The Juniper Tree and Other Tales (14 page)

A
POOR WIDOW LIVED ALONE
in a little cottage, and outside the cottage there was a garden with two rose bushes in it. One of them bore white roses, the other red roses. The widow had two daughters like the rose bushes, and one of them was called Snow-White and the other Rose-Red. They were as good and devout, as hard-working and dauntless, as two girls ever were in this world. The only difference was that Snow-White was quieter and gentler than her sister. Rose-Red loved to run around in the fields and meadows, looking for flowers and chasing the birds in summer, while Snow-White stayed at home with their mother, helping her about the house, or reading aloud to her when there was no housework to be done. The two girls loved one another so much that they always held hands when they went out together, and when Snow-White said, “We will never be parted,” Rose-Red would add, “As long as we live,” and their mother said, “You must each of you share what you have with the other.”

They often roamed the forest, picking red berries, but none of the wild animals ever harmed them. Rabbits
ate cabbage leaves from their hands, deer grazed beside them, the birds stayed where they were, perching on the branches, and sang whatever they knew. No accident ever happened to them; if they stayed out late in the forest, and night overtook them, they would lie down on the moss side by side and sleep until morning, and since their mother knew that, she did not feel anxious. Once, when they had spent the night in the forest, and dawn woke them, they saw a beautiful child in a white, shining garment sitting beside them. The child stood up and gave them a friendly smile, but said nothing, and went into the forest. When they looked around, they saw that they had been sleeping very close to the edge of a precipice, and they would probably have fallen over it if they had gone a few steps further in the darkness. Their mother told them that the child must have been a guardian angel looking after good children.

Snow-White and Rose-Red kept their mother’s little house so neat and clean that it was a delight to see it. In summer Rose-Red looked after the house, and put a bunch of flowers by her mother’s bed every morning when she woke up, with a rose from each of the two bushes among the flowers. In the winter Snow-White lit the fire and hung the big pot from the hook over it. The pot was made of brass, but it shone like gold, they scoured it so clean. In the evening, when snow was falling, their mother would say, “Go and bolt the
door, Snow-White,” and then they sat by the hearth, and their mother put on her glasses and read from a big book. The two girls listened as they sat there spinning with a little lamb on the floor beside them, and a white dove on a perch behind them with its head tucked under its wing.

One evening, when they were sitting comfortably like this, someone knocked on the door as if asking to be let in. Their mother said, “Quick, Rose-Red, open the door. It must be a traveller looking for shelter.” Rose-Red went to push back the bolt, but instead of a traveller a bear put his huge shaggy head through the doorway. Rose-Red cried out aloud, and shrank back; the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered up from its perch, and Snow-White hid behind her mother’s bed. But the bear began to speak, saying, “Don’t be afraid, I will do you no harm. I’m half frozen, and I only want to warm myself a little in your house.”

“Oh, poor bear,” said the girls’ mother. “Lie down by the fire, but take care that you don’t singe your fur.” Then she said, “Snow-White, Rose-Red, come out, the bear won’t hurt you. He means well.” They both came out, and so, slowly, did the lamb and the dove, and they weren’t afraid any more.

“Children,” said the bear, “knock some of the snow off my fur, will you?” They fetched the broom, and swept the snow off the bear’s fur, while he stretched out by the
fire, growling happily with pleasure. Before long they felt at ease with their clumsy guest, and played mischievous tricks on him, running their hands through his fur, putting their feet on his back, and pushing him this way and that, or whipping him gently with a hazel rod, and when he growled they laughed. The bear was happy to let them do as they liked, and only if they were a little too rough with him did he cry, “Let me live, children!

When it was time to go to sleep, and the others went to bed, the girls’ mother said to the bear, “You can stay here beside the hearth, in God’s name, and you will have shelter from the cold and the wild weather.”

When day broke, the two children let him out, and he trotted over the snow and into the forest. From then on the bear came every evening at the same time, lay down by the hearth, and let the girls amuse themselves playing with him as much as they liked. Soon they were so used to him that they didn’t bolt the door until their black friend had arrived.

One morning when spring had come, and everything out of doors was green, the bear said to Snow-White, “Now I must leave, and I can’t come back all summer long.”

“Where are you going, dear bear?” asked Snow-White.

“I must go into the forest and guard my treasure from the wicked dwarves. In winter, when the earth is frozen hard, they have to stay underground and can’t break out, but now that the sun has thawed the soil and warmed it, they break through, climb up above ground, and go looking for what they can steal. And anything that falls into their hands and is stored in their caves doesn’t easily find its way back to the light of day.”

Snow-White was very sorry to say goodbye to the bear, but she unbolted the door, and when he pushed his way through it, he got stuck on the latch of the door and left a little of his fur there. It seemed to Snow-White that she saw something shining like gold beneath his pelt, but she wasn’t sure, because the bear lumbered away in a hurry, and had soon disappeared behind the trees.

Some time later their mother sent the girls into the forest to collect brushwood. They found a huge tree lying felled on the ground, and something was jumping up and down on the grass beside the trunk, but they couldn’t see what. When they came closer they saw a dwarf with an old, wrinkled face, and a long snow-white beard. The end of his beard was caught in a split in the tree trunk, and the little creature was jumping up and down like a puppy pulling at a lead, and didn’t know what to do. He glared at the girls with his red, fiery eyes, and shouted, “Why are you
just standing around like that? Can’t you come over here and help me instead?”

“What were you doing, little man?” asked Rose-Red.

