Versão inglesa de Jack Zipes da edição original de 1812/1815 dos Contos de Grimm.
The juniper has a rich folklore tradition, but it is not especially pertinent to the tree in this tale. The oil, ashes, berries, leaves, and bark are used in many cultures for healing purposes, and it is the therapeutic power of the tree that seems to make it a natural choice as the resting place for the boy. In Russia the juniper tree is a birch; in England it is a rose tree.
Existe tradução desse conto em português a circular na rede mundial como A Amoreira
All this took place a long time ago, most likely some two thousand years ago1. There was a rich man who had a beautiful and pious wife, and they loved each other very much. Though they didn’t have any children, they longed to have some.2 Day and night the wife prayed for a child, but still none came, and everything remained the same.
Now, in the front of the house there was a yard, and in the yard stood a juniper tree. One day during winter the wife was under the tree peeling an apple, and as she was peeling it, she cut her finger, and her blood dripped onto the snow.3
“Oh,” said the wife, and she heaved a great sigh. While she looked at the blood before her, she became quite sad. “If only I had a child as red as blood and as white as snow!”4
Upon saying that, her mood changed, and she became very cheerful, for she felt something might come of it. Then she went home.
After a month the snow vanished.5 After two months everything turned green. After three months the flowers sprouted from the ground. After four months all the trees in the woods grew more solid, and the green branches became intertwined. The birds began to sing, and their song resounded throughout the forest as the blossoms fell from the trees. Soon the fifth month passed, and when the wife stood under the juniper tree, it smelled so sweetly that her heart leapt for joy. Indeed, she was so overcome by joy that she fell down on her knees. When the sixth month had passed, the fruit was large and firm, and she was quite still. In the seventh month she picked the juniper berries and ate them so avidly that she became sad and sick. After the eighth month passed, she called her husband to her and wept.
“If I die,” she said, “bury me under the juniper tree.”
After that she was quite content and relieved until the ninth month had passed. Then she had a child as white as snow and as red as blood. When she saw the baby, she was so delighted that she died.6
Her husband buried her under the juniper tree, and he began weeping a great deal. After some time he felt much better, but he still wept every now and then. Eventually, he stopped, and after more time passed, he took another wife. With his second wife he had a daughter, while the child from the first wife was a little boy, who was as red as blood and as white as snow. Whenever the woman looked at her daughter, she felt great love for her, but whenever she looked at the little boy, her heart was cut to the quick. She couldn’t forget that he would always stand in her way and prevent her daughter from inheriting everything, which was what the woman had in mind.7 Gradually the devil took hold of her and influenced her feelings toward the boy until she became quite cruel toward him8: she pushed him from one place to the next, slapped him here and cuffed him there, so that the poor child lived in constant fear. When he came home from school, he found no peace at all.
One day the woman went up to her room, and her little daughter followed her and said, “Mother, give me an apple.”
“Yes, my child,” said the woman, and she gave her a beautiful apple from the chest that had a large heavy lid with a big, sharp iron lock.
“Mother,” said the little daughter, “shouldn’t brother get one too?”
The woman was irritated by that remark, but she said, “Yes, as soon as he comes home from school.”
And, when she looked out of the window and saw him coming, the devil took possession of her, and she snatched the apple away from her daughter. “You shan’t have one before your brother,” she said and threw the apple into the chest and shut it.
Meanwhile the little boy came through the door, and the devil compelled her to be friendly to him and say, “Would you like to have an apple, my son?” Yet, she gave him a fierce look.
“Mother,” said the little boy, “How ferocious you look! Yes, give me an apple.”
Then she felt compelled to coax him.
“Come over here,” she said as she lifted the lid. “Take out an apple for yourself.”
And as the little boy leaned over the chest, the devil prompted her, and crash! She slammed the lid so hard that his head flew off and fell among the apples. Then she was struck by fear and thought, “How am I going to get out of this?” She went up to her room and straight to her dresser, where she took out a white kerchief from a drawer. She put the boy’s head back on his neck and tied the neckerchief around it so nothing could be seen. Then she set him on a chair in front of the door and put the apple in his hand.
Some time later little Marlene came into the kitchen and went up to her mother, who was standing by the fire in front of a pot of hot water, which she was constantly stirring.
“Mother,” said Marlene, “brother’s sitting by the door and looks very pale. He’s got an apple in his hand, and I asked him to give me the apple, but he didn’t answer, and I became very scared.
“Go back to him,” said the mother, “and if he doesn’t answer you, give him a box on the ear.”
