“The Golden Key”

I’ve always loved this very short story, “The Golden Key,” about a boy who must go out into the forest in winter to gather wood. Whenever I read it, I feel as cold as the boy does.

After the boy gathers wood, and before he pulls his sled home, he decides to light a fire because he is “so cold” (614). He “scrap [es] away the snow” (614) , finds a golden key, then, digging into the earth, an iron box. He discovers a lock in the iron box that the key fits. The story ends as the boy begins to turn the key, and the reader never learns what the box holds, whether it will provide treasure or something malicious, something the child will not want.

It doesn’t really matter what the box holds, though, for the story is about how badly the boy needs the “precious things” (614) he believes he will find. The story contains few details, but we can speculate that the boy’s father is working or, worse, is dead or sick. The boy is too young to be charged with the responsibility of collecting wood for his family. Also, he does not seem to possess warm enough clothes. The only adjectives used in relation to the boy are “poor” and “cold” (614).

When I read the story, I imagine an overcast sky and a low, pressing, assaulting wind, the kind that makes you think the world will always be cold. I see the boy pulling his sled across the snow towards the forest. He worries, I think, about his family, and he might wish that he had toys and money, that he could rest. His scarf and mittens are not warm enough. The wood takes a long time to gather, and he is alone as he does his work. The sky through the trees is like grey milk. After he has gathered the wood, and discovers the key and the iron box, he inserts the key in the lock and turns it because he wants what could be inside—what is supposed to be inside–riches, relief, power. He is young, so he is certain the box, even though it is iron, contains the treasure he needs. The golden key would have mesmerized me, too, but I am sure that there is nothing at all good in the box—the iron warns the adult. Likely, the boy is tricked by the golden key, its lovely promises.

He first digs into the snow so that he can find warmth. I wonder if in times of great cold and poverty, especially emotional cold and inner poverty, we are like the boy—pulled away from the warmth we actually need, distracted by the golden keys we find to people or places or things that could bring relief. But the worst that can happen, perhaps, is to become so mesmerized that we forget that we are cold.

Grimm, Jakob and Wilhelm. “The Golden Key”. Grimms’ Tales for Young and Old. The Complete Stories. Trans. Ralph Manheim. New York: Anchor Books, 1983. 614.