Claes, the father of Ulenspiegel, was known in Damme by the name
of Kooldraeger, that is to say, the Charcoal-burner. Claes had a
black head of hair, bright eyes, and a skin the colour of his own
merchandise--save only on Sundays and Feast Days, when his cottage
ran with soap and water. He was a short, thick-set man, strong,
and of a joyful countenance.
Towards the end of the day, when evening was coming on, he would
sometimes visit the tavern on the road to Bruges, there to rinse his
charcoal-blackened throat with a draught of cuyte; and then the women
standing at their doorways to sniff the evening dew would cry out to
him in friendly greeting:
"A good night and a good drink to you, Charcoal-burner."
"A good night to you, and a lively husband!" Claes would reply.
And sometimes the girls, trooping home together from their work in
the fields, would line up in front of him right across the road,
barring his way.
"What will you give us for the right of passage?" they would cry. "A
scarlet ribbon, a buckle of gold, a pair of velvet slippers, or a
florin piece for alms?"
But Claes, holding one of the girls fast by the waist, would give
her a hearty kiss on her fresh cheek or on her neck, just whichever
happened to be nearest, and then he would say:
"You must ask the rest, my dears, of your sweethearts."
And off they would go amidst peals of laughter.
As for the children, they always recognized Claes by his loud voice
and by the noise his clogs made on the road, and they would run up
to him and cry:
"Good evening, Charcoal-burner."
"The same to you, my little angels," he would answer; "but come no
nearer, lest perchance I turn you into blackamoors."
But the children were bold, and oftentimes would make the venture. Then
Claes would seize one of them by the doublet, and rubbing his blackened
hands up and down the little fellow's nose, would send him off all
sooty, but laughing just the same, to the huge delight of the others.
Soetkin, wife of Claes, was a good wife and mother. She was up with
the dawn, and worked as diligently as any ant. She and Claes laboured
together in the field, yoking themselves to the plough as though they
had been oxen. It was hard work dragging it along, but even the plough
was not so heavy as the harrow, that rustic implement whose task it
was to tear up the hardened earth with teeth of wood. But Claes and
his wife worked always with a gay heart, and enlivened themselves with
singing. And in vain was the earth hard, in vain did the sun hurl
down on them his hottest beams, in vain were their knees stiffened
with bending and their loins tired with the cruel effort of dragging
the harrow along, for they had only to stop a moment while Soetkin
turned to Claes her gentle face, and while Claes kissed that mirror
of a gentle heart, and straightway they forgot how tired they were.
V
Now the previous day, the town crier had given notice from before
the Town Hall that Madame, the wife of the Emperor Charles, being
near the time of her delivery, it behoved the people to say prayers
on her behalf.
Katheline came to Claes in a great state of excitement.
"Whatever is the matter, my good woman?" he asked.
"Alas!" she cried, catching her breath, "behold! This night the
ghosts are mowing men down like grass. Little girls are being buried
alive. The executioner is dancing on the body of the dead. And broken,
this night, is that Stone which has been sweating blood these nine
months past and more!"
"Mercy on us!" groaned Soetkin. "Mercy on us, O Lord! This is a black
omen indeed for the land of Flanders."
"Do you see these things with your own eyes wide awake, or perchance
in a dream?" Claes asked her.
"With my own eyes," Katheline told him. And then all pale and tearful,
she continued in these words:
"To-night two children are born: the one in Spain--the infant
Philip--and the other in this land of Flanders--the son of Claes,
he that later on shall be known by the name of Ulenspiegel. Philip
will grow up to be a common hangman, being the child of the Emperor
Charles the Fifth, the destroyer of our country. But Ulenspiegel
will be a master of the merry words and frolics of youth, yet good
of heart withal, having for his father Claes, the brave working man
that knows how to earn his own living with courage, honesty, and
gentleness. Charles the Emperor and Philip the King will go riding
their way through life, doing evil by battle, extortion, and other
crimes. But Claes, working hard all the week, living according to right
and according to law, and laughing at his laborious lot instead of
being cast down thereby, will be the model of all the good workpeople
of Flanders. Ulenspiegel, young and immortal, will ramble over the
world and never settle in one place. And he will be peasant, nobleman,
painter, sculptor, all in one. And he will continue his wanderings
hither and thither, lauding things beautiful and good, and laughing
stupidity to scorn. Claes, then, O noble people of Flanders, is your
courage; Soetkin your valiant motherhood; Ulenspiegel your soul. A
sweet and gentle maiden, lover of Ulenspiegel and immortal like him,
shall be your heart; and Lamme Goedzak, with his pot-belly, shall be
your stomach. And up aloft shall stand the devourers of the people; and
beneath them their victims. On high the thieving hornets; and below the
busy bees. While in heaven bleed for evermore the wounds of Christ."
And when she had thus spoken, Katheline, the kindly sorceress, went
to sleep.