the kitchen. One, a kabouter, dark and ugly, had a box of tools. The
other, a light-faced elf, seemed to be the guide. The kabouter at once
got out his saw, hatchet, auger, long, chisel-like knife, and smoothing
plane. At first, the two elves seemed to be quarrelling, as to who
should be boss. Then they settled down quietly to work. The kabouter
took the wood and shaped it on the outside. Then he hollowed out, from
inside of it, a pair of shoes, which the elf smoothed and polished. Then
one elf put his little feet in them and tried to dance, but he only
slipped on the smooth floor and flattened his nose; but the other fellow
pulled the nose straight again, so it was all right. They waltzed
together upon the wooden shoes, then took them off, jumped out the
window, and ran away.
When Van Eyck put the wooden shoes on, he found that out in the fields,
in the mud, and on the soft soil, and in sloppy places, this sort of
foot gear was just the thing. They did not sink in the mud and the man's
feet were comfortable, even after hours of labor. They did not "draw"
his feet, and they kept out the water far better than leather possibly
could.
When the Van Eyck vrouw and the children saw how happy Daddy was, they
each one wanted a pair. Then they asked him what he called them.
"Klompen," said he, in good Dutch, and klompen, or klomps, they are to
this day.
"I'll make a fortune out of this," said Van Eyck. "I'll set up a
klomp-winkel (shop for wooden shoes) at once."
So, going out to the blacksmith's shop, in the village, he had the man
who pounded iron fashion for him on his anvil, a set of tools, exactly
like those used by the kabouter and the elf, which he had seen in his
dream. Then he hung out a sign, marked "Wooden blocks for shoes." He
made klomps for the little folks just out of the nursery, for boys and
girls, for grown men and women, and for all who walked out-of-doors, in
the street or on the fields.
Soon klomps came to be the fashion in all the country places. It was
good manners, when you went into a house, to take off your wooden shoes
and leave them at the door. Even in the towns and cities, ladies wore
wooden slippers, especially when walking or working in the garden.
Klomps also set the fashion for soft, warm socks, and stockings made
from sheep's wool. Soon, a thousand needles were clicking, to put a soft
cushion between one's soles and toes and the wood. Women knitted, even
while they walked to market, or gossiped on the streets. The
klomp-winkels, or shops of the shoe carpenters, were seen in every
village.
When rich beyond his day-dreams, Van Eyck had another joyful night
vision. The next day, he wore a smiling countenance. Everybody, who met
him on the street, saluted him and asked, in a neighborly way:
"Good-morning, Mynheer Bly-moe-dig (Mr. Cheerful). How do you sail
to-day?"
That's the way the Dutch talk--not "how do you do," but, in their watery
country, it is this, "How do you sail?" or else, "Hoe gat het u al?"
(How goes it with you, already?)
Then Van Eyck told his dream. It was this: The Moss Maiden and Trintje,
the wood elf, came to him again at night and danced. They were lively
and happy.
"What now?" asked the dreamer, smilingly, of his two visitors.
[Illustration: The kabouter took the wood and shaped it on the inside.]
He had hardly got the question out of his mouth, when in walked a
kabouter, all smutty with blacksmith work. In one hand, he grasped his
tool box. In the other, he held a curious looking machine. It was a big
lump of iron, set in a frame, with ropes to pull it up and let it fall
down with a thump.
"What is it?" asked Van Eyck.
"It's a Hey" (a pile driver), said the kabouter, showing him how to use
it. "When men say to you, on the street, to-morrow, 'How do you sail?'
laugh at them," said the Moss Maiden, herself laughing.
"Yes, and now you can tell the people how to build cities, with mighty
churches with lofty towers, and with high houses like those in other
lands. Take the trees, trim the branches off, sharpen the tops, turn
them upside down and pound them deep in the ground. Did not the ancient
oak promise that the trees would be turned upside down for you? Did they
not say you could walk on top of them?"
By this time, Van Eyck had asked so many questions, and kept the elves
so long, that the Moss Maiden peeped anxiously through the window.
Seeing the day breaking, she and Trintje and the kabouter flew away, so
as not to be petrified by the sunrise.
"I'll make another fortune out of this, also," said the happy man, who,
next morning, was saluted as Mynheer Blyd-schap (Mr. Joyful).
