by Jacob Grimm
“Yes, Father, as you wish. If that’s all you ask, it’s easy enough to do.”
So at daybreak, the boy put the fifty pence in his pocket and set out on the highway, muttering to himself, “If only I knew fear! If only I knew fear!”
Then a man came along and heard what the boy said to himself, and after they’d walked for a while together and passed the gallows, the man said to him, “See over there, that’s the tree where seven men got hitched up to the ropemaker’s daughter and are now taking flying lessons – just sit yourself down there and wait for nightfall. You’ll learn fear all right!”
“If there’s nothing else to it,” replied the lad, “that’s simple enough. If I really learn fear so quickly, I’ll give you my fifty pence. Just come back tomorrow morning.”
So the boy went over to the gallows tree, sat down under it, and waited for night to fall. And since he felt chilly he lit himself a fire, but ’round about midnight the wind blew so cold even the fire couldn’t keep him warm. And when the wind blew so hard, it made the hanged men knock against one another. He thought to himself, If you’re freezing your behind off beside the fire, just imagine how cold and uncomfortable those fellas up there must be. And feeling sorry for them, he fetched a ladder, climbed up, and loosened the knot of one after another, taking all seven of them down. Whereupon he stoked the fire, blew on it, and set them around it so that they could warm themselves. But they just sat there and didn’t budge, and their clothes caught fire. And he said, “Better watch out, boys, or I’ll hang you back up.” But the dead took no heed. They kept still and let their rags burn. So the boy got angry and said, “If you won’t watch out for yourselves, there’s nothing I can do to help you. I don’t want to burn along with you.” And one after the other, he hung them back up. Then he sat back down beside his fire and fell asleep.
And in the morning the man came by and wanted his fifty pence, and he said, “So now do you know what fear is?”
“No,” the boy replied. “How was I supposed to learn it? Those fellas up there didn’t open their mouths, and they were so stupid they let the old rags they had on burn off their backs.”
The man saw that he was not going to get his fifty pence today, and he went off swearing, “Heaven help me, I’ve never seen such a piece of work.”
So the boy continued on his way and started muttering to himself again, “If only I knew fear! If only I knew fear!”
A carter came walking up behind him, heard him muttering, and asked, “Who are you?”
“I don’t know,” the boy replied.
Then the carter asked, “Where are you from?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s your father’s name?”
“I’m not supposed to say.”
“What do you keep muttering to yourself?”
“Oh,” the boy replied, “I want to learn fear, but nobody can teach it to me.”
“Stop talking nonsense,” the carter said. “Come along with me, I’ll look after you.”
So the boy went along with the carter, and that evening they came to an inn where they hoped to put up for the night. And once inside, the boy started muttering aloud to himself again, “If only I knew fear! If only I knew fear!”
Now the innkeeper heard it, laughed, and said, “If that’s your pleasure, we can surely oblige.”
“Pshaw!” said the innkeeper’s wife. “Many a daredevil already forfeited his life. It’d be a pity and a shame for the boy’s beautiful eyes if they never saw the light of day again.”
But the young man said, “However hard it might be, I want to learn it once and for all. That’s why I left home in the first place.” He would not let up until the innkeeper told him that not far away stood a castle with a curse on it, where a fella could very well learn what fear is if only he managed to spend three nights inside standing guard. The king had promised his daughter’s hand in marriage to anyone brave enough to try it, and she was said to be the most beautiful maiden the sun had ever shone on – and in the castle there was also a great treasure trove watched over by evil spirits, a treasure that would then be set free and was plentiful enough to make a poor man rich. Many had already tried their luck within, but not a single one ever came out again.
So the following morning, the boy went to the king and said, “By your leave, sire, I’d like to stand guard three nights in the cursed castle.”
The king looked him over, and because he liked his face, he said, “You can ask for three things, but they must be lifeless things, to take with you into the castle.”
To which the boy replied, “Then I ask for a fire, a lathe, and a carver’s bench with a carving knife.”
