by her on the hearth, where she had made a little place for him, and
they talked to each other during the long winter evenings. One day she
asked Heinzchen (Chim, Heinzchen, and Kurt Chimgen are the pet names by
which German and Alsatian cooks generally call their Ko-bolds) to let
her see him in his natural shape. At first Heinzchen refused. {318}but
at last, as she insisted, he told her to go down into the cellar, where
he would show himself to her.” “She took a candle,” he goes on to say,
“and went into the cellar, where the Kobold appeared to her in the
likeness of a child of hers who had died some years before.” Whether
he vanished then, leaving her in amazement and terror, or whether he
resumed the shape in which she had been accustomed to see him, we are
not told. It is a grim story upon which we do not care to dwell, for we
prefer to remember the Kobold as a cheerful household companion. It is
pleasant to think of those quaint little creatures, whose world is the
kitchen, and to imagine the joy they feel in sharing the busy, bustling
life that goes on there daily. Be sure they know every nook and corner
about,--every stew-pan and ladle, and are learned in the steamy scents
and fragrant savors which are the atmosphere of their home. At night
when the fires are out, and the family is asleep, they have a life of
their own. They are on the best possible terms with the cat, which they
permit to share their food, and with which they no doubt waltz when in a
gamesome mood. Happy Kobolds.
According to general belief the Kobolds belong as much to the race
of men as to the world of spirits; they retain the size and shape of
infants, and that knife which so often is noticed in the form {319}of
a caudal appendage, is nothing less than the instrument with which they
have been put to death.
There exist, however, quite a number of troublesome hobgoblins, who turn
the house upside down and deprive the people to whom they bear a grudge
of all peace and sleep, till they well nigh drive them mad. But these
creatures ought, in my opinion, not be mixed up with the Kobolds. The
latter are almost invariably gentle and inoffensive; if they sometimes
become angry, they act just like children; they break and smash things,
but they are easily pacified by the sight of some little tit-bit, as for
instance, a panada made with butter and eggs.
[Illustration: 339]
The Zotterais and the Little White Ladies seem, in their habits at
least, to come nearer to Kobolds. Very useful and easily satisfied, the
Zotterais are as fond of stables as the Kobolds are of kitchens;
they curry the horses, nurse {320}them when they are sick, and
keep everything in excellent order in their racks as well as in the
harness-room.
The Little White Ladies, on the other hand, are more delicate in their
instincts and often quite fastidious; they like only blood horses, Arab
or Turkish horses, and hence the popular idea that they have originated
in the East.
They slip into the stables of wealthy people, while the grooms are
asleep; here they light a small candle, which they always keep about
them, and then proceed to business.
In the morning, when the head, coachman makes his round to see that
everything is right, he sometimes finds a drop of wax on the smooth
coat of a sorrel or an Isabel colored horse, and then he says to the
grooms:--
“You have not had much to do to-day, my friends, with your horses; I see
the little lady has been here.”
The Zotterais are of unmistakable German origin, for they take care of
horses without regard to race and without the help of a wax candle. They
have, of course, harder work to do and are more apt to become soiled
or to have accidents; but, nevertheless, they accomplish their purpose.
They are naturally easily tired, and hence they require a knot to be
made in the mane of a horse, where {321}they can suspend themselves and
rest. There is not a peasant on the banks of the Rhine or the Meuse, who
would neglect this duty, and I have myself often seen them attend to it
carefully.
[Illustration: 341]
Formerly the Zotterais also protected sheep against ticks and kept their
wool from getting tangled; they even derived their name from Zotte,
which means a flock of wool. In those days, it must be presumed, from
the habits of those benevolent little people, the fleeces must have been
whiter and better kept than they are now-a-days; but sheep raisers had
the unlucky idea, produced probably by avarice, that not a particle of
wool should be left on ram or ewe, and thus deprived their tiny friends
of all means to rest and recover breath when hard at work. The Zotterais
looked upon this neglect of what was due to them as an insult, and
abandoned the flocks of sheep for the horses in the stables. Besides,
they found it impossible to live on good terms with the shepherds’ dogs.
