In the deep of winter, when the world was white and still, a queen sat sewing at a window framed in black ebony. As she watched the snow drift down she pricked her finger with the needle, and three drops of blood fell upon the snow that had gathered on the sill. Red upon white, within the black of the frame, it was so lovely a sight that the queen made a wish: for a daughter with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony wood. In time the wish was granted, and a daughter was born to her, and she was called Snow White. But the queen did not live to see her grow, and within the year she was laid in the cold ground.
The king mourned, and in time he took a new wife. The new queen was beautiful beyond any woman in the land, but her heart was proud and cold, and she could not bear that anyone should be counted lovelier than herself. She owned a mirror, an old and secret thing, that could not tell a lie, and every morning she would stand before it and say:
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”
And every morning the mirror would answer, “You, my queen, are the fairest of them all.” And she would go away satisfied, for she knew the glass could neither flatter nor lie.
But the years passed, as years do, and Snow White grew from a child into a girl, and from a girl into a young woman, and she grew lovelier with each passing season, until her gentleness and her beauty together outshone the queen’s cold splendour as the morning outshines a candle. And one day the queen asked her question as she always did, and the mirror answered her differently:
“You, my queen, are fair, it is true. But Snow White is fairer now than you.”
The queen went white, and then red, and then very still and very calm, which in her was the most dangerous thing of all. From that hour she hated Snow White, and envy grew in her like a green and poisonous weed, and gave her neither rest nor peace by day or by night.
At last she could bear it no longer. She summoned a huntsman and commanded him to take the girl deep into the forest and be rid of her there, and to bring back her heart as proof that the deed was done.
The huntsman did as he was bid, and led Snow White far in among the trees. But when he drew his knife, the girl turned her gentle face to him and begged for her life, and he found he could not do it, for she had done no wrong, and she was young, and she was afraid. “Run away, poor child,” he said, “run into the wood and never come back.” And he thought to himself that the wild beasts would soon make an end of her, and so at least her blood would not be on his hands. On his way home he came upon a young deer, and took its heart back to the queen in her place, and the queen believed the girl was dead.
Now Snow White was all alone in the great forest, and the trees stood so tall and dark about her that she was full of fear. She began to run, over sharp stones and through brambles that tore at her, past the eyes of wild things that watched her from the shadows, and she ran and stumbled and ran again until the sun began to sink. Just as her strength gave out she came upon a little house standing in a clearing, and because she could go no further, she went in to rest.
Everything in the house was small, but neat and clean beyond telling. There stood a little table spread with a white cloth and set with seven little plates, each with its own little spoon, and seven little knives and forks, and seven little cups. Against the wall stood seven little beds in a row, each made up with sheets as white as snow. Snow White, being hungry and thirsty, took a little bread and a few vegetables from each plate, and a sip from each cup, for she did not wish to take everything from any one of them. Then, so weary she could scarcely stand, she tried the little beds until she found one that was neither too long nor too short but just right, and she said her prayers, and lay down, and fell fast asleep.
When it was quite dark the masters of the house came home. They were seven dwarfs who dug and delved in the mountains all the day, searching the stone for copper and for gold, and they were small men with rough kind hands and long beards and hearts a good deal larger than themselves. They lit their seven little lamps, and by the light they saw at once that someone had been there, for things were not as they had left them.
The first said, “Who has been sitting in my chair?” The second said, “Who has been eating from my plate?” The third said, “Who has been taking my bread?” And so it went down to the seventh; and then, holding up his lamp, one of them saw Snow White lying asleep in the little bed, and called the others softly, and they came with their lamps and stood round her and marvelled.
“What a lovely child!” they whispered to one another, and they were so taken with her that they had not the heart to wake her, but let her sleep on; and the one whose bed it was slept an hour in each of the others’ beds that night, until the morning came.
When Snow White woke and saw the seven little men gathered round her she was afraid, but they spoke to her so kindly that her fear melted away. They asked her name, and she told them, and when they asked how she had come to their house she told them all of it: the mirror, and the queen’s hatred, and the huntsman, and her long flight through the wood. The dwarfs listened, and shook their heads, and when she had finished they said, “If you will keep house for us, and cook and make the beds and wash and sew and knit, and keep everything neat and clean, then you may stay with us, and you shall want for nothing.” Snow White agreed with all her heart, and so she stayed.
But each morning before they left for the mountain, the dwarfs warned her, and their small faces were grave. “The queen will soon know that you are alive,” they said. “Let no one into the house while we are gone. Guard yourself, and open the door to no stranger, whatever they should say.”
Now the queen, believing herself once more the fairest in the land, went again to her mirror and asked her question, certain of the answer. But the glass replied:
“Here you are the fairest, it is true. But far away, beyond the seven hills, in the house of the seven dwarfs, Snow White is living still; and she is fairer far than you.”
The queen shook with rage, for she knew the mirror could not lie, and she knew then that the huntsman had deceived her. From that moment she could think of nothing but how she might destroy Snow White, for so long as there was anyone in the world more beautiful than herself, envy would give her no peace. At last she hit upon a plan. She stained her face and dressed herself in the rags of an old pedlar woman, so that no one could have known her, and over the seven hills she went, to the house of the seven dwarfs.
She knocked at the door and cried, “Fine wares to sell! Fine wares!” Snow White looked out of the window and said, “Good day, good woman. What have you to sell?” “Laces,” said the old woman, “pretty laces of every colour,” and she held up one woven of bright silk. Surely, thought Snow White, there can be no harm in one honest old pedlar, and she unbolted the door and let her in, and bought the pretty lace. “Why, child,” said the old woman, “how badly you are laced. Come, let me lace you properly for once.” Snow White, suspecting nothing, stood before her; and the old woman took the lace and drew it through, and pulled it so tight, and so quick, that the breath went out of the girl and she fell down as though dead. “There,” said the queen, “you were the fairest,” and away she hurried.
