forge fire. A lively objection to being destroyed or maimed does
not make a man a coward: on the contrary, it is the beginning of
a brave man's wisdom. But in Mimmy, fear is not the effect of
danger: it is natural quality of him which no security can allay.
He is like many a poor newspaper editor, who dares not print the
truth, however simple, even when it is obvious to himself and all
his readers. Not that anything unpleasant would happen to him if
he did--not, indeed that he could fail to become a distinguished
and influential leader of opinion by fearlessly pursuing such a
course, but solely because he lives in a world of imaginary
terrors, rooted in a modest and gentlemanly mistrust of his own
strength and worth, and consequently of the value of his opinion.
Just so is Mimmy afraid of anything that can do him any good,
especially of the light and the fresh air. He is also convinced
that anybody who is not sufficiently steeped in fear to be
constantly on his guard, must perish immediately on his first
sally into the world. To preserve Siegfried for the enterprise to
which he has destined him he makes a grotesque attempt to teach
him fear. He appeals to his experience of the terrors of the
forest, of its dark places, of its threatening noises its
stealthy ambushes, its sinister flickering lights its
heart-tightening ecstasies of dread.

All this has no other effect than to fill Siegfried with wonder
and curiosity; for the forest is a place of delight for him. He
is as eager to experience Mimmy's terrors as a schoolboy to feel
what an electric shock is like. Then Mimmy has the happy idea of
describing Fafnir to him as a likely person to give him an
exemplary fright. Siegfried jumps at the idea, and, since Mimmy
cannot mend the sword for him, proposes to set to work then and