At once, Van Eyck set up a factory for making pile drivers. Sending men
into the woods, who chose the tall, straight trees, he had their
branches cut off. Then he sharpened the trunks at one end, and these
were driven, by the pile driver, down, far and deep, into the ground. So
a foundation, as good as stone, was made in the soft and spongy soil,
and well built houses uprose by the thousands. Even the lofty walls of
churches stood firm. The spires were unshaken in the storm.
Old Holland had not fertile soil like France, or vast flocks of sheep,
producing wool, like England, or armies of weavers, as in the Belgic
lands. Yet, soon there rose large cities, with splendid mansions and
town halls. As high towards heaven as the cathedrals and towers in other
lands, which had rock for foundation, her brick churches rose in the
air. On top of the forest trees, driven deep into the sand and clay,
dams and dykes were built, that kept out the ocean. So, instead of the
old two thousand square miles, there were, in the realm, in the course
of years, twelve thousand, rich in green fields and cattle. Then, for
all the boys and girls that travel in this land of quaint customs,
Holland was a delight.
THE CURLY-TAILED LION
Once upon a time, some Dutch hunters went to Africa, hoping to capture a
whole family of lions. In this they succeeded. With a pack of hounds and
plenty of aborigines to poke the jungle with sticks, they drove a big
male lion, with his wife and four whelps, out of the undergrowth into a
circle. In the centre, they had dug a pit and covered it over with
sticks and grass. Into this, the whole lion family tumbled. Then, by
nets and ropes, the big, fierce creatures and the little cubs were
lifted out. They were put in cages and brought to Holland. The baby
lions, no bigger than pug dogs, were as pretty and harmless as kittens.
The sailors delighted to play with them.
Now lions, even before one was ever seen among the Dutch, enjoyed a
great reputation for strength, courage, dignity and power. It was
believed that they had all the traits of character supposed to belong to
kings, and which boys like to possess. Many fathers had named their sons
Leo, which is Latin for lion. Dutch daddies had their baby boys
christened with the name of Leeuw, which is their word for the king of
beasts.
Before lions were brought from the hot countries into colder lands, the
bear and wolf were most admired; because, besides possessing plenty of
fur, as well as great claws and terrible teeth, they had great courage.
For these reasons, many royal and common folks had taken the wolf and
bear as namesakes for their hopeful sons.
But the male lion could make more noise than wolves, for he could roar,
while they could only howl. He had a shaggy mane and a very long tail.
This had a nail at the end, for scratching and combing out his hair,
when tangled up. If he were angry, the mighty brute could stick out his
red tongue, curled like a pump handle, and nearly half a yard long.
So the lion was called the king of beasts, and the crowned rulers and
knights took him as their emblem. They had pictures of the huge creature
painted on their flags, shields and armor. Sometimes they stuck a gold
or brass lion on their iron war hats, which they called helmets. No
knight was allowed to have more than one lion on his shield, but kings
might have three or four, or even a whole menagerie of meat-eating
creatures. These painted or sculptured lions were in all sorts of
action, running, walking, standing up and looking behind or before.
Now there was a Dutch artist, who noticed what funny fellows kings were,
and how they liked to have all sorts of beasts and birds of prey, and
sea creatures that devour, on their banners. There were dragons,
two-headed eagles, boars with tusks, serpents with fangs, hawks,
griffins, wyverns, lions, dragons and dragon-lions, besides horses with
wings, mermaids with scaly tails, and even night mares that went flying
through the dark. With such a funny variety of beast, bird, and fish,
some wondered why there were not cows with two tails, cats with two
noses, rams with four horns, and creatures that were half veal and half
mutton. He noticed that kings did not care much for tame, quiet,
peaceable, or useful creatures, such as oxen or horses, doves or sheep;
but only for those brutes that hunt and kill the more defenceless
creatures.
Since, then, kings of the country must have a lion, the artist resolved
to make a new one. He would have some fun, at any rate.
So as painter or sculptor select men and women to pose for them in their
study as their heroes and heroines, and just as they picture plump
little boys and girls as cherubs and angels, so the Dutchman would make
of the cubs and the father beast of prey his models for coats of arms.
Poor lions! They did not know, but they soon found out how tiresome it
was to pose. They must hold their paws up, down, sideways or behind,
according as they were told. They must stand or kneel, for a long time,
in awkward positions. They must stick out their tongues to full length,
walk on their hind legs, twist their necks, to one side or the other,
look forward or backward, and in many tiresome ways do just as they were
ordered. They must also make of their tails every sort of use, whether
to wrap around posts or bundles, to stick out of their cage, or put
between their legs, as they ran away, or to whisk them around, as they
roared; or hoist them up high when rampant.
