by Maria Tatar
The girls pulled as hard as they could on the beard, but it was stuck tight.
“I’ll run and get help,” Rose Red said.
“You crazy dolts,” the dwarf snarled. “You want to go get help and bring other people over here? You’re already two too many. Don’t you have any better ideas?”
“Why are you so impatient?” asked Snow White. “I can help you,” and she pulled out a little pair of scissors from her pocket and cut the tip of the beard off. As soon as the dwarf realized that he was free, he grabbed his sack, which was lying between the roots of the tree and was filled with gold, lifted it up, and muttered to himself: “Ill-mannered brats! Cutting off a piece of my elegant beard! The devil take you!” With that he threw his sack on his shoulders and left, without so much as a glance at the children.
Not much later Snow White and Rose Red were planning to catch some fish for dinner. When they got near the brook, they saw something that looked like a huge grasshopper hopping toward the brook and about to jump in. They ran to get a closer look and recognized the dwarf.
“Where are you going?” asked Rose Red. “You’re not planning to jump in the water, are you?”
“How can you think I’m such a big idiot?” screamed the dwarf. “Can’t you tell that that damned fish is trying to pull me into the water?”
The dwarf had been sitting there fishing, and unluckily for him, the wind had tangled his beard with the line. When a big fish bit, right after his beard got caught, the scrawny little chap didn’t have the strength to pull the fish out of the water. Once the fish had the upper hand, it began to pull the dwarf into the water. The dwarf was clutching on to the grass and rushes, but it was no use, he had to follow the movements of the fish and was just about to get dragged into the water. The girls arrived at just the right moment, and they held on to him while they were trying to free his beard from the line. But it was no use: the beard and the line were hopelessly tangled. The only thing they could do was to take out the little pair of scissors again and cut the beard, leaving a little bit of it on the fishing line. When the dwarf realized what was going to happen, he screamed at them: “Is that how you disfigure people, you nasty little toads? It wasn’t enough to clip the end of my beard, now you’ve cut off the best part of it. I’m ashamed to show my face at home. I hope that you have to use your legs sometime soon and that the soles of your shoes go missing.” With that he grabbed a sack of pearls that he had hidden in the rushes, dragged it away, and disappeared beneath a rock.
One day the mother sent the girls into town to buy needles and thread, along with laces and ribbons. Their path took them across a heath that had big rocks strewn all over it. Suddenly they caught sight of a huge bird soaring above them. It circled them on the way down and swooped down on a rock not too far away from them. A moment later they heard a pitiful cry of distress and ran in the direction of the voice. To their horror they realized that the eagle had seized the dwarf and was about to fly off with him. The kindhearted children grabbed on to the little man and held tight, struggling with the eagle until it finally let go of its prey.
The dwarf was just recovering from his fright when he screamed: “Can’t you treat me with a little more care? You pulled so hard at my thin little jacket that it’s practically in pieces and full of holes. You evil little clods!” Then he picked up a sack full of diamonds and slipped under a rock to get back to his cave. By now the girls were accustomed to his lack of gratitude, and they continued on their way, finishing their errands. On the way home, when they were crossing the heath, they surprised the dwarf, who had just emptied his sack of jewels on a spot he had cleared out. He had not imagined that someone might be passing by so late in the day. The evening sun was shining on the sparkling stones so that their colors glimmered and glowed magnificently. The children stopped in their tracks and gazed at the stones.
“Why are you standing there gaping at my stones,” the dwarf screamed, and his ash gray features turned scarlet with rage. He wanted to continue with his foul language, but a loud growling filled the air and a black bear dashed out of the woods onto the heath. The dwarf jumped up in fright and would have made his usual getaway if the bear had not gotten so close. He cried out in terror: “My dear Mr. Bear, please spare my life. I promise to give you my treasures—just look at these beautiful diamonds lying on the ground. Give me my life! Why would you want to eat a pitiful, scrawny fellow like me? You’ll hardly even notice that I’m between your jaws. Just take a look at those two wicked girls. They’re as fat as young quails and will make tasty morsels. Go after them, for God’s sake!” The bear paid no attention to what he was saying and gave the wicked creature a single blow with his paw, and after that the dwarf didn’t move.