The king had everything the boy asked for taken to the castle by day. At twilight, the young man went in, lit himself a bright fire in an empty room, placed the lathe beside him, and sat down on the carver’s bench. “If only I knew fear,” he said aloud, “but I won’t learn it here either.”
At midnight he wanted to stoke his fire – but as he blew on it, there came a cry from the corner of the room: “Hell’s bells, we’re trembling with cold!”
“You fools,” cried the boy, “what are you crying about? If you’re cold you can sit by my fire and warm yourselves.”
No sooner had he said it than a pair of big black cats bounded out of the dark with a mighty leap and sat themselves down beside him, eyeing him with their fiery eyes. After a little while, once they had warmed themselves, they said, “Well, friend, what do you say we play a game of cards?”
“Why not?” the boy replied. “But first show me your paws.” So the cats extended their claws. “My,” he said, “what long nails you have! Permit me to pare them for you.” Whereupon he grabbed them by their necks, lifted them onto the lathe, and screwed down their paws. “I caught you red-handed,” he said, “and it made me lose my appetite for cards!” Then he killed them and tossed them out into the moat.
But no sooner had he laid those two to rest and prepared to plunk himself back down beside his fire than black cats and black dogs came flying out from all directions, ever more and more of them, so that he couldn’t ward them off – they whooped and howled something awful, stamped on his fire, pulling it apart, and tried to put it out. He looked on patiently for a while, but when things got out of hand he grabbed his carving knife and cried, “Get lost, you miserable lot!” and lunged at them. Some leapt aside, others he managed to kill and hurled their bodies out into the moat.
Upon his return he blew on the glowing embers, started his fire up again, and warmed himself. And as he sat there, his eyes wouldn’t stay open, and he had a hankering for sleep. So he looked around and saw a big bed in the corner. “That’s a sight for sore eyes,” he said and lay himself down. But no sooner did he shut his eyes than the bed set itself in motion and hightailed it all over the castle. “Let’s go then,” he said, “full speed ahead.” Then the bed rolled off as if it were drawn by six horses, through doorways and over steps, up and down – clippety-clop! – and all of a sudden it turned itself upside down, so that it was stacked like a mountain upon him. But he pried loose blankets and pillows, crawled out, and said, “Go fly off where you like, I’m tired,” then lay himself down beside the fire and slept until daybreak.
The next morning the king came by, and when he saw the boy lying there on the ground he thought the evil spirits had done him in and he was dead. So he said, “Such a shame, he was a lovely person!”
The boy heard it, sat himself upright, and said, “Not so fast!”
Now the king was stunned, but happy to see him stir, and asked him how things had gone.
“Very well, thank you,” the lad replied. “That’s one night down and two to go.” And when he went back to the innkeeper, the man could not believe his eyes.
“I never thought I’d see you again alive and kicking,” he said. “Did you learn what fear is?”
“No,” said the boy, “it’s all for naught – if only somebody could set me straight!�
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On the second night he returned to the old castle, sat himself down by the fire, and returned to muttering his old complaint: “If only I knew fear!” Come midnight a racket started up in the room, first softly, then louder and louder, then it was still again, and finally one half of a man came howling down the chimney and fell before him. “Hey there,” the boy cried, “there’s half of you missing.” Then the awful racket started up again, the raving and roaring, and the other half of the man fell down. “Wait,” said the boy, “let me first stoke the fire a little.” No sooner had he done so than the two halves came together, and a ghastly man took his seat on the bench. “That wasn’t the deal,” said the boy, “the bench is mine.” The man wanted to chase him away, but the boy would have none of it, gave him a mighty shove, and sat himself back down in his place. Then more men came tumbling down the chimney, one after the other; they gathered together nine bones and two skulls and started playing ninepins. The boy got a hankering to join in, and he said, “Can I play too?”
“Sure, if you’ve got the money to wager.”