In some cases, they were expected, even, to put on spectacles, and
pretend to be reading, to hold in their paws books and scrolls, or town
arms, or shop signs. They must pose, not only as companions of Daniel,
in the lions' den at Babylon, which was proper; but also to sit, as
companion of St. Mark, and even to stand on their legs on the top of a
high column, without falling off.
In a word, this artist belonged to the college of heralds, and he
introduced the king of beasts into Dutch heraldry.
So from that day forth, the life of that family of African lions, from
the daddy to the youngest cub, was made a burden. When at home in the
jungle and even in the cage, the father lion's favorite position was
that of lolling on one side, with his paws stretched out, and half
asleep and all day, until he went out, towards dark, to hunt. Now, he
must stand up, nearly all day. Daddy lion had to do most of the posing,
until the poor beast's front legs and paws were weary with standing so
long. Moreover, the hair was all worn off his body at the place where he
had to sit on the hard wooden floor. He must do all this, on penalty of
being punched with a red hot poker, if he refused. A charcoal furnace
and long andirons were kept near by, and these were attended to by a
Dutch boy. Or, it might be that the whole family of lions were not
allowed to have any dinner till Daddy obeyed and did what he was told,
though often with a snarl or a roar.
First, Leo must rise upon his hind legs and look in front of him. This
posture was not hard, for in his native jungle, he had often thus
obtained a breakfast of venison for his wife and family. But oh, to
stand a half hour on two legs only, when he had four, and would gladly
have used all of them, was hard. Yet this was the position, called "the
lion rampant," which kings liked best.
But the king's uncles, nephews, nieces, cousins, and his wife's
relations generally, every one of them, wanted a lion on his or her
stationery and pocket handkerchiefs, as well as on their shields and
flags. So the old lion was tortured--the hot poker being always in
sight--and he was made to take a great variety of positions. The artist
called out to Leo, just as a driver says to his cart horse, "whoa," "get
up," "golong," etc. When he yelled in this fashion, the lion had to
obey.
Pretty soon lions in heraldry, on flags, armor, town arms, family crests
and city seals became all the fashion. The whole country went lion-mad.
There were lions carved in stone, wood and iron, and every sort and
kind, possible or impossible. Some of them seemed to be engaged in a
variety of tricks, as if they belonged to a circus, or were having a
holiday. They laughed, giggled, yawned, stuck out their tongues, held
boards for hotels, bundles for the shopkeepers, or barrels for beer
halls, and made excellent shop signs, which the boys and girls enjoyed
looking at.
Mrs. Leo was not in much demand, for Mr. Leo did not approve of his
wife's appearing in public. She was kept busy in taking care of her
cubs. Daddy Lion had to do multiple work for his family, until the cubs
were grown. Yet long before this time had come, their Dad had died and
been stuffed for a museum. How this first king of beasts in the
Netherlands came to his untimely end was on this wise.
Not satisfied with posing Leo in every posture, and with all possible
gestures, his master, the artist, wanted him to look "heraldical"; that
is, like some of the mythical beasts that were combinations of any and
all creatures having fins, fur, feathers, or scales, such as the dragon
or griffin. One day, he attempted to make out of a live lion a fanciful
creature of curlicues and curliewurlies. So he strapped the lion down,
and used a curling iron on his mane until he looked like a bearded bull
of Babylon. Then he combed out, and, with curl papers, twisted the long
line of hair, which is seen in front of Leo's stomach. In like manner,
he treated the bunches of hair that grow over the animal's kneepans and
elbows. Last of all, he took a hair brush, and smoothed out the tuft, at
the end of the animal's long tail. Then the artist made a picture of him
in this condition, all curled and rich in ringlets, like a dandy.
By this time, the father of the lion family looked as if he had come out
fresh from a hairdresser's parlor. Indeed, Mrs. Leo was so struck with
her husband's appearance, that she immediately licked her cubs all over,
until their fur shone, so they should look like their father. Then,
having used her tongue as a comb, to make her own skin smooth and
glossy, she completed the job by using the nail in her tail, to do the
finishing work. Altogether, this was the curliest family of lions ever
seen, and Daddy Leo appeared to be the funniest curly-headed and
curly-bodied lion ever seen. In fact he was all curls, from head to
tail.