The girls had fled, and the bear called after them: “Snow White and Rose Red, don’t be afraid. Wait for me, and we can walk together.” The girls recognized the voice and stopped in their tracks. When the bear caught up with them, his skin fell off, and he stood there suddenly as a handsome man, dressed in gold. “I am the son of a king,” he said, “and that wicked dwarf stole my treasures and turned me into a wild bear forced to roam the forest. Only his death could break the spell. Now he’s gotten the punishment he deserved.”
Snow White married the prince and Rose Red married his brother, and they shared the great wealth that the dwarf had gathered in his cave. The mother lived for many years with her children in peace and happiness. She brought with her the two rosebushes, which she planted in front of her window, and every year they bore the most beautiful flowers, white and red.
THE GOLDEN KEY
ne day during the winter, when the snow was piled high, a poor boy was sent out with his sled to get some wood. He gathered what he could and put it on his sled, but it was so cold that, instead of going straight home, he decided to make a fire to warm himself up. While he was clearing a space and getting the snow out of the way, he found a golden key. And since he was sure that where there was a key there must also be a lock, he started scraping away at the ground and found an iron casket.
“Oh, I hope that the key fits the lock!” he thought. “There must be precious things in the casket.” He couldn’t find a keyhole anywhere, but finally he noticed that there was a small opening, so tiny that you could hardly see it. He tried the key, and it fit perfectly. Now he’s started turning it, and we’ll just have to wait until he finishes unlocking the casket and lifts the lid. Then we’ll know what kinds of wonderful things can be found in it.
THE JEW IN THE BRAMBLES
here was once a rich man who had a hardworking and honest servant. This fellow was the first to get out of bed in the morning and the last into bed at night. If there was any unpleasant work to be done that no one was willing to touch, he went ahead and did it. And yet he was always in good spirits, content with his lot, and he never complained. When a year had passed, his master had still not given him any wages, because he had a plan: “This is working well, because it will not only save me money but also keep him from leaving my service.” The servant didn’t say a word. He continued to work for another year, and when he got no wages the second time, he still didn’t complain and stayed on. When a third year had gone by, the master thought over the situation, reached into his pockets, but came up empty. At that point the servant finally spoke up: “Master,” he said, “I’ve served you faithfully for three years. Now it’s time to do your part and pay me what you owe me. I’d like to go out into the world and travel for a while.” The old skinflint replied: “Yes, my good man, you’ve served me without complaint, and in exchange I plan to be generous with you.” He reached into his pockets, counted out three pennies, and said to the servant: “Here is a penny for every year you worked. You won’t get this generous a wage from any other master.” The faithful servant, who didn’t know much about money, accepted the windfall, thinking: “Now that my pockets are full, I won’t have to worry or wear myself down with hard work.
”
Away the servant went, up hill and down dale, skipping along and singing to his heart’s content. It happened that he was walking past some bushes when a gnome jumped out and addressed him: “Where are you headed, my lucky lad? I see that you’re not burdened with any cares.”
“Why in the world should I be glum?” the servant replied. “I’ve got plenty of cash. There’s three years’ worth of wages jingling in my pockets.”
“Just how big is your treasure?” the gnome asked.
“You’re wondering how much I’ve got? Three pennies in hard cash, no more, no less.”
“Listen to me,” said the gnome. “I’m a poor, needy man. Give me those three pennies. I can’t work anymore, but you’re young and can still make a living.”
The servant had a kind heart and felt sorry for the gnome. He handed over the three pennies and said: “Go ahead and take them, in God’s name. I’ll certainly manage without them.”
The gnome replied: “I can see that you have a kind heart, and so I am going to grant you three wishes, one for each penny that you gave me, and they will all come true.”
