mud/content/library/grimm/101_bearskin.txt

Bearskin

There was once a young fellow who enlisted as a soldier, conducted
himself bravely, and was always the foremost when it rained bullets. So
long as the war lasted, all went well, but when peace was made, he
received his dismissal, and the captain said he might go where he
liked. His parents were dead, and he had no longer a home, so he went
to his brothers and begged them to take him in, and keep him until war
broke out again. The brothers, however, were hard-hearted and said,
“What can we do with thee? thou art of no use to us; go and make a
living for thyself.” The soldier had nothing left but his gun; he took
that on his shoulder, and went forth into the world. He came to a wide
heath, on which nothing was to be seen but a circle of trees; under
these he sat sorrowfully down, and began to think over his fate. “I
have no money,” thought he, “I have learnt no trade but that of
fighting, and now that they have made peace they don’t want me any
longer; so I see beforehand that I shall have to starve.” All at once
he heard a rustling, and when he looked round, a strange man stood
before him, who wore a green coat and looked right stately, but had a
hideous cloven foot. “I know already what thou art in need of,” said
the man; “gold and possessions shall thou have, as much as thou canst
make away with do what thou wilt, but first I must know if thou art
fearless, that I may not bestow my money in vain.” “A soldier and
fear—how can those two things go together?” he answered; “thou canst
put me to the proof.” “Very well, then,” answered the man, “look behind
thee.” The soldier turned round, and saw a large bear, which came
growling towards him. “Oho!” cried the soldier, “I will tickle thy nose
for thee, so that thou shalt soon lose thy fancy for growling,” and he
aimed at the bear and shot it through the muzzle; it fell down and
never stirred again. “I see quite well,” said the stranger, “that thou
art not wanting in courage, but there is still another condition which
thou wilt have to fulfil.” “If it does not endanger my salvation,”
replied the soldier, who knew very well who was standing by him. “If it
does, I’ll have nothing to do with it.” “Thou wilt look to that for
thyself,” answered Greencoat; “thou shalt for the next seven years
neither wash thyself, nor comb thy beard, nor thy hair, nor cut thy
nails, nor say one paternoster. I will give thee a coat and a cloak,
which during this time thou must wear. If thou diest during these seven
years, thou art mine; if thou remainest alive, thou art free, and rich
to boot, for all the rest of thy life.” The soldier thought of the
great extremity in which he now found himself, and as he so often had
gone to meet death, he resolved to risk it now also, and agreed to the
terms. The Devil took off his green coat, gave it to the soldier, and
said, “If thou hast this coat on thy back and puttest thy hand into the
pocket, thou wilt always find it full of money.” Then he pulled the
skin off the bear and said, “This shall be thy cloak, and thy bed also,
for thereon shalt thou sleep, and in no other bed shalt thou lie, and
because of this apparel shalt thou be called Bearskin.” After this the
Devil vanished.

The soldier put the coat on, felt at once in the pocket, and found that
the thing was really true. Then he put on the bearskin and went forth
into the world, and enjoyed himself, refraining from nothing that did
him good and his money harm. During the first year his appearance was
passable, but during the second he began to look like a monster. His
hair covered nearly the whole of his face, his beard was like a piece
of coarse felt, his fingers had claws, and his face was so covered with
dirt that if cress had been sown on it, it would have come up.
Whosoever saw him, ran away, but as he everywhere gave the poor money
to pray that he might not die during the seven years, and as he paid
well for everything he still always found shelter. In the fourth year,
he entered an inn where the landlord would not receive him, and would
not even let him have a place in the stable, because he was afraid the
horses would be scared. But as Bearskin thrust his hand into his pocket
and pulled out a handful of ducats, the host let himself be persuaded
and gave him a room in an outhouse. Bearskin was, however, obliged to
promise not to let himself be seen, lest the inn should get a bad name.

As Bearskin was sitting alone in the evening, and wishing from the
bottom of his heart that the seven years were over, he heard a loud
lamenting in a neighboring room. He had a compassionate heart, so he
opened the door, and saw an old man weeping bitterly, and wringing his
hands. Bearskin went nearer, but the man sprang to his feet and tried
to escape from him. At last when the man perceived that Bearskin’s
voice was human he let himself be prevailed on, and by kind words
bearskin succeeded so far that the old man revealed the cause of his
grief. His property had dwindled away by degrees, he and his daughters
would have to starve, and he was so poor that he could not pay the
innkeeper, and was to be put in prison. “If that is your only trouble,”
said Bearskin, “I have plenty of money.” He caused the innkeeper to be
brought thither, paid him and put a purse full of gold into the poor
old man’s pocket besides.