Little Marlene returned to him and said, “Brother, give me the apple.”
But he wouldn’t respond.
So she gave him a box on the ear, and his head fell off. The little girl was so frightened that she began to cry and howl. Then she ran to her mother and said, “Oh, mother, I’ve knocked my brother’s head off!” And she wept and wept and couldn’t be comforted.
“Marlene,” said the mother. “What have you done! You’re not to open your mouth about this. We don’t want anyone to know, and besides there’s nothing we can do about it now. So we’ll make a stew out of him.”
The mother took the little boy and chopped him into pieces. Next she put them into a pot and let them stew.9 But Marlene stood nearby and wept until all her tears fell into the pot, so it didn’t need any salt. When the father came home, he sat down at the table and asked, “Where’s my son?’
The mother served a huge portion of the stewed meat, and Marlene wept and couldn’t stop.
“Where’s my son?”the father asked again.
“Oh,” said the mother, “he’s gone off into the country to visit his mother’s great-uncle. He intends to stay there awhile.”
“What’s he going to do there? He didn’t even say good-bye to me.”
“Well, he wanted to go very badly and asked me if he could stay there six weeks. They’ll take good care of him.”
“Oh, that makes me sad,” said the man. “It’s not right. He should have said good-bye to me.” Then he began to eat and said, “Marlene, what are you crying for? Your brother will come back soon.” Without pausing, he said, “Oh, wife, the food tastes great! Give me some more!” The more he ate, the more he wanted. “Give me some more,” he said. “I’m not going to share this with you. Somehow I feel as if it were all mine.”
As he ate and ate, he threw the bones under the table until he was all done. Meanwhile, Marlene went to her dresser and took out her best silk neckerchief from the bottom drawer, gathered all the bones from beneath the table, tied them up in her silk kerchief, and carried them outside the door. There she wept bitter tears and laid the bones beneath the juniper tree. As she put them there, she suddenly felt relieved and stopped crying. Now the juniper tree began to move. The branches separated and came together again as though they were clapping their hands in joy. At the same time smoke came out of the tree, and in the middle of the smoke there was a flame that seemed to be humming. Then a beautiful bird flew out of the fire and began singing magnificently.10 He soared high in the air, and after he vanished, the juniper tree was as it was before. Yet the silk kerchief was gone. Marlene was very happy and gay. It was as if her brother were still alive, and she went merrily back into the house, sat down at the table, and ate.
Meanwhile, the bird flew away, landed on the roof of a goldsmith’s house, and began to sing:
“My mother, she killed me.
My father, he ate me.
My sister, Marlene, she made sure to see
my bones were gathered secretly,
bound nicely in silk, as neat as can be,
and laid beneath the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet! What a lovely bird I am!”
The goldsmith was sitting in his workshop making a golden chain. When he heard the bird singing on his roof, he thought the song was very beautiful. Then he stood up, and as he walked across the threshold, he lost a slipper. Still, he kept on going, right into the middle of the street with only one sock and a slipper on. He was also wearing his apron, and in one of his hands he held the golden chain, in the other his tongs. The sun was shining brightly on the street as he walked, and then he stopped to get a look at the bird.
“Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you sing! Sing me that song again.”
“No,” said the bird, “I never sing twice for nothing. Give me the golden chain, and I’ll sing it for you again.”
“All right,” said the goldsmith. “Here’s the golden chain. Now sing the song again.”
The bird swooped down, grasped the golden chain in his right claw, went up to the goldsmith, and began singing:
“My mother, she killed me.
My father, he ate me.
My sister, Marlene, she made sure to see
my bones were gathered secretly,
bound nicely in silk, as neat as can be,
and laid beneath the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet! What a lovely bird I am!”
Then the bird flew off to a shoemaker, landed on his roof, and sang:
“My mother, she killed me.
My father, he ate me.
My sister, Marlene, she made sure to see
my bones were gathered secretly,
bound nicely in silk, as neat as can be,
and laid beneath the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet! What a lovely bird I am!”
When the shoemaker heard the song, he ran to the door in his shirt sleeves and looked up at the roof, keeping his hand over his eyes to protect them from the bright sun.
“Bird,” he said, “how beautifully you sing!” Then he called into the house, “Wife, come out here for a second! There’s a bird up there. Just look. How beautifully he sings!” Then he called his daughter and her children, and the journeyman, apprentices, and maid. They all came running out into the street and looked at the bird and saw how beautiful he was. He had bright red and green feathers, and his neck appeared to glisten like pure gold, while his eyes sparkled in his head like stars.
