Free kindle book and epub digitized and proofread by Project Gutenberg. Annette von Droste-Hülshoff’s The Jew’s Beech (Die Judenbuche) is brilliantly constructed with apparent artlessness on a platform of paradoxes. It is a tale that . Die Judenbuche / The Jew’s Beech-Tree: German | English (German and English Edition) [Annette von Droste-Hülshoff, Lillie Winter] on *FREE*.

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She was sitting at her spinning-wheel again. The boy pulled himself together so hastily that his limbs got in the way, and his wood violin was within a hair’s breadth of falling into the fire. No accusation was necessary, for the Baron S.

Die Judenbuche by Annette von Droste-Hülshoff

He was just about to take refuge behind the bass viol again; but first one supreme effort – he drew out his silver watch, in dke days a rare and costly ornament.

Margaret beat her hands together, “God in Heaven, do not judge him! Terrible, terrible, without confession or absolution!

Englsih child looked up at her with the sad eyes of a half-grown dog learning tricks, and in his terror began to stamp his feet and rub his back against the wall. The man on the hill-side had fallen on his knees and judenbufhe with trembling voice to join in; but nothing came but loud sobs, and heavy, hot tears fell in the snow.

His fair hair went up and down a head above rnglish others, like a pike turning over and over in the water; all round were heard the shouts of the maidens he desired to honour by thrusting his long fair hair in their face with a quick movement of the head.

You let him herd the cows? You know me, and you understand me as well. I am juenbuche old and silly,” he added slowly. But when nothing was any use, and the judicial proceedings were declared closed, on the following morning there appeared at the castle a number of the most respected Jews to arrange a deal with the master.

The door was flung open and in rushed the wife of Aaron the Jew, white uudenbuche death, her hair hanging wildly round her, dripping with rain. Let us read the Gospel of St.

The wind had shifted and was now hissing like a snake through the cracks in the window into his ear. The impression which this encounter made on Frederick unfortunately was soon erased. A child had seen him sitting at the edge of Breder Wood, carving a spoon; “but he cut it right in two,” said the little girl. At this moment John Nobody entered the bedroom; thin and tall like a hop-pole, but ragged and frightened just as he had been five years before.


It seemed to him that judenbuchf moved in the separate moon-beams, and the trees swayed, first together and then apart. He and Friedrich disappear on the ehglish day. In the evening a procession of at least sixty Jews, their Rabbis at the head, all silent and with downcast eyes, was seen to make its way to Breder Wood. The result unfortunately showed that judenbhche had over-estimated her power.

I thought at first it was the toadstools! The clock in the church tower struck seven, and the cattle returned home; he was still not there, and she had to get up and look after her cows. Frederick gone, disappeared, and – John Eng,ish, the poor, unnoticed John – disappeared at the same time. By the afternoon no pane of glass in his windows remained intact, and late that night he was still lying across his doorstep, at intervals trying to lift a broken bottle to his lips, and cutting hands and face miserably in the attempt.

John shuddered at the remembrance, and the Baron judenbhche of the dead Kapp and his adventure on the Heerser Cliff. He turned brusquely away and strode towards the bushes.

Suddenly a lamp was brought in and two men came juddenbuche leading Margaret. She had had many heavy burdens to bear, her husband’s wicked treatment, still heavier his death, and it had been a bitter hour when she had had to give over the last piece of ground to a creditor as usufruct, and her plough stood idle before her door. Many asserted that at four o’clock they were busy at home or elsewhere, and they were all settled, trustworthy people. Frederick thought about the devil and wondered what he looked like.

The Jew’s Beech | work by Droste-Hülshoff |

He seemed to have something on his conscience. Both were silent awhile. Margaret rushed in and the clerk followed her. Frederick, don’t go with him, do you hear? But only for an instant. It was already getting light; the birds began to twitter and the dew to rise from the ground.

He was outwardly tidy, sober, and apparently faithful but cunning, boastful, and often brutal, a being in whom nobody could take pleasure, least of all his mother, and who yet, owing to his dreaded audacity and still more dreaded snglish, had won for himself a certain ascendancy in the village that was the more acknowledged as it grew more obvious that his real capabilities were not known.


There is a time for everything. Returning drunk in the night, he died of hypothermia during a judenbuchhe storm when Friedrich was nine years old. The woman went silently to the fire and added fresh fuel. Frederick was nine years old. It soon becomes clear, however, that the narrator is external to the characters, witnessing their actions and reporting what they say or do but not penetrating their minds to tell the reader of their thoughts or motivations.

His prayer-book must be lying on the sill in judenbufhe kitchen, and he hoped to find it by the help of the weak moonlight; it was not there. First there was a rustling and snapping above them; then high in the air a clapping sound like two sticks beaten together; then suddenly a piercing scream, and quite distinctly the words, “Alas, my poor soul!

Die Judenbuche – German Literature

Nevertheless dawn was beginning to appear before the watchmen had managed, as noiselessly as possible, to surround poor Margaret’s house. Then followed the meeting with Frederick. Although he had promised to return in the evening, Frau Mergel did not expect him, more especially as a heavy snowfall had begun at sunset.

He looked morosely out of the carriage. John threw another shy glance at Margaret, then slowly stretched out his hand until he held the proffered gift tight, and hid it under his wretched jacket.

The mode of narration adds another dimension to The Jew’s Beech. He had almost the look of a fiery man atoning for the theft of sacks; Frederick followed him, straight and tall for his age, with fine, almost noble features, and long fair hair which was in better order than was to be expected from the rest of his appearance; otherwise ragged, sunburnt, and with a sort of raw melancholy in his looks.

He heard her crying, and in between, “Ave Maria! True, ill luck had been to a certain extent the cause of all this; but there had been also a great deal of lack of organization and bad management.