The Little White Feather.
If you've ever tried to count the raindrops, you will know how I felt
when for three whole days it poured in torrents. I was alone in the
library, watching a hole in the wainscotting through which a mouse had
just poked her head, when some one said "_Guten Morgen_" in a piping
voice, and I knew this must be a Kobold. I was rather surprised that I
had not met one of these House-Spirits before.
He was sitting on the edge of a bookcase--a little brown man with a
wrinkled, good-natured face, and wearing no clothes. He chuckled when I
said that I would rather speak English if he did not mind, and remarked
that all languages were the same to him.
"I believe you have met some cousins of mine, the Brownies," he went
on affably, kissing his hand to the mouse, who popped back to her hole
as if he had shocked her. "They are good little chaps, but quiet and
humdrum. You always know what a Brownie will do, but as for us--mortals
can never tell what a Kobold will be up to next. We make ourselves quite
at home in their houses, and really own them, if the truth were known.
But excuse me--I should not appear before you in this undress."
In the twinkling of an eye the Kobold had changed himself into a
curly haired boy, with smooth pink cheeks and a red silk coat, and
knickerbockers of dark green velvet. "This is my best suit," he
explained proudly, turning himself from side to side. "I usually wear
it when I play with children who were born, like yourself, at the
blessed feast of Christmas-tide. It is only one of my many disguises,
however, though I seldom allow myself to be seen at all. I can even
hide in the cast-off coat of a harmless snake, and woe to him who lays
stick upon me or seeks to drive me away. The Heinzelmaenchen, as we are
called, can be bitter foes as well as powerful friends, and 'twas an
evil day for the city of Koeln when we marched out of it. It has never
prospered since."
"Why----" I began, and the Kobold held up his hand to stop me, puckering
his baby face into a dreadful frown.
"Why? Why? Why?" he mimicked. "How like the child of mortal man!
Everything has to tell its reason--you rob the peach of its velvet bloom
that you may find the secret of its ruddy splendour, and the fairy gems
on the grass at dawn are to you but water distilled from earth! You
would know how the tide finds a way to turn, why the light of the stars
transcends your rush-lights! Elves and Fairies and such-like things are
driven away by your curiosity, as the Heinzelmaenchen were by Rosetta."
I was going to ask who Rosetta might be, but I remembered just in time
that this would be another question. The Kobold chose a more comfortable
seat, and told me of his own accord.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The Sin of Rosetta.
"Toward the end of the eighteenth century," he began, "the
Heinzelmaenchen, took up their abode in the city of Koeln, where Johann
Farina distilled the sweet-scented waters now famous all over the world.
When first he blended the fragrant oils of bergamot, citron, orange and
rosemary, it was we who whispered to him in what proportion he should
mix them, and how to imprison their lasting perfume. Not only him did
we help, but wherever we came across a worthy fellow who was poor
but honest, we gave him a lift up; such was Rudolph the tailor, whom
we found when a lad on the steps of the great Cathedral, without a
_pfennig_ in his pocket, and with a wolf inside him big enough to
swallow a little pig. When we saw how readily he returned a _thaler_
that rolled to his feet to the feeble old woman who had dropped it,
though he might well have said he had not seen it fall, we took him to
our hearts, and swore to befriend him.
'So!' we said, one to the other. 'Rudolph is worthy to be our comrade.
He is a good lad, and henceforth we will see that he does not want.'
The first thing to be done was to procure him decent clothing, for no
one would employ him while he went in rags. We did this by pointing him
out to the wife of a rich merchant, who fancied she saw in his pinched
white face a likeness to the son she had lost long since.
Touched by the poor lad's poverty, she gave him a suit of clothes which
had lain by for many a day, and on finding he was an orphan, apprenticed
him to a tailor. The lad worked well. We took it in turns to sit beside
him, showing him just where to place his needle, so that his seams were
always neat, and guiding his scissors so that he cut the cloth to the
best advantage. So skilful did he become that, when his time was out,
his master begged him to stay on with him as head assistant, and gave
him a good wage.
A fine young spright was Rudolph now, with jet-black hair and eyes like
coals. His master's daughters, Euralie and Rosetta, both looked on him
with favour, and for a time it seemed that he knew not which to choose.
Euralie was small and slight, with eyes like a dove's; Rosetta was tall
and buxom, and had she been free from the vice of curiosity would have
made him a model wife. She was clever and industrious as well as witty,
and when Dark Rudolph passed by the gentle Euralie, and took Rosetta for
his betrothed, it was only the Heinzelmaenchen who shook their heads.
Never was grander wedding feast than his. While he and Rosetta where
still in church, we brought to his house the finest drinking vessels
that we could lay our hands on, and pots and pans of beaten copper that
were the envy of every housewife bidden as a guest. There were fairy
cakes in the silver dishes, and luscious fruits such as grew in no
western lands; the wine in the ruby goblets was honeyed nectar, and
though his friends quaffed deeply, their heads remained quite clear. A
proud man was Rudolph as he drank to his bride, and she looked so happy
and gay and bright, that we resolved to take her, too, under our
protection.