“Bird,” said the shoemaker, “now sing me that song again.”
“No,” said the bird. “I never sing twice for nothing. You’ll have to give me a present.”
“Wife,” said the man, “go into the shop. There’s a pair of red shoes on the top shelf. Get them for me.”
His wife went and fetched the shoes.
“There,” said the man. “Now sing the song again.”
The bird swooped down, grasped the shoes in his left claw, flew back up on the roof, and sang:
“My mother, she killed me.
My father, he ate me.
My sister, Marlene, she made sure to see
my bones were gathered secretly,
bound nicely in silk, as neat as can be,
and laid beneath the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet! What a lovely bird I am!”
When the bird finished the song, he flew away. He had the chain in his right claw and the shoes in his left, and he flew far away to a mill. The mill went clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The miller had twenty men sitting in the mill, and they were hewing a stone. Their chisels went click-clack, click-clack, click-clack. And the mill kept going clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. The bird swooped down and landed on a linden tree outside the mill and sang:
“My mother, she killed me.”
Then one of the men stopped working.
“My father, he ate me.”
Then two more stopped and listened.
“My sister, Marlene, she made sure to see.”
Then four more stopped.
“My bones were gathered secretly,
bound nicely in silk, as neat as can be.”
Now only eight kept chiseling.
“And laid beneath . . .”
Now only five.
“. . . the juniper tree.”
Now only one.
“Tweet, tweet! What a lovely bird I am!”
Then the last one also stopped and listened to the final words.
“Bird, how beautifully you sing! Let me hear that, too. Sing your song again for me.”
“No,” said the bird. I never sing twice for nothing. Give me the millstone, and I’ll sing the song again.”
“I would if I could,” he said. “But the millstone doesn’t belong to me alone.”
“If he sings again,” said the others, “he can have it.”
Then the bird swooped down, and all twenty of the miller’s men took some wooden beams to lift the stone. “Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!” Then the bird stuck his neck through the hole, put the stone on like a collar, flew back to the tree, and sang:
“My mother, she killed me.
My father, he ate me.
My sister, Marlene, she made sure to see
my bones were gathered secretly,
bound nicely in silk, as neat as can be,
and laid beneath the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet “What a lovely bird I am!”
After the bird had finished his song, he spread his wings, and in his right claw he had the chain, in his left the shoes, and around his neck the millstone. Then he flew away to his father’s house.
The father, mother, and Marlene were sitting at the table in the parlor, and the father said, “Oh, how happy I am! I just feel so wonderful!
“Not me,” said the mother. “I feel scared as if a storm were about to erupt.”
Meanwhile, Marlene just sat there and kept weeping. Then the bird flew up, and when he landed on the roof, the father said, “Oh, I’m in such good spirits. The sun’s shining so brightly outside, and I feel as though I were going to see an old friend again.”
“Not me,” said his wife. “I’m so frightened that my teeth are chattering. I feel as if fire were running through my veins.”
She tore open her bodice, while Marlene sat in a corner and kept weeping. She had her handkerchief in front of her eyes and wept until it was completely soaked with her tears. The bird swooped down on the juniper tree, where he perched on a branch and began singing:
“My mother, she killed me.”
The mother stopped her ears, shut her eyes, and tried not to see or hear anything, but there was a roaring in her ears like a turbulent storm, and her eyes burned and flashed like lightning.
“My father, he ate me.”
“Oh, Mother,” said the man, “listen to that beautiful bird singing so gloriously! The sun’s so warm, and it smells like cinnamon.”
“My sister, Marlene, made sure to see.”
Then Marlene laid her head on her knees and wept and wept, but the man said, “I’m going outside. I must see the bird close up.”
“Oh, don’t go!” cried the wife. “I feel as if the whole house were shaking and about to go up in flames!”
Nevertheless, the man went out and looked at the bird.
“My bones were gathered secretly,
bound nicely in silk, as neat as can be,
and laid beneath the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet! What a lovely bird I am!”
After ending his song, the bird dropped the golden chain, and it fell around the man’s neck just right, so that it fit him perfectly. Then he went inside and said, “Look how lovely that bird is! He gave me this beautiful golden chain, and he’s just as beautiful as well!”
But the woman was petrified and fell to the floor. Her cap slipped off her head, and the bird sang again:
“My mother, she killed me.”
