Chapter XIV - The Man Without a Heart

There was once seven brothers, who had neither father nor mother. They lived together in one house, and had to do all the household work themselves, to wash, cook, sweep, and whatever else was to be done; for they had no sisters. Of this kind of housekeeping they soon grew tired, and one of them said: “Let us set out, and each of us get a wife.” This idea pleased the other brothers, and they made themselves ready for travelling, all excepting the youngest, who preferred to remain at home and keep house, his six brothers promising to bring him a wife with them. The brothers then set out, and all six went forth merrily in the wide world. They soon came into a large, wild forest, where, after wandering about for some time, they found a small house, at the door of which an old man was standing. On seeing the brothers passing by and appearing so gay, he called to them: “For what place are you bound that you pass my door so merrily?” “We are going each of us to fetch a handsome young bride,” answered they, “and therefore are we so merry. We are all brothers, but have left one at home, for whom we are also to bring a bride.” “I wish you then success in your undertaking,” replied the old man; “you see, however, very plainly that I am so lonely that I too have need of a wife, and so I advise you to bring me one also with you.” To this the brothers made no answer, but continued their way, thinking the old man spoke only in jest, and that he could have no occasion for a wife.

They soon arrived in a city, where they found seven young and handsome sisters, of whom each of the brothers chose one, and took the seventh with them for their youngest brother.

When they again arrived in the forest, there stood the old man at his door, apparently awaiting their coming. He even called to them at a distance: “Well, have you brought me a wife with you as I desired you?” “No,” answered them, “we could not find one for thee, old man; we have only brought brides for ourselves, and one for our youngest brother.” “You must leave her for me,” said the old man, “for you must keep to your promise.” This the brothers refused to do. The old man then took a little white staff from a shelf over the door, with which when he had touched the six brothers and their brides, they were all turned into gray stones. These, together with the staff, he laid on the shelf above the door, but kept the seventh young bride for himself.

The young woman had now to attend to all that was to be done in the house; and she did it all cheerfully, for what would resistance have availed her? She had, moreover, every comfort with him, the only thought that gave her uneasiness being that he might soon die; for what was she then to do alone in the great wild forest, and how was she to release her six poor enchanted sisters and their betrothed husbands? The longer she lived with him the more dreadful did this thought become; she wept and wailed the whole livelong day, and was incessantly crying’in the old man’s ear: “Thou art old, and mayest die suddenly, and what am I then to do? I shall be left alone here in this great forest.” The old man would then appear sad, and at length said: “Thou hast no cause to be uneasy; I cannot die, for I have no heart in my breast; but even if I should die, the twelve gray stones lie over the house-door, and with them a little white staff. If thou strikest the stones with that staff, thy sisters and their betrothed will again be living.” The young woman now appeared contented, and asked him, that as his heart was not in his breast, where he kept it. “My child,” answered the old man, “be not so inquisitive; thou canst not know everything.” But she never ceased her importunities, until he at last said somewhat peevishly, “Well, in order to make you easy, I tell thee that my heart lies in the coverlet.”

Now it was the old man’s custom to go every morning into the forest and not return till the evening, when his young housekeeper had to prepare supper for him. One evening on his return, finding his coverlet adorned with all kinds of beautiful feathers and flowers, he asked the young woman the meaning of it. “Oh, father,” answered she, “I sit here the whole day alone and can do nothing for thy gratification, and so thought I would do something for the delight of thy heart, which, as thou sayest, is in the coverlet!” “My child,” said the old man, laughing, “that was only a joke of mine; my heart is not in the coverlet, it is in a very different place.” She then began again to weep and lament, and said: “Thou hast then a heart in thy breast and canst die; what am I then to do, and how shall I recover my friends when thou art dead?” “I tell thee,” answered the old man, “that I cannot die, and have positively no heart in my breast; but even if I should die, which is not possible, there lie the gray stones over the door together with a little white stick, with which thou hast only, as I have already told thee, to strike the stones, and thou wilt have all thy friends again!” She then prayed and implored him so long to inform her where he kept his heart, that he at length said: “It is in the room-door.”

On the following day she decorated the room-door with variegated feathers and flowers from top to bottom, and when the old man came home in the evening and inquired the cause, she answered: “Oh, father, I sit here the whole day, and can do nothing for thy pleasure, and wished therefore to give some delight to thy heart.” But the old man answered as before: “My heart is not in the room-door; it is in a very different place.” Then, as on the previous day, she began to weep and implore, and said: “Thou hast then a heart and canst die; thou wilt only deceive me.” The old man answered: “Die I cannot; but as thou wilt positively know where my heart is, I will tell thee, that thou mayest be at ease. Far, very far, from here, in a wholly unknown solitary place, there is a large church; this church is well secured by thick iron doors; around it there runs a wide, deep moat; within the church there flies a bird, and in that bird is my heart. So long as that bird lives, I also live. Of itself it will not die, and no one can catch it. Hence I cannot die, and thou mayest be without apprehension.”