But it was near evening, and soon the seven dwarfs came home. When they saw their dear Snow White lying on the floor as still as death, their hearts near broke. They lifted her, and saw how tightly she was laced, and cut the lace in two; and slowly the breath came back into her, and little by little she revived. When she told them what had happened, they said, “That old pedlar was no other than the wicked queen. Take care, and let no living soul in while we are away.”
And the queen, home again, went to her mirror, and it told her once more that Snow White lived and was fairer far than she. The blood ran cold in her veins. “But this time,” she said, “I shall think of something that will make an end of you.” And being skilled in wicked and secret arts, she made a poisoned comb, and dressed herself as another old woman, quite different from the first, and went again over the seven hills.
She knocked, and called her wares, and Snow White looked out and said, “Go your way; I dare let no one in.” “But surely you may look,” said the woman, and held up the poisoned comb; and it shone so prettily that the girl was tempted, and forgot herself, and opened the door. When they had agreed on the price, the old woman said, “Now let me comb your hair properly, for once,” and Snow White, thinking no harm, bent her head. But scarcely had the comb touched her hair when the poison did its work, and she fell down senseless. “There, you paragon of beauty,” said the queen, “now you are done for,” and she went her way. But once more it was near evening; and when the dwarfs came home and found Snow White lying as if dead, they thought at once of the queen, and searched, and found the poisoned comb, and drew it out; and Snow White came to herself, and told them all, and again they warned her to be on her guard and to open to no one.
The queen went home and stood before her mirror, and when it told her yet again that Snow White lived and was still the fairest of all, she trembled and shook with fury. “Snow White shall die,” she cried, “if it costs me my own life to do it!” Then she went into a hidden and lonely chamber where no one ever came, and there she made an apple, the most cunning and most deadly thing she had ever made. To look at, it was beautiful beyond words, white with one blushing red cheek, so that whoever saw it longed for it. But she had poisoned only the red half, and left the white half wholesome. Then she painted her face and dressed herself as a farmer’s wife, and went once more over the seven hills.
She knocked, and Snow White put her head out of the window and said, “I dare not let anyone in; the seven dwarfs have forbidden it.” “It is all one to me,” said the peasant woman. “I shall soon be rid of my apples. Here, I will give you one.” “No,” said Snow White, “I dare not take it.” “Are you afraid it is poisoned?” said the old woman. “Look, I will cut the apple in two: you shall eat the red cheek, and I will eat the white.” For the apple was so cleverly made that only the red half held the poison. Snow White longed for the beautiful apple, and when she saw the peasant woman eating her half, she could resist no longer, and reached out and took the other, and bit into the red cheek. But scarcely had the morsel touched her lips than she fell down dead.
The queen looked on her with a dreadful eye, and laughed aloud, and said, “White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony! This time the dwarfs cannot wake you.” And when she reached home and asked her mirror, it answered at last, “You, my queen, are the fairest of all”; and her envious heart had rest, so far as an envious heart can ever rest.
The dwarfs, when they came home at evening, found Snow White lying on the ground, and no breath came from her lips, and she was dead. They lifted her up, and looked to see whether they could find anything poisonous, and unlaced her, and combed her hair, and washed her with water and with wine; but nothing was of any use, and the dear child stayed dead. They laid her upon a bier, and all seven of them sat round it and wept, and they wept for three whole days. Then they would have buried her; but she looked still so fresh and living, and her cheeks were still so fair, that they could not bear to put her down into the dark earth. So they made a coffin all of clear glass, that she might be seen from every side, and laid her in it, and wrote her name upon it in letters of gold, and that she was a king’s daughter. Then they carried the coffin up onto the mountain, and one of them was always by it to keep watch. And the birds came too and mourned for Snow White: first an owl, and then a raven, and last of all a little dove.
A long, long time Snow White lay in her glass coffin, and she did not decay, but seemed only to sleep, for she was still as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony. Now it happened that a king’s son came riding through the forest, and came to the dwarfs’ house to pass the night. He saw the coffin upon the mountain, and the beautiful Snow White within it, and read the golden letters. And he said to the dwarfs, “Let me have the coffin; I will give you whatever you ask for it.” But the dwarfs answered, “We would not part with it for all the gold in the world.” Then he said, “Then give it to me as a gift, for I cannot live without looking upon Snow White, and I will honour and cherish her as my own.” And as he spoke so, the good dwarfs took pity on him, and gave him the coffin.
The king’s son had it carried away upon the shoulders of his servants. But it happened that they stumbled over the root of a tree, and with the shock the piece of poisoned apple that Snow White had bitten came loose from her throat. And before long she opened her eyes, and lifted the lid of the coffin, and sat up, alive and well once more. “Where am I?” she cried. And the king’s son, full of joy, said, “You are with me,” and told her all that had happened, and said, “I love you more than everything in the world. Come with me to my father’s castle, and be my wife.” And Snow White looked on him with love, and went with him; and their wedding was held with great splendour and rejoicing.
As for the wicked queen, on the morning of the wedding she stood before her mirror, not knowing whose wedding it was, and asked, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” And the mirror answered, “You, my queen, are fair, it is true, but the young queen is fairer far than you.” She was seized with such a fright, and such a jealousy, that she knew not what to do with herself; and yet she could not rest until she had gone to see this young queen for herself. And when she came in, and knew Snow White again, she stood stiff with terror and could not stir. But it was her own envy that had carried her there, and her own envy, in the end, that was her undoing.
Envy cannot bear that another should shine, and in the end it burns no one so surely as the one who carries it.