Grimm's Household Tales

A rich farmer was standing in his yard one day, inspecting his fields and gardens. The grain was growing vigorously, and the fruit trees were heavily laden with fruit. Last year’s grain still lay in such immense heaps on the floors that the rafters could hardly bear the weight. Then he went into the stable, where there were well-fed oxen, fat cows, and horses with coats as bright as mirrors. At last he went back into his sitting room and cast a glance at the iron chest in which his money lay.

While he was standing there, surveying his riches, all at once there was a loud knock close by him. The knock was not at the door of his room but at the door of his heart. It opened, and he heard a voice that said to him, “Have you done good to your family with your riches? Have you considered the needs of the poor? Have you shared your bread with the hungry? Have you been content with what you have, or did you always desire to have more?” The heart was not slow in answering, “I have been hard and pitiless, and I have never shown any kindness to my own family. If a beggar came, I turned my eyes away from him. I have not troubled myself about God, but have thought only of increasing my wealth. If everything that the sky covers had been my own, I would still not have had enough.”

When he became aware of this answer, he was greatly alarmed; his knees began to tremble, and he was forced to sit down.

Then there was another knock, but this knock was at the door of his room. It was his neighbor, a poor man who had a number of children whom he could no longer satisfy with food. “I know,” thought the poor man, “that my neighbor is rich, but he is as hard as he is rich. I don’t believe he will help me, but my children are crying for bread, so I will risk it.” He said to the rich man, “You do not readily give away anything that is yours, but I stand here like one who feels the water rising above his head. My children are starving. Lend me four measures of grain.” The rich man looked at him for a long time, and then the first sunbeam of mercy began to melt away a drop of the ice of greed. “I will not lend you four measures,” he answered, “but I will make you a present of eight. You must, however, fulfill one condition.” “What am I to do?” said the poor man. “When I am dead, you must watch for three nights by my grave.” The peasant was troubled in his mind by this request, but in the need he was in, he would have consented to anything. He accepted, therefore, and carried the grain home with him.

It seemed as if the rich man had foreseen what was about to happen, for when three days had gone by, he suddenly dropped dead. No one knew exactly how it had come about, but no one grieved for him. When he was buried, the poor man remembered his promise. He would willingly have been released from it, but he thought, “After all, he acted kindly toward me. I have fed my hungry children with his grain, and even if that were not the case, once I have given my promise, I must keep it.” At nightfall he went into the churchyard and seated himself on the grave mound. Everything was quiet. Only the moon appeared above the grave, and frequently an owl flew past and uttered her melancholy cry. When the sun rose, the poor man went home safely, and the second night passed quietly by in the same way. On the evening of the third day he felt a strange uneasiness; it seemed to him that something was about to happen. When he went out, he saw, by the churchyard wall, a man whom he had never seen before. The stranger was no longer young and had scars on his face, and his eyes looked sharply and eagerly around. He was entirely covered with an old cloak, and nothing was visible but his great riding boots. “What are you looking for here?” the peasant asked. “Are you not afraid of the lonely churchyard?”

“I am looking for nothing,” the stranger answered, “and I am afraid of nothing! I am like the youngster who set out to learn how to shiver and got nothing for his trouble, but won the king’s daughter for his wife and great wealth with her—only I have remained poor. I am nothing but a discharged soldier, and I mean to spend the night here because I have no other shelter.” “If you are without fear,” said the peasant, “stay with me and help me to watch that grave there.”

“To keep watch is a soldier’s business,” the soldier replied. “Whatever we meet with here, whether it is good or bad, we will share between us.” The peasant agreed to this, and they sat down on the grave together.

All was quiet until midnight, when suddenly a shrill whistling was heard in the air, and the two watchers saw the Evil One standing before them in person. “Be off, you ragamuffins!” he cried to them. “The man who lies in that grave belongs to me. I want to take him, and if you don’t go away, I will wring your necks!” “Sir with the red feather,” said the soldier, “you are not my captain, and I have no need to obey you. I have not yet learned how to fear. Go away; we will stay sitting here.”

The Devil thought to himself, “Money is the best means of getting hold of these two vagabonds.” So he began to play a softer tune and asked quite kindly whether they would not accept a bag of money and go home with it. “That is worth listening to,” answered the soldier, “but one bag of gold won’t do for us. If you will give as much as will go into one of my boots, we will leave the field to you and go away.”

“I do not have that much on me,” said the Devil, “but I will fetch it. In the neighboring town lives a money changer who is a good friend of mine and will readily advance it to me.” When the Devil had vanished, the soldier took his left boot off and said, “We will soon pull the charcoal burner’s nose for him. Just give me your knife, comrade.” He cut the sole off the boot and set the boot in the high grass near the grave, on the edge of a hole that was half overgrown. “That will do,” he said. “Now the chimney sweep may come.”

They both sat down and waited, and it was not long before the Devil returned with a small bag of gold in his hand. “Just pour it in,” said the soldier, raising the boot a little, “but that won’t be enough.”

The Black One shook out all that was in the bag; the gold fell through, and the boot remained empty. “Stupid Devil,” cried the soldier, “it won’t do! Didn’t I say so at once? Go back again and bring more.” The Devil shook his head, went away, and in an hour’s time came back with a much larger bag under his arm. “Now pour it in,” cried the soldier, “but I don’t think the boot will be full.” The gold clinked as it fell, but the boot remained empty. The Devil looked into it himself with his burning eyes and convinced himself of the truth. “You have shamefully big calves on your legs!” he cried, and made a wry face. “Did you think,” replied the soldier, “that I had a cloven foot like you? Since when have you been so stingy? See that you get more gold together, or our bargain will come to nothing!” The Wicked One went off again. This time he stayed away longer, and when at last he appeared, he was panting under the weight of a sack that lay on his shoulders. He emptied it into the boot, which was just as far from being filled as before. He became furious and was just about to tear the boot out of the soldier’s hands, but at that moment the first ray of the rising sun burst out of the sky, and the Evil Spirit fled away with loud shrieks. The poor soul was saved.

The peasant wished to divide the gold, but the soldier said, “Give what falls to my share to the poor. I will come with you to your cottage, and together we will live in rest and peace on what remains, as long as God is pleased to permit.”