“I’ve got plenty of money,” he replied, “but your balls aren’t round enough.” So he took the skulls, screwed them in his lathe, and pressed them into shape. “Now they’ll roll better,” he said, “up an’ at ’em! Now let’s have some fun!” He played along and lost some of his money, but at the strike of twelve everything disappeared before his eyes. He lay down and fell fast asleep.
The following morning the king came and inquired, “So how did it go this time?”
“I played ninepins,” the boy replied, “and lost a penny or two.”
“Weren’t you afraid?”
“Not on your life,” he said. “I had a ball. Oh, if only I knew fear.”
The third night he sat himself down again on his bench and grumbled, “If only I knew fear!” When it got late, six big men came in carrying a coffin. Then the boy said, “By God, that must be my cousin who died a few days ago,” waved his finger, and called out, “Come, little cousin, come!” The men set the coffin down on the ground and the boy went up to it and lifted the lid – a dead man lay stretched out in it. He felt his face, but it was cold as ice. “Just wait,” he said, “I’ll warm you up a little.” He went to the fire, warmed his hands, and lay them on the face, but the dead man remained cold. Then he took him out of the coffin, sat himself down beside the fire, lay him on his lap, and rubbed his arms to make the blood flow again. When that didn’t work, it occurred to him that when two people lie in bed together they warm each other, so he brought him to the bed, pulled the covers up, and lay himself down beside him. After a while the dead man got warmed up and started moving around. Then the boy said, “See, cousin, imagine if I hadn’t warmed you!”
Whereupon the dead man sat up and said, “Now I’m going to strangle you!”
“What?” said the boy. “Is that how you show your gratitude? Back in your box you go!” And he picked him up, flung him back into the coffin, and shut the lid. Then the six men came and carried him off again. “It’s just no use,” said the boy to himself. “I’m not going to learn fear here.”
Then a man came in, he was bigger than all the others and looked awful. He was old and had a long white beard. “You poor fool,” he cried out, “you’re about to learn fear, prepare to die!”
“Not so fast,” replied the boy. “If I’m to die, I have to be there to experience it.”
“I’ll see to that all right,” said the fiend.
“Keep your shirt on, mister, don’t puff up your chest. I’m at least as strong as you and a whole lot stronger.”
“We’ll see about that,” said the old man. “If you’re stronger than me, I’ll let you live. Come on, let’s give it a go.”
So he led him down dark corridors to a blacksmith’s fire, took an ax, and with a single blow sunk the anvil into the ground.
“That’s nothing,” said the boy and went over to the other anvil – the old man went over to watch with his white beard hanging down. Then the boy grabbed and swung the ax, split the anvil in a single blow, and managed to catch hold of the beard. “Now I’ve got you,” said the boy, “and it’s your turn to die.” So he grabbed an iron bar and struck the old man until he whimpered and whined and begged him to stop, promising him great riches if he did. The boy pulled back the ax and let him loose.
Then the old man led him back to the castle and took him to a cellar with three chests full of gold, and said, “One chest belongs to the poor, one to the king, and the third one is yours.”
At the stroke of midnight, the demon disappeared, and the boy found himself standing alone in the dark. “I’ll find my way out all right,” he said to himself, tapped around him, and found his way back to the room, where he fell asleep by the fire.
The next morning the king came by again and said, “So, have you finally learned fear?”
“No,” he replied. “What’s the big deal? My dead cousin dropped by, and so did a bearded old man, who took me down to the cellar and showed me a stash of gold, but nobody taught me what fear is.”
Then spoke the king, “You freed the castle from its curse and so will have my daughter as your bride.”
“That’s all well and good,” replied the boy, “but I still haven’t learned what fear is.”
So the gold was fetched and the wedding celebrated, but much as he loved his bride and glad as he was, the young king kept saying, “If only I knew fear, if only I knew fear.” Which finally made the princess mad.
