Room 1

Come in, ladies and gentlemen, dear children! “The Cold Heart”, the magical and scary fairy tale from the Black Forest, is presented here. It was written by the Swabian poet Wilhelm Hauff, who lived here in the North of the Black Forest 200 years ago and who died at the blooming age of only 26 years.
The people living in the North of the Black Forest, the natives of Baden and the Württembergers, did not like each other. Their customs and their traditions were just too different.
The natives of Baden mainly produced glass, clocks and watches. The Württembergers, however, floated the wood felled in the forest down the rivers to the sea, to Holland.
At that time ghosts were said to be roaming in the North of the Black Forest – good ones and bad ones. The little Glassman, for example, was a good spirit.
On the other end of the forest the Hollander-Michael was said to hang around.
In our story “The Cold Heart” Peter Munk, a charcoal burner, is the leading character.
Then there is the raven, the faithful friend of the lonely Peter; there is Lizzie, the lovely daughter of a poor woodcutter, Ezekiel, a fat, rich and cold-hearted timber merchant, the tall Schlurker, who was as tall as he was daring, and the King of the dance floor, who was as cold-hearted, rich and famous as Ezekiel and Schlurker.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, dear children, the play starts. Follow the light and go into the fairy tale “The Cold Heart”. Be enchanted and scared!

Room 2

To turn wood into charcoal takes a long time. Day after day. Week after week. Year after year. Peter was unhappy. He had already been fed up with charcoal burning for quite a while. Charcoal burners were lonely and poor. But Peter dreamed of being rich, famous and respected by the people.
Rich and famous like the fat Ezekiel because he always had such a lot of guilders on him.
Rich and famous like the daring and tall Schlurker because no one dared to be cheeky to him. Rich and famous like the smart King of the dance floor, because he fascinated the ladies with his dancing legs.
These three persons were incredibly miserly and cold-hearted and therefore were hated by many people. And still Peter turned green with envy when he thought of them.
Then Charcoal-Peter remembered a story from his childhood. It was about people becoming extremely rich all at once with the help of the Hollander-Michael and the little Glassman.
Only a child born on a Sunday could lure out the little Glassman. And Charcoal-Peter had been born on a Sunday. Unfortunately, he had a bad memory. The last verse of the magic spell with which you can attract the little Glassman did not come to his mind. Peter wanted to give it a try anyway. He set out to the “Fir-Tree-Hill” in the middle of the forest.
“Treasurer in the forest cold / many centuries thou art old / art the owner of every tree …” Oh no! Peter did not remember the last verse of the magic spell and the little Glassman did not show his face.
Peter Munk went deeper into the forest. It became dark and darker, and to make matters worse, there was a thunderstorm. Nearly despairing and soaking wet Peter searched for shelter.

Room 3

Charcoal-Peter found some shelter with a family of woodcutters and rafters. These people offered him accommodation; and the grandfather told some stories.
Hollander-Michael was an awfully strong and tall fellow felling trees and rafting tree-trunks down the rivers, just as if they were matches.
He was also clever and he wanted to become rich. Craving for riches he pesuaded the other rafters to float the tree trunks not just to Cologne but on to Amsterdam. “This way you can easily make a lot of money”, said Michael. Even more than expected as it turned out when Michael and the other rafters sold their huge tree trunks in Holland.
So Michael became the Hollander-Michael and an incredibly rich person. Everywhere he was feared because of his cold-hearted and malicious character. As an evil spirit he haunts the forest to this very day and seduces the people with his money. “Stay away from him!“ said the grandfather to Charcoal-Peter.
Peter did not sleep well that night. Ghosts appeared to him in his dream and a soft voice whispered to him: “Silly Charcoal-Peter, you cannot find a rhyme for ‘tree’ although you were born on a Sunday. Rhyme, silly Peter, rhyme.”
All of a sudden Peter woke up and the scales fell from his eyes. And once again, with a cheerful heart, he set out to the “Fir-Tree-Hill”.
Hollander-Michael: “You want to become rich? I can help you there!”
Peter’s heart nearly stopped beating, but he remembered the grandfather’s warning and escaped immediately. The Hollander-Michael screamed, raged, shouted and was hot on Peter’s tail. After a daring jump over a ditch Peter was safe – for the time being.
He breathed deeply and then spoke the complete rhyme: “Treasurer in the forest cold / many centuries thou art old / art the owner of every tree / as Sunday child I can see thee.”
“I grant you three wishes, but if the first two are unreasonable, I am going to deny you the third one.” Peter pondered for a long time. “Firstly, I would like to have as much money in my pockets as the fat Ezekiel and secondly, I would like to have the most beautiful and richest glassworks in the whole of the Black Forest...” “Stop! Stop! I refuse to grant you a third wish just now! One day you may be happy to have such a wish left!”