And this we did. When her children came, we rocked the cradle and sang
them lullabies while she baked and brewed, and when they slept we
scrubbed and polished from garret to cellar, until her house was the
pride of the street. Often she would ask to be allowed to see us, but we
always refused, telling her to respect our wish, and be content. Still
she would not rest, and nothing that Dark Rudolph could say to her would
induce her to hold her peace.
He had now three shops instead of one, and counted lords and barons
among his customers. No one could fit as he could, for we were always at
hand to nip in here or let out there, and many a fine straight figure
was the result of our cunning skill. His fame spread far through the
neighbouring towns, and one spring a great noble travelled to Koeln to
order some rich apparel for himself and his suite. Our busy tailor was
at his wit's end how to get it finished in time, for all his assistants
were working their hardest, and still they were behind.
'Have no fear! Dark Rudolph,' we cried, when we found him alone. 'Send
your men to rest, and leave it to us. When you wake in the morning you
shall find all done.'
We lost not a moment that livelong night--it was as if our needles had
wings. Just before cockcrow, the door of the workroom creaked softly
open, and there stood Rosetta in her white nightgown, with her hair in
two long plaits, peering round the corner to see if she could catch us
at work. We were justly enraged, but since we heard her in time to
render ourselves invisible, and also because we loved Dark Rudolph, we
decided to give her one more chance.
It was our custom to leave the lower part of the house at the hour of
midnight, no matter what we might be doing, and climb the steep stairs
that led to the bedrooms, to watch that the ghosts which were free to
roam till cockcrow might not ruffle the children's hair, or wake them
with their long-drawn sighs. Rosetta knew this, for she had often heard
us comforting the little Rudolph when his sleep was disturbed by a bad
dream, and with gross ingratitude she tried to be-fool us. One night,
she strewed dried peas on the top steps of the winding staircase, so
that when we came up we should lose our footing and fall to the bottom,
and thus she might see us struggling on the ground. We knew perfectly
well, however, why she had bought the peas, and stayed below. When she
rose next morning, she forgot the trap she had laid for us, and tumbled
headlong down the stairs. While she groaned and moaned over her broken
ankle, the Heinzelmaenchen marched out of the town to stirring music,
which was heard by all the citizens. We sailed down the Rhine in a
phantom boat, which you may yet see floating on its waters if you look
for it at the right time. And Dark Rudolph and his Rosetta sighed for
our help in vain."
[Illustration]
The Kobold was a most entertaining little fellow, and stayed with me all
the morning, telling me of well known House Spirits of days gone by. One
of these tales was about
[Illustration]
The Little white Feather.
"Hinzelmann," said the Kobold solemnly, "was a Spirit who haunted the
castle of Hudemuehlen, though it was not until late in the sixteenth
century that those who lived there were aware of his presence. He seemed
of so friendly a disposition that the servants became quite used to
him. They never saw him, but he would often talk with them while they
worked, telling them of what went on in the Underworld, and of the
mighty Giants of bye-gone days who had been created in order to protect
the Dwarfs from savage beasts, but had become themselves so savage in
the course of the ages that they had to be done away with. In time the
lord of the castle heard of his strange visitor, and sent him a message
saying he desired his presence at a certain hour.
'No need to wait until then, good Sir!' laughed Hinzelmann over his
shoulder. 'I assist each morning at your lordship's toilet, though you
do not perceive me, and I blunt your razors when you are out of temper.'
This displeased the lord of the castle, for he thought it unseemly to be
on terms of such familiar intimacy with a bodiless House-Spirit. When he
rebuked him for his presumption, Hinzelmann laughed more loudly still.
'Better men than you have to put up with my company, if I will!' he
cried, 'and, believe me, I do not intend to leave you!'
The nobleman grew more and more uneasy, for it disturbed him to feel
that he was never alone. Hinzelmann whistled and sang through the State
rooms, and when his lordship expressed irritation this was the
House-Spirit's favourite song:
'If thou here wilt let me stay,
Good luck shalt thou have alway.
But if hence thou dost me chase,
Luck will ne'er come near the place.'[1]
[Footnote 1: The Fairy Mythology]
He hummed this morning, noon, and night, until the lord of the castle
was sick of it. 'Since I cannot drive this fellow away,' he said at
last, 'I must e'en go myself;' and telling no one of his intentions, he
summoned his coach and set out for Hanover. On the way he noticed that
no matter how fast his horses went, a little white feather danced above
their heads. Although he wondered at this, he did not connect it with
the House-Spirit, and when he arrived at his chosen Inn, sought his
couch with a mind at ease.
'Thank heaven,' he muttered, as he turned him over and went to sleep, 'I
am free at last of this troublesome Hinzelmann. By the time I see fit
to return home, he may have gone elsewhere.'
[Illustration: A little white Feather danced above their heads.]