Notwithstanding all his pains, the artist was not yet satisfied with his
job. He wanted a circle of long hair to grow in the middle of the lion's
tail. His curly lion should beat all creation, and in this way he
proceeded.
His own daughter, being a young lady and having some trouble of the
throat, the doctor had ordered medicine for the girl, charging her not
to spill any drops of the liquid on her face, or clothes.
But, in giving the dose, either the mother, or the daughter, was
careless. At that very moment the cat ran across the room, after the
mouse, and just as she held the spoon to her mouth, Puss got twisted in
her skirts. So most of the medicine splashed upon her upper lip and then
ran down to her chin, on either side of her mouth. She laughed over the
spill, wiped off the liquid, and thought no more of the matter.
But a week later, she was astonished. On waking, she looked in the
glass, only to shrink back in horror. On her face had grown both
moustaches and a beard. True, both were rather downy, but still they
were black; and, until the barber came, and shaved off the growth, she
was a bearded woman. Yet, strange to tell, after one or two shaves by
the barber, no more hair grew again on her face, which was smooth again.
"By Saint Servatus! I'll make a fortune on this," cried the artist, when
he saw his daughter's hairy face.
So, he sold his secret to a druggist, and this man made an ointment,
giving it a Chinese name, meaning "beard-grower." This wonderful
medicine, as his sign declared, would "force the growth of luxuriant
moustaches and a beard, on the smoothest face of any young man," who
should buy and apply it.
Soon the whole town rang with the news of the wonderful discovery. The
druggist sold out his stock, in two days, to happy purchasers. Other
young fellows, that wanted to outrival their companions, had to wait a
fortnight for the new medicine to be made. By that time, a full crop of
downy hair had come out on the cheeks and chin and upper lip of many a
youth. Some, who had been trying for years to raise moustaches, in order
duly to impress the girls, to whom they were making love, were now
jubilant. In several cases, a lover was able to cut out his rival and
win the maid he wanted. Several courtings were hastened and became
genuine matches, because a face, long very smooth, and like a desert as
to hair, bore a promising crop. Beard and cheeks had at last met
together. So the new medicine was called a "match-maker."
The artist rubbed his hands in glee, at the prospect of a fortune. He
argued that if the wonderful ointment made beards for men, it must be
good for lions also. So again, Daddy Lion was coerced by the threat of
the hot poker. Then his tail was seized, and, by means of a rope, tied
to a post on one side of the cage, he was held fast. Then the artist
anointed about six inches of the middle of the smooth tail with the
magic liquid. For fear the lion might lick it off, the poor beast was
held in this tiresome position for a whole week, so that he could not
turn round, and he nearly died of fatigue.
But it happened to the lion's tail, as it did with the young men's
chins, cheeks and upper lips. A beard did indeed grow, but once shaved
off--and many did shave, thinking to promote greater growth--no more
hair ever appeared again. The ointment forced a downy growth but it
killed the roots of the hair.
A worse fate befell the lion. A crop of hair, perhaps an inch longer
than common, grew out. But this time, the bad medicine, which had
deceived men, and was unfit for lions, struck in.
From this cause, added to nervous prostration, old Leo fell dead. As
lion fathers go, he was a good one, and his widow and children mourned
for him. He had never once, however hungry, tried to eat up his cubs,
which was something in his favor.
Soon after these exploits, the old artist died also. His son, hearing
there was still a demand, among kings, for lions, and those especially
with centre curls in their tails, took the most promising of the whelps
and petted and fed him well. In the seventh year, when his mane and
elbow and knee hair had grown out, this cub was mated to a young lioness
of like promise. When, of this couple, a male whelp was born, it was
found that in due time its knees, elbows, tail-tuft, and the front of
its body were all rich in furry growth. In the middle of its tail, also,
thick ringlets, several inches long, were growing. Evidently, the hair
tonic had done some good. So this one became the father of all the
curly-tailed lions in the Netherlands. Not only was this lion, thus
distinguished for so novel an ornament, copied into heraldry, but it
adorned many city seals and town arms. In time, the lion of the
Netherlands was pictured with a crown on its head, a sword in its right
hand, a bundle of seven arrows--in token of a union of seven
states--and, still later, the new Order of the Netherlands Lion was
founded. The original curly lion, with long hair in the middle of its
tail, boasts of a long line of descendants that are proud of their
ancestor.