“Aha,” the servant exclaimed. “I can see that you’re one of those miracle workers! Well, if that’s the case, then I will wish first for a bird gun that will hit everything I aim at. Next I’ll wish for a fiddle that will make everyone dance when I start playing it. And third, I wish that whenever I ask someone for a favor, they won’t be able to refuse me.”
“Your three wishes have been granted,” the gnome said, and he reached into the bushes, and just imagine, the fiddle and the bird gun were right there as if on command. He gave them to the servant and said: “Whenever you ask anyone for a favor, they won’t be able to refuse it.”
“Well, what more could you want?” the servant said to himself, and he went on his merry way. Before long he met a Jew with a long goatee who had stopped to listen to the song of a bird perched up high on a tree branch.
“What a divine creature,” he cried out. “That little bird has such an awfully loud voice! If only it belonged to me! If someone could just catch it for me!”
“If that’s all you want,” said the servant, “I’ll bring that bird down in no time.” And he aimed his gun so accurately that the bird fell down into the brambles.
“You dirty dog,” the servant said to the Jew, “go get that bird for yourself now.”
“If you drop the ‘dirty,’” said the Jew, “then the dog will go fetch it. You hit the bird, and I’ll go retrieve it.” And he got down on all fours and began to work his way into the thicket of brambles. When he was right in the midst of the bushes, the servant decided to make mischief. He took out his fiddle and started playing. The Jew lifted his feet and started dancing around; and the longer the servant played, the wilder the dance became. The brambles tore his shabby coat, combed his goatee, and scraped and scratched him all over.
“Good heavens,” the Jew cried out, “what’s the meaning of all that fiddling? Would you kindly stop! I’m not interested in dancing.”
The servant paid no attention at all and thought to himself: “You’ve skinned people plenty of times. Now the brambles can give you a scraping.” He kept on playing, and the Jew had to keep jumping higher until bits of his coat were left hanging on the thorns.
“Ouch and double-ouch,” the Jew cried out. “I’ll give the gentleman whatever he wants if he just stops fiddling. Even a whole sack of money.”
“If you’re that generous,” said the servant, “then I’ll be glad to stop my music. But I have to admit that your dancing has real style.” And with that he took the sack of money and went on his way.
The Jew stood there and held his tongue as he watched the servant disappear and fade from sight. Then he screeched at the top of his lungs: “You’re a miserable excuse for a musician! You beer-hall fiddler! Just wait until I catch you alone. I’ll chase you down until the soles of your shoes come off! You scamp, put a nickel in your mouth so you can say you’re worth five cents.” And the Jew hurled every insult he could think up. When he had finally let off some steam and was feeling better, he hurried into town to talk to the judge.
“Your Honor, I’ve got nothing but aches and pains. A wicked man robbed me in broad daylight on the road. Look what he’s done to me! A stone on the ground would take pity. My clothes are torn to shreds. I’ve got scrapes and scratches all over my body! My paltry assets have been taken off in a sack. My precious ducats, one more beautiful than the next. For God’s sake, throw the rascal into jail.”
The judge asked: “Did a soldier slash you with his sword?”
“God forbid!” the Jew replied. “The fellow wasn’t carrying a sword, but he did have a gun slung over his shoulder and a fiddle hanging around his neck. The rascal will be easy to recognize.”
The judge sent out his men in search of the servant, whom they tracked down easily since he was in no rush, and they found the sack of gold on him. When he was brought before the judge, he said: “I didn’t touch the Jew, and I didn’t take his money. He gave it to me of his own free will so that I would stop my fiddling, which he just couldn’t stand.”
“Good God,” the Jew shouted. “He’s lying through his teeth.” The judge didn’t believe the servant either and said: “That’s an unlikely story. No Jew would do that.” And he sentenced the good servant to death by hanging for highway robbery. When he was being escorted away, the Jew shouted after him: “You layabout, you no-good musician, you’re finally going to get what you deserve.” The servant climbed calmly up the ladder with the hangman, but on the top rung he turned around and said to the judge: “Grant me one last favor before I die.”