[Illustration]
Next morning he missed his fine gold chain, which was an heirloom, and,
greatly distressed, he haughtily demanded of the Innkeeper that his
servants should be searched.
'They have robbed me,' he cried, 'and they shall suffer for it! Cannot
one sleep at your house without meeting with knaves and thieves?'
At this the Innkeeper was very angry. Instead of condoling with the
nobleman on his loss, and offering to make it good, he roundly rebuked
him for taking away the character of honest men without due proof. The
noble was leaving the Inn in much haste when a soft voice asked him why
he was troubled.
'If it be on account of the bauble upon which you set such store,' it
continued, 'look under your pillow and you will find it. You cannot get
on without Hinzelmann after all!'
'I would I had never known you, base spirit!' stormed the nobleman. 'You
have put me greatly in the wrong with all these men, and my journey has
been for nought, since you are here. If you do not quit me I will leave
this country; it is not wide enough to hold us both.'
Then Hinzelmann spoke to him with much reason, pointing out that he
wished him no harm, and that it was impossible to shake him off, since
wherever the lord went, he could follow.
'It was I who flew as a little white feather in front of your coach,' he
concluded. 'You played the part of a poltroon when you fled from what
you believed to be evil, instead of fighting it on your own ground. Come
back with me, and if you give me your friendship, I will work but good
to you and yours.'
So the nobleman went back to his castle, and Hinzelmann lived there with
him. A little room was set aside for his use in an upper story, and here
they placed, by the nobleman's orders, a small round table, and a tiny
bed. No one could ever make out if he slept on this, but once when the
cook entered very quickly, to take him the dish of new milk and wheaten
crumbs which was placed each morn on his table, she saw a shallow
depression on the down pillow, as if something very small and soft had
rested there.
When the time came for Hinzelmann to leave the castle, he presented its
lord with three fairy gifts, the last of these being a leather glove
richly wrought with pearls in a curious pattern of snails and scrolls.
So long as this glove was in possession of his house, he told him, so
long would his race flourish. And thus he requited the kindness which
had been shown him. There is nothing that we like better than to help
our friends."
"I know," I said, nodding my head. And the House Spirit smiled as if
this pleased him.
"We need take no credit for this," he remarked, "since the Dwarf King
himself sets us the example. His rescue of the poor old couple at
Schillingsdorf is but one of many instances of the way in which he
gladly helps those who show hospitality to him or his.
Caught in a storm, he wandered from door to door, entreating each person
who answered his knock to let him enter and warm himself. One and all
they refused, for his green velvet garments were stained and draggled,
and they had not the wit to see that in spite of his dripping clothes
and dishevelled beard he was still every whit a king. At last he came to
the hut of an ancient shepherd, whose little old wife was as thin as he,
for food had been very scarce. The moment she saw the wanderer, her
heart went out to him.
'Come in and welcome, you poor little fellow!' she said, setting wide
her door. 'Our fire is not much to boast of, but 'tis better than none
on a night like this.' And the shepherd hobbled to the inner room that
he might bring his Sunday coat, and place this round their visitor's
shoulders while his own lay drying on the hearth. Then the old woman
spread a white cloth on the table, and gave the Dwarf her share of the
coarse black bread which was all her cupboard contained.
'I thank you, my friends,' he said, breaking the bread into two
fragments. As he did so, one became a fine white loaf, and the other a
noble cheese. The Dwarf laughed at the old couple's amazement, and bade
them feast to their heart's content.
'So long as you leave on the platter a crust of bread and an inch of
cheese,' he said, 'so long will a fresh loaf and a fresh cheese spring
from these fragments during the night; but if ever a beggar entreats
your help, and you refuse him, they will turn to dust and ashes. Now I
bid you farewell, but ere long we shall meet again.'
So saying, he went out in the rain, despite their entreaties that he
would at least stay with them until the storm was over.
Little sleep did they have that night, for wind and rain swept through
the valley. Torrents roared down the mountain side, flooding the wooden
houses, and even worse befell at daybreak. An enormous rock snapped off
from a topmost peak, and carrying with it great masses of stones and
uprooted firs, crashed down on the little village. All living things
were buried beneath its weight except the shepherd and his wife, whose
cottage yet was spared. Tremblingly they stood on the threshold, for
they thought their last hour had come.
'Thou hast been a good wife, my dear one,' breathed the shepherd, as he
drew her frail form close to him.
'It is well that we should go together, since thou hast lain by my side
for nigh sixty years,' she whispered, hiding her face against his
breast.
'How now?' cried a reassuring voice. 'Dost despair so easily?' And
looking up they saw their friend the Dwarf riding on a rough raft in
the centre of the stream, and steering before him the trunk of an
immense pine. This he proceeded to fix crosswise in front of their
little garden, so as to form a dam. The torrent now passed by the
cottage, leaving it undisturbed, and the voice of the wind was hushed.
The sun came out, and the birds sang; but the only people alive in
Schillingsdorf were the shepherd and his old wife."
[Illustration: "'How now?' cried a reassuring voice."]
[Illustration]