BRABO AND THE GIANT
Ages ago, when the giants were numerous on the earth, there lived a big
fellow named Antigonus. That was not what his mother had called him, but
some one told him of a Greek general of that name; so he took this for
his own. He was rough and cruel. His castle was on the Scheldt River,
where the city of Antwerp now stands. Many ships sailed out of France
and Holland, down this stream. They were loaded with timber, flax, iron,
cheese, fish, bread, linen, and other things made in the country. It was
by this trade that many merchants grew rich, and their children had
plenty of toys to play with. The river was very grand, deep, and wide.
The captains of the ships liked to sail on it, because there was no
danger from rocks, and the country through which it flowed was so
pretty.
So every day, one could see hundreds of white-sailed craft moving
towards the sea, or coming in from the ocean. Boys and girls came down
to stand in their wooden shoes on the banks, to see the vessels moving
to and fro. The incoming ships brought sugar, wine, oranges, lemons,
olives and other good things to eat, and wool to make warm clothes.
Often craftsmen came from the wonderful countries in the south to tell
of the rich cities there, and help to build new and fine houses, and
splendid churches, and town halls. So all the Belgian people were happy.
But one day, this wicked giant came into the country to stop the ships
and make them pay him money. He reared a strong castle on the river
banks. It had four sides and high walls, and deep down in the earth were
dark, damp dungeons. One had to light a candle to find his way to the
horrid places.
What was it all for? The people wondered, but they soon found out. The
giant, with a big knotted club, made out of an oak tree, strode through
the town. He cried out to all the people to assemble in the great open
square.
"From this day forth," he roared, "no ship, whether up or down the
river, shall pass by this place, without my permission. Every captain
must pay me toll, in money or goods. Whoever refuses, shall have both
his hands cut off and thrown into the river.
"Hear ye all and obey. Any one caught in helping a ship go by without
paying toll, whether it be night, or whether it be day, shall have his
thumbs cut off and be put in the dark dungeon for a month. Again I say,
Obey!"
With this, the giant swung and twirled his club aloft and then brought
it down on a poor countryman's cart, smashing it into flinders. This was
done to show his strength.
So every day, when the ships hove in sight, they were hailed from the
giant's castle and made to pay heavy toll. Poor or rich, they had to
hand over their money. If any captain refused, he was brought ashore and
made to kneel before a block and place one hand upon the other. Then the
giant swung his axe and cut off both hands, and flung them into the
river. If a ship master hesitated, because he had no money, he was cast
into a dungeon, until his friends paid his ransom.
Soon, on account of this, the city got a bad name. The captains from
France kept in, and the ship men from Spain kept out. The merchants
found their trade dwindling, and they grew poorer every day. So some of
them slipped out of the city and tried to get the ships to sail in the
night, and silently pass the giant's castle.
But the giant's watchers, on the towers, were as wide awake as owls and
greedy as hawks. They pounced on the ship captains, chopped off their
hands and tossed them into the river. The townspeople, who were found on
board, were thrown into the dungeons and had their thumbs cut off.
So the prosperity of the city was destroyed, for the foreign merchants
were afraid to send their ships into the giant's country. The reputation
of the city grew worse. It was nicknamed by the Germans Hand Werpen, or
Hand Throwing; while the Dutchmen called it Antwerp, which meant the
same thing. The Duke of Brabant, or Lord of the land, came to the big
fellow's fortress and told him to stop. He even shook his fist under the
giant's huge nose, and threatened to attack his castle and burn it. But
Antigonus only snapped his fingers, and laughed at him. He made his
castle still stronger and kept on hailing ships, throwing some of the
crews into dungeons and cutting off the hands of the captains, until the
fish in the river grew fat.
Now there was a brave young fellow named Brabo, who lived in the
province of Brabant. He was proud of his country and her flag of yellow,
black and red, and was loyal to his lord. He studied the castle well and
saw a window, where he could climb up into the giant's chamber.
Going to the Duke, Brabo promised if his lord's soldiers would storm the
gates of the giant's castle, that he would seek out and fight the
ruffian. While they battered down the gates, he would climb the walls.
"He's nothing but a 'bulle-wak'" (a bully and a boaster), said Brabo,
"and we ought to call him that, instead of Antigonus."
The Duke agreed. On a dark night, one thousand of his best men-at-arms
were marched with their banners, but with no drums or trumpets, or
anything that could make a noise and alarm the watchmen.