Arthur Hauck
The Grimm brothers were born in Hanau, Germany in 1785/6. They collected
these fairy tales over a period of 13 years. A farmer's wife, Frau Viehmännin
from the village Niederzwehrn near Kassel, related many of them. The first
edition of the Grimm Brother's work was published in 1812-14 (Children- and
Home Fairy Tales (Kinder- und Hausmärchen)).
For generations these tales were passed on orally in the home and were regular
enjoyments on holidays. Many have a hidden morale, some have a spiritual
nature, and others are gruesome.
The reader will discover many new tales; he will also find a few old friends. In
all the familiar ones, the content has been altered from the original. Sometimes
titles are incorrect, i.e., Cinderella, correctly translated Ash Poodle and Rapunzel
(Rampion).
The Grimm brothers wrote the stories as they were heard. They said, "Each
rendition of these tales, which takes away their simplicity, innocence, and modest
purity, removes them from the circle in which they belong and where they may
be enjoyed time and time again without boredom or monotony."
The translator has tried to maintain the purity and simplicity of the originals.
Hopefully the reader will find much enjoyment in this simplicity.
Arthur Kent Hauck was born in Montpelier, Idaho in 1944. He lived in Germany
and Italy while serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints, received a baccalaureate in languages from Brigham Young University,
and certified as German and Italian linguist in the U.S. Army. He concluded his
graduate education at Utah State and Oregon State Universities.
Mr. Hauck's profession has taken him to Alaska, Idaho, and Utah with adjunct
professorships at two universities. He has authored and translated many
scientific publications, translated FISHVET I to German, and wrote two German
dictionaries (Lower German (Plattdeutsch) and aquaculture/fisheries).
He and his wife, Karen, are the parents of four children and reside in Kaysville,
Utah.
Tale of One Who Set Out
To Learn Fear
And when the day broke, the boy placed his fifty coins in his pocket, went
out on the highway, and spoke again and again to himself, "If my flesh could
only creep! If my flesh could only creep!"
A man came along and heard the boy talking to himself. After they had gone
a bit farther until the gallows could be seen, he said, "You see that tree over
there? Seven made merry with the rope maker's daughter, and now they are
learning to fly. Sit under them and wait until night comes, and then you will
surely learn what creepy flesh is."
With that the boy went to the gallows, sat himself under it, and waited until
evening came. Because he got cold, he built a fire. Towards midnight the wind
blew so cold that he could not keep warm in spite of the fire. And when the wind
caused the hanging bodies to bump into each other as they swayed back and
forth, he thought, "I think I am freezing down by the fire...just see how they
wiggle about from the cold." And because he had pity, he placed the ladder on
the tree, climbed up, cut them down one after another, and brought all seven
down. Then he stirred the fire, blew on it, and set the seven around it so they
could warm up. But they just sat there and did not stir; and sparks from the fire
began to burn their clothing. "Watch out," he said to them, "otherwise I'll have
to hang you back up again." The corpses did not hear; they remained silent and
let their rags burn away. This annoyed him, so he said, "If you can not pay heed,
then I can not help you, and I do not want to burn with you." So he hanged them
back up again in a row. Then he sat down next to his fire and fell asleep.
The Three Snake Leaves
The king, when he heard that he had the young man alone to thank for the
victory, promoted him above all other soldiers, gave him great wealth, and
elevated him to second in authority in the kingdom.
The king had a daughter, who was very beautiful, but also quite strange. She
had made a vow to only take a husband, who would promise to be buried alive
with her if she were to die first. "If he really loves me with all his heart," she
said, "then what good is it for him to go on living?" And likewise she did the
same; if he should die first, then she would climb into the grave with him.
This unusual vow had thus far scared away all suitors, but the young man
was so enchanted with her beauty, that he paid no attention and asked the king
for her hand. "Do you also understand what you must promise?" asked the king.
"I must go to the grave with her," he answered, "if I outlive her; but my love
for her is so great, that I pay no attention to the danger."
The Fisherman and His Wife
The next morning, just as day broke, the wife awoke first. From her bed she
saw the magnificent landscape stretching before her. Her husband stirred; she
poked him in the side with her elbow, and said, "Husband, get up and look out
the window. Couldn't we be king over all that land? Go to the flounder! We want
to be king."
"But wife," said the fisherman, "why should we be king? I do not wish to be
king."
"Well," replied his wife, "perhaps you do not wish to be king, but I wish to
be king. Go to the flounder! I want to be king."
"Oh, wife," moaned the fisherman, "why do you wish to be king? I do not
want to ask this of the flounder."
"Why not?" asked his wife. "Go at once...I must be king."
The fisherman went and was very unhappy that his wife wished to be king.
"It is just not right; it is just not right," he thought. He did not want to go, but he
did anyway.
When he came to the sea, the water was black-gray. It swelled up from below
and had a putrid smell. He stood there and said,
"Come, come forth I pray thee will,
Flounder, flounder in the sea.
The wife, my dear Isabel,
Wants not the same as me."
"Well, what does she want then?" said the flounder.
"Alas," said the fisherman, "she wants to be king."
"Go back home; she is king already," replied the flounder.
Quick-Witted Hans
Hans takes Gretel, ties her to a rope, leads her to the hayrack, and hobbles
her. Then Hans goes to his mother.
"Good evening, mother."
"Good evening, Hans. Where have you been?"
"Was at Gretel's."
"What did you take her?"
"Took nothing."
"What did Gretel give you?"
"Gave nothing; came with."
"Where did you put Gretel, Hans?"
"Tied to a rope; hobbled in the hay rack; tossed her some grass."
"What you did was dumb, Hans. You should have tossed her some friendly
eyes."
"No problem; will do better."
Little Table Set Yourself,
Gold Donkey, and Club in the Sack
The journeyman thanked him, hanged the sack up, and whenever someone
came too near to him and wanted to harm him bodily, he would say, "Club, out
of the sack," and immediately the club jumped out and pounded one person after
another upon the jacket or jersey and did not wait until he had taken it off. And
this happened so fast that before he knew what had happened, his turn had
already come.
The young lathe worker arrived in the evening time at the inn where his
brothers had been cheated. He laid his knapsack before him on the table and
began to tell what remarkable things he had seen in the world. "Yes," he said,
"one can surely find a 'little table set yourself,' gold donkeys, and good blessings
of the such that I do not look down upon. But that is nothing compared to the
treasure that I have acquired and carry about in my sack."
The innkeeper perked up his ears. "What in the world could that be?" he
thought. "The sack is probably filled with jewels; I should also get it cheaply, for
all good things come in threes."
When it was sleeping time, the guest stretched himself out on the bench and
laid his sack under his head as a pillow. The innkeeper, when he thought that the
guest might lie in deep sleep, went over, jerked, and pulled cautiously and
carefully on the sack to pull it perhaps away that he might put another in its
place.
But the lathe worker had already waited long for this; as the innkeeper was
just to give a hearty tug, he called, "Club, out of the sack."
Immediately the little club flew from the sack onto the innkeeper's body, and
pressed its unique attack home.
The innkeeper cried for mercy, but the louder he cried, the heftier the club
beat its strokes on his back until he finally fell exhausted to the ground.
Then the lathe worker said, "If you don't give the 'little table set yourself'
and the gold donkey back, the dance will start all over again."
