[Note: First published in the edition of 1843, this is not a tale as actually found anywhere in German oral tradition, but rather a creation of Wilhelm Grimm. To form it, he started with a text from the environs of Paderborn that he and his brother had published under the title “Der Teufel Grünrock” (The Devil Green-Jacket), no. 15 in the edition of 1815, and again (renumbered 101) in the edition of 1819. For the present version, Wilhelm conflated with that text another story gotten from a Baroque—late 18th-century—novel, Abenteurlicher Simplicissimus, (1669) by Hans Jakob Christoffel von Grimmelshausen; one of the elements obtained from that source is the present name of the tale, Der Bärenhäuter. About the Grimm Collection.]
There was once a young fellow who enlisted as a soldier, conducted himself bravely, and was always in the van when it was raining bullets. As long as the war lasted, all went well, but when peace was concluded, he received his discharge, and his captain said he might go where he pleased. His parents were dead, and no longer having any home, he went to his brothers and begged them to support him until the next war. But the brothers were hardhearted and said, “What can we do with you? We can’t make any use of you; see how you can get along on your own.” The soldier had only his rifle left; this he shouldered and intended to set out into the world. He reached a big moor where nothing but a circle of trees was to be seen. Very sadly he sat down beneath them and meditated his fate. “I haven’t any money,” he thought, “I’ve learned nothing but soldiering, and now because peace is concluded, they don’t need me any more. I foresee that I’m bound to starve.”
Suddenly he heard a roar, and as he was looking about, a stranger stood before him, wearing a green jacket and looking quite stately, but with a nasty hoof of a foot. “I know just what’s wrong with you,” said the man; “you shall have as much gold and goods as you can possibly squander, but I must first be sure that you’re not afraid so that I shan’t be spending my money for nothing.” “How do soldiers and fear go together?” he answered; “you can try me out.” “Come on then,” answered the man, “look behind you!” The soldier turned around and saw a big bear trotting toward him and roaring. “O ho!” said the soldier, “I’ll tickle your nose so you won’t want to roar any more,” took aim and shot the bear in the muzzle so that it collapsed and didn’t stir again.
“I see clearly,” said the stranger, “that you don’t lack courage, but there’s still another condition that you must fulfill.” “So long as it doesn’t jeopardize the salvation of my soul,” answered the soldier, who saw plainly who was confronting him; “in that case I won’t commit myself to anything.” “That you’ll see for yourself,” answered Green-Jacket; “for the next seven years you may neither wash, comb your beard or hair, cut your nails, nor once say the Lord’s Prayer. Furthermore, I’ll give you a jacket and a cloak which you must wear during this time. If you die within these seven years, you’re mine; if, however, you remain alive, you’ll be free and rich, too, as long as you live.” The soldier reflected on his dire distress, and since he had faced death so often, he was willing to risk it this time, too, and agreed. The Devil took off his green jacket and handed it to the soldier, saying, “With this jacket on, if you reach into the pocket, you’ll always have a handful of money.” Then he skinned the bear and said, “This shall be your cloak and your bed, too, for you must sleep on it and may not get in any other bed. And because of this costume your name’s to be Bearskin.” Hereupon the Devil vanished.
The soldier put the jacket on, reached at once into the pocket, and found that everything was as it should be. Then he put on the cloak, went out into the world, was in fine spirits, and abstained from nothing that was pleasant for him and hard on the money. The first year things still went pretty well, but by the second he really looked a fright. His hair covered almost his whole face, his beard was like a piece of coarse felt, his fingers had claws, and his face was so covered with filth that had one sown cress there, it would have sprouted. Everybody who saw him ran away; but because everywhere he gave money to the poor for them to pray that he might not die within the seven years, and because he paid well for everything, he was always able to get lodging just the same. In the fourth year he came to a tavern where the innkeeper wouldn’t take him in and wouldn’t even let him have a place in the stable for fear his horses would shy. Still, when Bearskin reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of ducats, the innkeeper yielded and gave him a room in an outbuilding. Even so, he had to promise not to show himself lest the inn get a bad name.