In the meantime the youngest brother had waited and waited at home; but as his brothers did not return, he supposed that some mishap had befallen them, and therefore set out in quest of them. After traveling for some days he arrived at the house of the old man. He was not at home, but the young woman, his bride, received him. He related to her how he had six brothers, who had all left home to get themselves wives, but that some mischance must have befallen them, as they had never returned. He had, therefore, set out in search of them. The young woman then instantly knew him for her bridegroom, and informed him who she was, and what had become of his brothers and their brides. Both were overjoyed at having thus met; she gave him to eat, and when he had recruited his strength he said: “Tell me now, my dear bride, how I can release my brothers.” She then related to him all about the old man, whose heart was not in his breast, but in a far distant church, of which she gave him every particular, according to the old man’s narrative. “I will at all events try,” said the young man, “whether I cannot get hold of the bird. It is true that the way is long and unknown to me, and the church is well secured; but by God’s help I may succeed.” “Do so,” said the young woman, “seek the bird; for as long as that lives thy brothers cannot be released. This night thou must hide thyself under the bedstead, that the old man may not find thee: to-morrow thou canst continue thy journey.” Accordingly he crept under the bed just before the old man’s return, and on the following morning, as soon as the old man was gone out, the young woman drew her bridegroom forth from his hiding-place, gave him a whole basketful of provisions, and after a tender farewell, he resumed his journey. He had proceeded a considerable way, when feeling hungry he sat down, placed his basket before him and opened it. While in the act of taking forth some bread and meat, he said: “Let come now every one that desires to eat with me!” At the instant there came a huge red ox, and said: “If thou didst say that every one should come that desires to eat with thee, I would gladly eat with thee.” “Very well,” said the young man, “I did say so, and thou shalt partake with me.” They then began to eat, and when they were satisfied, the red ox, when about to depart, said: “If at any time thou art in difficulty and re-quirest my aid, thou hast only to utter the wish, and I will come and help thee.” He then disappeared among the trees, and the young man recommenced his journey.

When he had proceeded a considerable way farther, he was again hungry, so sat down, opened his basket, and said as before: “Let those come that desire to eat with me!” In a moment there came from the thicket a large wild boar and said: “Thou hast said that whoever desired to eat with thee should come; now I would gladly eat with thee.” The bridegroom answered: “Thou art quite right, comrade; so just fall to.” When they had eaten, the boar said: “If thou art ever in difficulty and needest my aid, thou hast only to utter the wish, and I will help thee.” He then disappeared in the forest, and the young man pursued his journey.

On the third day, when about to eat, he said again:

“Let all that desire to eat with me come!” At the instant a rattling was heard among the trees and a large griffon descended and placed himself by the side of the traveller, saying: “If thou didst say that all who desired to eat with thee might come, I would gladly eat with thee.” “With all my heart,” answered the bridegroom; “’tis far more pleasant to eat in company than alone; so just fall to.” Both then began to eat. When their hunger was satisfied, the griffon said: “If ever thou art in difficulty, thou hast only to call me and I will aid thee.” He then disappeared in the air, and the young man went his way.

After travelling a while longer he perceived the church at a distance; so redoubling his pace, he was soon close by it. But now there was the moat in his way, which was too deep for him to wade through, and he could not swim. Now the red ox occurred to his recollection: “He could help thee,” thought he, “if he were to drink a green path through the water. Oh, that he were here!” Hardly had he expressed the wish when the red ox was there, laid himself on his knees and drank until there was a dry green path through the water. The young man now passed through the moat and stood before the church, the iron doors of which were so strong that he could not force one open, and the walls many feet thick, without an opening in any part. Knowing no other means, he endeavoured to break some stones, one by one out of the wall, and after great labour succeeded in extracting a few. It then occurred to him that the wild boar could help him, and he cried: “Oh, if the wild boar were here!” In an instant it came rushing up, and ran with such force against the wall, that in one moment a large hole was broken through it, and the young man entered the church. Here he saw the bird flying about. “Thou canst not catch it thyself,” thought he, “but if the griffon were here—!” Scarcely had he uttered the thought, when the griffon was there; but it cost even the griffon a great deal of trouble to catch the little bird; at last, however, he seized it, gave it into the young man’s hand and flew away. Overjoyed, he placed his prize in the basket, and set forth on his way back to the house in which his bride was.

When he reached the house and informed her that he had the bird in his basket, she was overjoyed, and said: “Now thou shalt first eat something in haste, and then creep again under the bed with the bird, so that the old man may know nothing of the matter.” This was done, and just as he had crept under the bed, the old man returned home, but felt ill and complained. The young woman then again began to weep, and said: “Ah, now father will die, that I can well see, and he has a heart in his breast!” “Ah, my child,” answered the old man, “be still only; I cannot die; it will soon pass over.” The bridegroom under the bed now gave the bird a little pinch, and the old man felt quite ill and sat down, and when the young man squeezed it yet harder, he fell to the earth in a swoon. The bride then cried out: “Squeeze it quite to death.” The young man did so, and the old man lay dead on the ground. The young woman then drew her bridegroom from under the bed, and afterwards went and took the stones and the little white staff from the shelf over the door, struck every stone with the staff, and in one instant there stood all her sisters and the brothers before her. “Now,” said she, “we will set out for home, and celebrate our marriage and be happy; for the old man is dead, and there is nothing more to fear from him.” They did so, and lived many years in harmony and happily together.