“You silly inquisitive goose,” said the dwarf. “I was trying to split this trunk to get some small logs of firewood for the kitchen. Big logs burn the little bit of food that’s enough for the likes of us, folk that aren’t as greedy as you coarse, nasty humans. I drove a wedge into the wood, and it would all have gone well if the accursed timber hadn’t been so slippery, and the wedge accidentally slipped out, so that the split tree sprang back together again, too soon for me to get my nice white beard out of the way. Now it’s stuck, and so am I. Don’t you silly milksops laugh! What nasty folk you are!”

The girls did all they could to pull the beard out, but it was stuck too fast. “I’ll run off to get people to come and help,” said Rose-Red.

“You stupid creatures,” snarled the dwarf, “who needs people? Two of you are already too many for me. Can’t you think of anything better?”

“Don’t be impatient,” said Snow-White. “I’m sure I’ll think of some way out.” Then she took her little pair of scissors out of her pocket and cut off the end of the dwarf ’s beard. As soon as he felt he was free, he snatched up a sack full of gold lying among the tree roots, growling, “Clumsy creatures! Cutting off a piece of my beautiful beard. Bad luck to you!” With these words he slung the
sack over his shoulder and went away without another glance for the children.

A little while after that, Snow-White and Rose-Red were going fishing to catch fish for the pan. When they went down to the stream they saw something hopping about by the bank like a big grasshopper, as if it were trying to jump in. They ran down to the bank and saw the dwarf. “Where are you going?” asked Rose-Red. “You don’t want to jump into the water, do you?”

“I’m not such a fool as that,” screamed the dwarf. “Can’t you see that this accursed fish is trying to pull me in?” The little fellow had been sitting there, fishing, and unfortunately the wind had tangled his beard in his rod and line. When a big fish took the bait next moment, the dwarf wasn’t strong enough to pull it out. The fish was stronger, and was pulling the dwarf towards the water. He clutched at all the grass and reeds that he could reach, but that wasn’t much help; he had to follow the movements of the fish, and he was in constant danger of falling into the stream. The girls arrived at just the right time, held him firmly and tried to free his beard from the line, but it was no use; the beard was hopelessly entangled with the fishing line. There was nothing for it but to bring out the scissors again and cut the beard free, losing part of it in the process. When the dwarf saw that, he cried, “You stupid girls, is that any way to disfigure a dwarf ’s face? Not content with
cutting off the end of my beard, now you cut the best part of it away! I’m not fit to be seen by my own kind like this! I wish you’d had to run and lost the soles of your shoes!”

Then he picked up a bag of pearls lying in the reeds, and without another word he carried it away and disappeared behind a rock.

As it happened, soon after this the girls’ mother sent them both into town to buy thread, needles, laces and ribbons. Their way lay across moorland, where mighty rocks lay scattered here and there. They saw a large bird hovering in the sky, slowly circling above them and coming down lower and lower. Next moment they heard a piercing, pitiful scream. They ran up, and saw to their horror that an eagle had caught their old acquaintance the dwarf in its talons and was about to carry him away. The kind sisters held the dwarf firmly, and pulled against the eagle until it dropped its prey. When the dwarf had recovered from the first shock, he said, “Couldn’t you have been less rough with me? You’ve torn my thin little jacket, leaving it ragged and full of holes, clumsy, awkward creatures that you are!” Then he picked up a sack full of jewels, and slipped into his cave beneath the rocks again.

The girls were used to his ingratitude by now. They went on their way and did their mother’s errands in town. As they came to the moor again on their way home, they
took the dwarf by surprise tipping the jewels out of his sack on a clear patch of ground, and never thinking that anyone would come along so late. The evening sun lit up the gleaming gemstones, and they shimmered and shone so beautifully in all colours of the rainbow that the girls stood still and gazed at them.

“Why are you standing there gaping like fools?” screamed the dwarf, and his grey face turned crimson with fury. He would have gone on shouting angrily at the girls, but a loud growling was heard, and a black bear came out of the nearby forest. The terrified dwarf jumped up, but he couldn’t reach his cave because the bear was already close. He cried out in mortal fear, “Good Master Bear, spare me, and I will give you all my treasures—look, see these beautiful jewels! Spare my life. What good would a skinny little thing like me be to you? I’d be no more than a mouthful for you. Look at those two wicked girls, fat as quails, the pair of them. You’d find them nice, tasty morsels. Eat them, in God’s name, not me.”

The bear took no notice of what he said, but struck the malicious creature a single blow with his paw, and the dwarf never moved again.

The girls were running away, but the bear called after them, “Snow-White, Rose-Red, don’t be afraid. Wait for me, and I’ll come with you.” Then they recognized his voice, and stopped, and when the bear caught up with
them his bearskin suddenly fell away, and there he stood, a handsome man dressed all in gold. “I am a King’s son,” he said, “and the wicked dwarf stole all my treasures and cast a magic spell on me. I was to roam this forest in the shape of a wild bear until his death broke the spell. Now he has the punishment he well deserves.”

So Snow-White was married to him, and Rose-Red to his brother, and they shared the treasures that the dwarf had heaped up in his cave. The girls’ old mother lived happily for many years with her children. But she took the two rose bushes with her, and they stood outside her window, bearing the most beautiful red and white roses year after year.

Translated by Anthea Bell

ISBN 978-1-901285-50-5

E T A Hoffmann’s
The Nutcracker and the Mouse King
is familiar to many, having served as the inspiration for Tchaikovsky’s famous ballet. This edition of the complete German classic, in a new translation by the eminent translator Anthea Bell, displays the full range of the author’s quirky power of invention. It is published here alongside another lesserknown tale
The Strange Child,
in which a young brother and sister meet an unusual playmate in the woods and have to deal with a sinister new schoolmaster.

Deliciously dark, endlessly imaginative and funny, Hoffmann’s stories still enthrall children and adults alike to this day.