“As long as you don’t ask me to spare your life,” the judge replied.
“Not in your life,” the servant declared.
“Just let me play my fiddle one last time.”
The Jew stirred up a great commotion: “For God’s sake, don’t let him do that, don’t let him do it.”
But the judge said: “Why shouldn’t I allow him this one small pleasure? I’ll grant his wish, and that’s that.” Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t have been able to deny the request, because of the gift bestowed on the servant.
The Jew cried out: “Help me! Help me now! Tie me up, tie me down!”
The good servant took the fiddle from around his neck and tucked it under his chin. With the first stroke of his bow, everything, began to shake and quake, the judge, the clerks, and the executioner, who dropped the rope that he was going to use to tie down the Jew. With the second stroke, everyone got on their feet, and the executioner let go of the servant and started getting ready to dance. At the third stroke, everyone jumped high in the air and began dancing. The judge and the Jew were in the front row and kicked the highest. Before long everyone was dancing, even the people who had been drawn just by curiosity to the market. Young and old, fat and thin, were all mixed up. Even the dogs stood up on their hind legs and started hopping. The longer the servant played, the higher the dancers jumped until finally they were hitting each other on the head and beginning to screech with pain. At length, the judge, who was completely out of breath, cried out: “I’ll spare your life. Just stop that fiddling.”
The good servant let himself be persuaded to stop playing, hung the fiddle back around his neck, and climbed down the ladder. He walked over to the Jew, who was lying on the ground, gasping for breath. “You scoundrel! Now just admit where you got that money or I’ll get my fiddle out and start playing again.”
“I stole it! I stole it!” he screamed. “And you earned it honestly.”
The judge had the Jew taken to the gallows and hanged as a thief.
Of the three tales in the Grimms’ collection that contain Jewish figures, the two that feature anti-Semitism in its most virulent form were included in the Compact Edition designed for young readers. “T
he Jew in the Brambles” and “The Good Bargain” were featured prominently, whereas “The Bright Sun Will Bring It to Light,” a tale that illustrates the compulsion to confess in the case of a young man who murders a Jew for his money, was not included.
Why would the Grimms include these stories in a collection that they repeatedly describe as reflecting the “purity” and “innocence” of the folk, particularly since nothing like these tales exists in the other major nineteenth-century collections of German fairy tales? Ruth B. Bottigheimer has pointed out that Wilhelm Grimm’s friendship with members of the conservative Christian-German Society in Berlin may have been symptomatic of a deep strain of anti-Semitism and that the German Legends published by the Grimms intensifies that suspicion because of its inclusion of two tales about bloodthirsty Jews. Furthermore, a dream recorded by Wilhelm Grimm in 1810 recycles motifs from “The Jew in the Brambles,” suggesting that the tale resonated powerfully with him on an unconscious level.
In their annotations to “The Jew in the Brambles,” the Grimms point out that other versions of the tale stage a conflict between a servant and a monk, making it clear that, when faced with the option of including an anti-clerical tale or an anti-Semitic tale, they chose the latter. A French version of the tale known as “The Three Gifts,” a variant of the tale type folklorists designate as “The Dance among the Thorns,” describes the fortunes of a boy who is persecuted by his wicked stepmother. After demonstrating compassion for those less fortunate, the boy is granted three wishes, and he proceeds to ask for a crossbow that will always hit its target and a flute that will force everyone who hears it to dance. The third wish is directed at his cruel stepmother, who is forced to let loose a “loud fart” whenever she sneezes. When a priest reprimands him for humiliating his stepmother, the boy sends the priest into a bramble patch to fetch a bird shot down by his crossbow. No sooner has the priest stepped into the brambles than the boy takes out his flute and strikes up a tune on it. The priest begins to whirl and dance so rapidly that his cassock gets caught in the thorns and is torn to shreds. Efforts to mobilize the legal system to punish the boy are in vain—the hero takes out his flute, forcing the priest, clerk, and justice of the peace to dance to his tune.