When the old man saw himself set free from all his troubles he did not
know how to be grateful enough. “Come with me,” said he to Bearskin;
“my daughters are all miracles of beauty, choose one of them for
thyself as a wife. When she hears what thou hast done for me, she will
not refuse thee. Thou dost in truth look a little strange, but she will
soon put thee to rights again.” This pleased Bearskin well, and he
went. When the eldest saw him she was so terribly alarmed at his face
that she screamed and ran away. The second stood still and looked at
him from head to foot, but then she said, “How can I accept a husband
who no longer has a human form? The shaven bear that once was here and
passed itself off for a man pleased me far better, for at any rate it
wore a hussar’s dress and white gloves. If it were nothing but
ugliness, I might get used to that.” The youngest, however, said, “Dear
father, that must be a good man to have helped you out of your trouble,
so if you have promised him a bride for doing it, your promise must be
kept.” It was a pity that Bearskin’s face was covered with dirt and
with hair, for if not they might have seen how delighted he was when he
heard these words. He took a ring from his finger, broke it in two, and
gave her one half, the other he kept for himself. He wrote his name,
however, on her half, and hers on his, and begged her to keep her piece
carefully, and then he took his leave and said, “I must still wander
about for three years, and if I do not return then, thou art free, for
I shall be dead. But pray to God to preserve my life.”

The poor betrothed bride dressed herself entirely in black, and when
she thought of her future bridegroom, tears came into her eyes. Nothing
but contempt and mockery fell to her lot from her sisters. “Take care,”
said the eldest, “if thou givest him thy hand, he will strike his claws
into it.” “Beware!” said the second. “Bears like sweet things, and if
he takes a fancy to thee, he will eat thee up.” “Thou must always do as
he likes,” began the elder again, “or else he will growl.” And the
second continued, “But the wedding will be a merry one, for bears dance
well.” The bride was silent, and did not let them vex her. Bearskin,
however, travelled about the world from one place to another, did good
where he was able, and gave generously to the poor that they might pray
for him.

At length, as the last day of the seven years dawned, he went once more
out on to the heath, and seated himself beneath the circle of trees. It
was not long before the wind whistled, and the Devil stood before him
and looked angrily at him; then he threw Bearskin his old coat, and
asked for his own green one back. “We have not got so far as that yet,”
answered Bearskin, “thou must first make me clean.” Whether the Devil
liked it or not, he was forced to fetch water, and wash Bearskin, comb
his hair, and cut his nails. After this, he looked like a brave
soldier, and was much handsomer than he had ever been before.

When the Devil had gone away, Bearskin was quite lighthearted. He went
into the town, put on a magnificent velvet coat, seated himself in a
carriage drawn by four white horses, and drove to his bride’s house. No
one recognized him, the father took him for a distinguished general,
and led him into the room where his daughters were sitting. He was
forced to place himself between the two eldest, they helped him to
wine, gave him the best pieces of meat, and thought that in all the
world they had never seen a handsomer man. The bride, however, sat
opposite to him in her black dress, and never raised her eyes, nor
spoke a word. When at length he asked the father if he would give him
one of his daughters to wife, the two eldest jumped up, ran into their
bedrooms to put on splendid dresses, for each of them fancied she was
the chosen one. The stranger, as soon as he was alone with his bride,
brought out his half of the ring, and threw it in a glass of wine which
he reached across the table to her. She took the wine, but when she had
drunk it, and found the half ring lying at the bottom, her heart began
to beat. She got the other half, which she wore on a ribbon round her
neck, joined them, and saw that the two pieces fitted exactly together.
Then said he, “I am thy betrothed bridegroom, whom thou sawest as
Bearskin, but through God’s grace I have again received my human form,
and have once more become clean.” He went up to her, embraced her, and
gave her a kiss. In the meantime the two sisters came back in full
dress, and when they saw that the handsome man had fallen to the share
of the youngest, and heard that he was Bearskin, they ran out full of
anger and rage. One of them drowned herself in the well, the other
hanged herself on a tree. In the evening, some one knocked at the door,
and when the bridegroom opened it, it was the Devil in his green coat,
who said, “Seest thou, I have now got two souls in the place of thy
one!”