As Bearskin was sitting alone one evening, wishing with all his heart that the seven years were up, he heard a loud lamenting in an adjoining room. He had a compassionate heart, opened the door, and saw an old man weeping bitterly and wringing his hands above his head. Bearskin stepped nearer, but the man jumped up and was about to run away. Hearing a human voice he finally gave in, and by his kindly words Bearskin got him to reveal to him the cause of his trouble. Little by little his fortune had vanished, he and his daughters had to suffer want, and he was so poor that he couldn’t even pay the innkeeper and was about to be put in jail. “If those are your only worries,” said Bearskin, “I’ve got plenty of money.” He summoned the innkeeper, paid him, and put another purse of gold in the unhappy man’s pocket.
When the old man saw that he was freed of his worries, he didn’t know how to show his gratitude. “Come with me,” he said to Bearskin, “my daughters are marvels of beauty; choose one of them as your wife. When she hears what you’ve done for me, she won’t hesitate. It’s true that you’re a bit odd looking, but she’ll soon fix you up again.” That pleased Bearskin and he went along. When the eldest looked at him, she was so horrified by his face that she screamed and ran away. The second stopped, to be sure, and surveyed him from head to foot, then said, “How can I take a husband who no longer looks like a human being? I’d prefer the shaved bear that was once on show here and claimed to be a man; it at least had on the fur coat and white gloves of a cavalryman. If he were merely ugly, I could get used to him.” But the youngest said, “Father dear, he must be a good man to have helped you out of your distress. If you’ve promised him a bride in return, your word must be kept.” It was a shame that Bearskin’s face was covered with filth and hair, otherwise one might have seen how his heart rejoiced within him when he heard these words. He took a ring from his finger, broke it in two, gave her one half and kept the other for himself. In her half he wrote his name and in his half her name, and bade her put her piece carefully away. Thereupon he took his leave, saying, “I must keep wandering for three more years; if I don’t come back, you’ll be free because then I shall be dead. But pray God to preserve my life.”
The poor girl clothed herself all in black, and whenever she thought of her bridegroom, tears would come to her eyes. From her sisters she got nothing but scorn and derision. “Watch out for yourself,” said the eldest, “if you give him your hand, he’ll hit it with his paw.” “Be on your guard,” said the second; “bears love sweets, and if you please him, he’ll eat you up.”
“You must always do just as he wants,” continued the eldest, “otherwise he’ll start growling.” And the second went on to say, “My! the wedding will be great sport; bears dance well.” The girl kept quite still and didn’t let herself be turned from her purpose.
Bearskin moved about the world from place to place, did good where he could, and gave generously to the poor so that they would pray for him. Finally, as the last day of the seven years dawned, he again went out to the moor and sat down under the circle of trees. Before long there was a rush of wind and the Devil was standing before him with a look of annoyance. Then he threw Bearskin the old jacket and demanded his green jacket back. “We haven’t got that far yet,” answered Bearskin. “First you must clean me up.” Willy-nilly, the Devil had to fetch water, wash Bearskin off, comb his hair, and cut his nails. Then he looked like a brave warrior and was far handsomer than ever.
When the Devil had happily departed, Bearskin felt light of heart. He went into town, put on a splendid velvet jacket, took his seat in a coach drawn by four white horses, and drove to his bride’s house. No one recognized him; the father thought him a distinguished army colonel and led him into the room where his daughters were sitting. He had to seat himself between the two eldest; they poured him wine, placed the finest delicacies before him, and thought they never in the world had seen a handsomer man. But the bride sat opposite him in her black weeds, didn’t raise her eyes or speak a word. When finally he asked the father if he would give him one of his daughters in marriage, the two eldest jumped up, ran to their room, and were going to put on splendid clothes, for each fancied to herself that she would be the one chosen.
As soon as the stranger was alone with his bride, he took out the half-ring, tossed it into a tumbler of wine, which he handed her across the table. She took it, but when she’d drunk the wine and found the half-ring lying at the bottom, her heart beat fast. She fetched the other half, which she was wearing on a ribbon around her neck and held it against his half: it was clear that the two halves fitted perfectly. Then he said, “I am your affianced bridegroom whom you saw as Bearskin; however, by the grace of God I’ve regained my human form and have become clean again.” He went up to her, embraced her, and gave her a kiss. Meanwhile the two sisters came back in full regalia, and when they saw that the handsome man had got the youngest and heard that it was Bearskin, they ran out, full of rage and anger; one drowned herself in the well, the other hanged herself on a tree.
That evening there was a knock on the door, and when the bridegroom opened it, it was the Devil in his green jacket. “See,” he said, “now I’ve got two souls for your one.”