Her chambermaid said, “Permit me to help, milady. I’ll teach him fear.” She went out to the brook that flowed through the castle garden and fished out a bucketful of goldfish. And while the young king slept, she bid his wife pull back the blanket and shower him with a bucket of cold water and goldfish so that the little fish wriggled all over him. Whereupon he awakened with a cry: “Jeepers creepers, honey! By God, now I know what fear is.”
THE DEVIL WITH THE THREE GOLDEN HAIRS
There once was a poor woman who gave birth to a little son, and because he came into the world with a caul it was foretold of him that at age fourteen he would wed the daughter of a king. It so happened, shortly thereafter, that the king came to visit the village, but nobody knew it was the king, and when he asked the people for the latest news, they replied, “A few days ago a child was born with a caul. Good luck will shine on all his undertakings. It was foretold of him that in his fourteenth year he will take the king’s daughter to wife.”
The king, who had an evil heart and was displeased by the prophecy, went to the parents, pretending to be well-intentioned, and said, “You poor people, permit me to adopt your child, I will provide for all his needs.” At first they hesitated, but seeing as the stranger offered them hard cash, they thought, Ours is a good-luck child, it must be for the best. They finally agreed and gave him the boy.
The king put the boy in a box and rode away with it, until he came to a deep body of water; then he tossed the box in and thought, I’ve saved my daughter from this unexpected suitor. But the box did not go under, it floated like a little boat, and not a drop of water leaked in. It floated to within two miles of the king’s capital where it got stuck on the dam of a mill. A mill hand who fortunately happened to be present and noticed the box, pulled it out of the water with a long hook and thought he would find great riches, but when he opened the box, there inside lay a beautiful boy, bubbling with joy. He brought the boy back to the miller and his wife, and because they had no children they were overjoyed and said, “God blessed us with this boy.” They took good care of the foundling and fed him well, and he grew up to be a fine and handsome lad.
It came to pass that the king once stopped at the mill during a thunderstorm and asked the miller and his wife if the tall, handsome lad was their son. “No,” they replied, “he’s a foundling. Fourteen years ago he came floating up in a box and a mill hand pulled him out of the water.” Then the king realized that it was none other than the good-luck child whom he had t
ossed into the water, and said, “Good people, might the boy take a message back to the queen? I’ll give him three gold pieces in payment.”
“The king’s wish is our command,” they replied, and told the lad to get ready.
Whereupon the king wrote a letter to the queen that said, “As soon as the boy arrives bearing this letter, he is to be killed and buried, and all this must happen before I get back.”
The boy set out with this letter in hand but got lost along the way and, come evening, arrived in a great forest. In the darkness he saw a little light, and drawing near, he came to a little house. He entered and found an old woman seated all alone by the fire. Frightened, she said, “Where do you come from and where are you going?”
“I come from the mill,” he replied, “and am going to the queen to bring her a letter – but seeing as I got lost in the woods, I was wondering if I could spend the night here.”
“You poor boy,” said the woman, “this is a den of thieves, and if they find you here when they get home they will kill you.”
“Come what may,” said the boy, “I’m not afraid, but I’m so tired I can’t walk another step,” whereupon he lay himself down on a bench and fell fast asleep.
Not long thereafter the robbers got home and asked in a rage what this strange boy was doing lying there.
“Oh,” said the old woman, “he’s just an innocent child who got lost in the woods, and I took him in out of pity – he is on his way to the queen to bring her a letter.”
The robbers opened the letter and read that as soon as he reached the palace, the boy bearing this letter was to be killed. Now the hard-hearted robbers took pity on the boy, and their leader tore up the letter and drafted another, in which it said that as soon as the boy arrived he was immediately to be married to the princess. They then let him sleep peacefully on the bench until morning, and when he awakened, they gave him the letter and showed him the right way to the royal residence. As soon as the queen opened and read the letter, she did what it said. She threw a sumptuous wedding feast, and the princess was married to the good-luck child; and since the youth was handsome and kind, she was glad and lived happily with him.