“Oh, I wish I were a thousand feet beneath the earth so I wouldn’t have to hear this!”
“My father, he ate me.”
Then the woman fell down again as if she were dead.
“My sister, Marlene, she made sure to see.”
“Oh,” said Marlene, I want to go outside, too, and see if the bird will give me something.”
Then she went out.
“My bones were gathered secretly,
bound nicely in silk, as neat as can be.”
All at once the bird threw her the shoes.
“And laid them beneath the juniper tree.
Tweet, tweet! What a lovely bird I am!”
Marlene felt cheerful and happy. She put on the new red shoes and danced and skipped back into the house.
“Oh,” she said, “I was so sad when I went out, and now I feel so cheerful. That certainly is a splendid bird. He gave me a pair of red shoes as a gift.”
“Not me,” said the wife, who jumped, and her hair flared up like red-hot flames. “I feel as if the world were coming to an end. Maybe I’d feel better if I went outside.”
As she went out the door, crash! The bird threw the millstone down on her head, and she was crushed to death.11) The father and Marlene heard the crash and went outside. Smoke, flames, and fire were rising from the spot, and when it was over, the little brother was standing there. He took his father and Marlene by the hand, and all three were very happy. Then they went into the house, sat down at the table, and ate.12
The specification of an era is unusual in fairy tales. The figure of two thousand years anchors the tale in biblical times and suggests a connection with the origins of Christianity. In light of the boy´s death and resurrection, the date has a special significance. ↩
This fairy tale, like so many others, begins with “lack” and moves to the liquidation of the lack, which in turn produces a new motor to the plot, in this case the death of the biological mother. Like many fairy-tale couples, this one is childless, and, rather than just wishing for a child, the two pray. Many couples make desperate wishes that lead to the birth of some type of animal – a hedgehog, for example, in the Grimms´ story “Hans my Hedgehog.” ↩
The apple reappears as the object of desire that leads to the boy´s death. Note also the connection with the apple that is used to tempt and poison Snow White. Suggestion to read: Initiation an Meaning in the tale of Snow White and the seven dwarves, N. J. Girardot, The Journal of American Folklore, vol. 90, no. 357 (Jul.-Sep., 1977) pp. 274-300. ↩
The story resembles “Snow White” in many ways, especially because its plot turns on the conflict between stepmother and child. But note that in this case it is a little boy whose lips are as red as blood and whose skin is as white as snow. Most versions of this particular tale type do not include the background story about the death of the biological mother. ↩
In the paragraph that follows, the parallels drawn between the seasons and the woman´s gestation period are elaborated in a mannered style more characteristic of fiction than of fairy tales. Runge was no doubt hoping to create a poetic effect with the descriptions of nature. ↩
Many historians have pointed out that the high rare rate of mortality in childbirth may have motivated the prominence of stepmothers in fairy tales. Like Cinderella and Snow White, the little boy in this story suffers under the cruel regime of his stepmother. ↩
The inheritance issue creates friction even today in many blended families. In “The Juniper Tree” anxiety about dividing the patrimony is spelled out as a key factor in motivating the stepmother´s hatred of the boy. ↩
The presence of the devil as a motivating force suggests that the teller of this tale was influenced by religious beliefs. Note that the stepmother´s duplicity is connected with a diabolical force that incarnates the spirit of division and divisiveness ↩
The stepmothers’ serving up of the boy in a stew is reminiscent of the Greek myth in which Atreus prepares a banquet for his enemy Thyestes, who unknowingly feasts on his own sons. Her deed is also reminiscent of dismemberment scenes in other fairy tales (most notably Perrault´s “Bluebeard” and Grimms´ “Fitcher´s Bird”). The powerful resurrection scene at the end forges a connection with the dismemberment of the Egyptian god Osiris as well as of the Greek poet Orpheus, who is torn to pieces by the maenads. ↩
The boy’s transformation resonates with the many mythological metamorphoses from human to bird (Procne and Philomela) but is also linked to the powerful role of birds in the Grimms´fairy tales. In “Cinderella”, to cite just one example, the heroine takes refuge in a dovecote, is helped with her chores by birds, and witnesses the blinding of her stepsister by doves. ↩
Many critics have associated the millstone that crushes the stepmother with a biblical millstone that drowns those who injure the young and the innocent: “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me; but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea” (Matthew 18:5-6 ↩
The trio at the end partakes of a meal, almost as if it were a sacrament, recalling the sacrilege of the stew served up to the father. Yet here the dining ritual renews and restores the new family. ↩