Room 4

The little Glassman had not promised too much. Peter’s wishes came true. He prospered. Now, he was the proud owner of the most beautiful and richest glassworks in the North of the Black Forest and he had a fat purse.
And yet Peter soon became tired of the work in the glassworks. He spent most of his time in the pub gambling away his money with the tall Schlurker and the King of the dance floor all night long.
One evening Peter managed to win all the guilders of the fat Ezekiel in the game. Ezekiel was broke. And so was Peter, because now he had just as much as him; not even not a dreg.
Peter was shattered and ruined. “If the little Glassman does not want to help me, the Hollander-Michael has to help me now!”
“Give me your heart and I will give you the money. A lot of money! A hundred thousand hard guilders!”
His own, lively, beating heart: that was the price Peter had to pay. The Hollander-Michael would give him a heart out of stone instead.
Peter’s breath was taken away: in rank and file, there were all the bloody and beating hearts of all the people who had swapped their own hearts for stony ones. He could see the beating heart of the fat Ezekiel, for example, the bloody heart of the tall Schlurker and the pounding heart of the King of the dance floor.
Heart for money. Money for stone. Heart or money…yes! – Money.
Peter Munk sank into a deep sleep. His heart did not pound any longer. This was too much even for the raven, the faithful friend. He left the heartless Peter.

Room 5

Peter was rich now. But not just rich – he was filthy rich – and heartless. He calculated brutally, unscrupulously. Peter traded in corn, lent money with shamelessly inflated interest rates, made the poor drudge for him and he kept all the money. Many people were in his debt. Beggars knocked on the door of his stately home. Peter’s stony heart, however, did not soften.
Meanwhile, Peter had got married, a wife at his side suited the filthy rich businessman well. Peter had chosen the beautiful Lizzie – a poor woodcutter’s daughter.
One day, a poor, little, old man came staggering to the house and could hardly stand because of hunger. Peter was not at home. Lizzie took pity on the old man; she gave him some wine and bread. “Such a heart will not go unrewarded!”, the beggar exclaimed gratefully.
“Yes, she shall get her reward at once! Here! Here! Here! Take your reward!”, Peter shouted almost out of his senses and he lashed so violently at Lizzie with his whip that she sank to the floor lifeless.
That was when the beggar revealed himself as the little Glassman. “You worm, I could crush you to pieces! But for your wife’s sake I will give you one last opportunity. You have eight days to manage to get yourself a warmer heart.”
“Get a warmer heart … – get a warmer heart … – get a warmer heart …”
Over and over again the words of the little Glassman went through Peter’s head, until he finally pulled himself together, calling out once again to the good spirit. “Dear little Glassman, I have still got one wish left – a reasonable one! Please, take out the dead stone and give me back my lively heart!”
Indeed, this was no unreasonable wish. The little Glassman promised to help Peter. The Hollander – Michael, though, could not be defeated by violence – but only by a trick – and by a cross made of pure glass.
And Peter went down into the land of the shadows – deep down under the earth. Then Peter tried to outwit the Hollander – Michael.
“I don’t have a stony heart at all in my chest! You simply faked the swap!!” The evil spirit wouldn’t be treated like that. Quickly, he reinserted Peter’s lively heart in order to prove that he was actually capable of replacing human hearts with stones.
That was the opportunity! Peter pulled out his cross of glass and held it out towards the Hollander – Michael. The Hollander – Michael screamed like a stuck pig and he became smaller and smaller – and so, in the end, he withered away like a feeble fart.
Peter had his real, warm, lively heart back – and how it was pounding! Tock! Tock! Tock! Firstly, from delight, then from horror because Peter Munk realised for the first time what he had done. He had pushed debtors into misery, he had denied the poor the last penny, he had set his dogs on invalids and he had slain his good wife Lizzie because of avarice.
Yet, the little Glassman would not have been the little Glassman if he hadn’t had his fingers in the pie. In his infinite kindness, the little Glassman made it possible for Lizzie and Peter to come together again.

Room 6

Peter’s homecoming to the human hearts was then celebrated accordingly. All of them were present at the festival: the rafters and the glass manufacturers, the woodcutters and the clockmakers. They ate, drank, danced and sang far into the night. The raven, having returned to Peter, crowed brightly.
Now Peter Munk practised his craft, charcoal burning, with pleasure. And that is why he became rich and famous by his own hand, and not by a heart that was as cold and hard as a stone.
Ladies and gentlemen, dear children, that was the story of “The Cold Heart”.
Highly esteemed audience, pass on this story and its moral into the world: It is better to be content with little than to be filthy rich with a heart of stone.