin straw into gold, and her fear increased until she finally began to weep. Suddenly the door opened, and a little dwarf came in and said, “Good evening, miller’s daughter. Why are you weeping so?” “Alas,” answered the girl, “I’m supposed to spin straw into gold and don’t know how.” “What will you give me,” said the dwarf, “if I spin it for you?” “My necklace,” said the girl. The dwarf took the necklace, sat down at the spinning wheel, and whir, whir, whir, three pulls and the spool was full. Then he put on a second and, whir, whir, whir, three pulls and the second was full, too, and so it went till morning. Then all the straw was spun and all the spools were full of gold.
At sunrise the king appeared and, seeing the gold, was amazed and joyful, but his heart grew ever greedier for gold. He had the miller’s daughter taken into another still larger room full of straw and ordered her to spin it, too, in one night, if she valued her life. The girl didn’t know what to do and wept. Again the door opened, and the dwarf appeared, saying, “What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold?” “The ring from my finger,” answered the girl. The dwarf took the ring, again began to make the spinning wheel whir, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold. At the sight of it the king was frightfully happy but still didn’t have enough gold and had the miller’s daughter taken into an even larger room full of straw, saying, “This room, too, you must spin tonight; if, however, you succeed, you shall be my wife.” “Even if she’s just a miller’s daughter,” he thought, “I won’t find a richer wife in the whole wide world.” When the girl was alone, the dwarf appeared for the third time and said, “What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold this time, too?” “I’ve nothing left that I can give you,” answered the girl. “Promise me then your first child, if you become queen.” “Who knows how things will turn out,” thought the miller’s daughter and in her plight, not knowing what to do, promised the dwarf what he asked. In return the dwarf once again spun the straw into gold. In the morning when the king came and found everything as he had desired, he celebrated his wedding with her, and the pretty miller’s daughter became a queen.
After a year she brought a fine baby into the world and no longer gave any thought to the dwarf. Then he suddenly came into her room, saying, “Now give me what you promised.” The queen was frightened and offered the dwarf all the riches of the kingdom if he’d leave her the child, but the dwarf said, “No, a living being is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world.” Then the queen began so to lament and weep that the dwarf took pity on her. “I’ll give you three days,” he said; “if in that time you know my name, you may keep your child.”
The whole night through the queen thought of all the names she’d ever heard and sent a messenger across country to enquire far and wide of any other names there might be. When the dwarf came the next day, she began with Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar, and recited in order all the names she knew, but each time the dwarf would say, “That’s not my name.” The second day she had enquiries made around in the neighborhood about the names of the people there and recited to the dwarf the strangest and most unusual names. “Is your name by chance Skeleton Beast? or Sheep’s Tail? or Boot Lace?” Every time he’d answer, “That’s not my name.” On the third day the messenger came back and said, “I haven’t been able to discover a single new name, but on coming around the corner of the forest to a high mountain, where the fox and the hare say goodnight to one another, I saw a little house with a fire burning outside it and a most ridiculous dwarf hopping around the fire on one foot, crying,
Today I’m baking, tomorrow I’ll brew,
Day after tomorrow I’ll fetch the queen’s child;
Oh, what a fine thing it is that no one knows
That my name is Rumpelstilts!
You can imagine the queen’s joy on hearing the name, and when the dwarf came in shortly after and asked, “Well, Lady Queen, what’s my name?” she asked first, “Is it Conrad?” “No.” “Is it Harry?” “No.”
Is it perhaps Rumpelstilts?
“The Devil told you! the Devil told you!” screamed the dwarf, and in his anger drove his right foot so deep into the ground that he went down to his waist. Then in his rage he seized his left foot with both hands and tore himself right in two.