We must finally mention the most important and most extraordinary of all
familiar spirits, whom we must needs include among these favored beings,
{322}as he represents nothing less than the son of the house, the child
of the family.
This is the _Killecroff or Suppositus._ The last mentioned name is
given to him because this so-called son of the house is in reality a
changeling, a supposed child, which has been put into the place of the
real child.
[Illustration: 342]
Who has taken the legitimate child from its cradle in order to put into
its place a _Killecroff_, and who is the real father of the latter?
Both of these questions are met by one and the same answer. The Devil!
We have so far carefully avoided touching on matters of witchcraft; but
unfortunately they are as well known on the banks of the Rhine as on
those of the Thames and the Seine. The _Killecroffs_, however, children
of the Devil and begotten according to popular belief during the orgies
of the Witches’ Sabbath, have been really in existence upon earth;
_suppositi_ or not, they have played their part in the world’s history
and occasionally even left behind them illustrious descendants. {323}In
the same way as the Swedish king Vilkins and Merovæus, king of the
Franks, boasted of being the sons of a sea-god, the dynasty of the
Jagellons in Poland were proud of their original descent from the Devil,
no doubt through Killecroffs, and actually bore in their arms certain
emblems of hell.
How can a real Killecroff be recognized, since he has been, improperly
enough, counted in among the Kobolds?
[Illustration: 343]
From his first appearance in the world, the Killecroff excites the
astonishment, and sometimes the {324}admiration of his reputed parents.
He sucks so heartily and with such an appetite that his nurse has to be
reinforced by two goats and a cow, like the renowned Gargantua.
When he is weaned a new marvel appears: he swallows his soup by the
tureen, “as much as two peasants and two threshers in the barn would
take,” says a celebrated writer in speaking of this subject.
He grows up and keeps everything in commotion around him; he provokes
quarrels not only among the servants, but even between his parents. If
some untoward event occurs he roars with laughter, on a day of rejoicing
he sheds tears and moans piteously. He takes a stick or a spit and rides
on it in his room, from morning till evening, climbing on every
chair and table, breaking everything that comes in his way, injuring
himself--also quite as readily, provoking cats, dogs, and even the
parrot on his perch, till they all mew and bark and scream. Then he runs
to the stable and sticks a pin into the croup of a horse to see it kick,
and then breaks open the doors and locks by the aid of a huge stick
of wood; next he rushes into the garden, playing the part of a tempest
there, destroying, uprooting, and breaking everything.
In the poultry yard he wrings the hens’ necks and walks over the young
chickens; in the kitchen {325}he loves to take up the tops of pots and
pans and to season the dishes according to his fancy with salt, pepper,
dust, ashes, oil, vinegar, mustard, sand, or sawdust, and never leaves
without having turned on the water everywhere.
If a visitor arrives, he takes possession of him and stands between his
legs, and walks on his toes, pulls the buttons off his waistcoat, and
draws the strings out of his shoes; he troubles and annoys him in every
way, he pinches and scratches, he worries and tortures him. When his
mother cautiously observes that he must not trouble the gentleman he
obeys like a good child and leaves the gentleman alone, but not without
having first broken his watch-chain, taken his cane, and hid his
spectacles; the cane he drops accidentally into the well; as for the
spectacles, he forgets where he has put them. When the poor visitor,
quite overcome and exhausted, at last rises to go, he stumbles and falls
down the stairs, thanks to a string which his playful young friend, the
Killecroff, has stretched across the top step.
The Killecroffs are generally the delight of their parents; fortunately
they do not live long.
The great man whom I have quoted before, told the Duke of Anhalt
frankly, that if he were a sovereign like the duke, he would run the
risk and become a murderer in such a case, by ordering {326}every such
son of the devil to be thrown into the Moldau!
This great man, who believed so firmly in Killecroffs, who believed
likewise in Butzemann, in Ko-bolds, in Nixen and Undines, who saw the
Devil in every fly that came to drink his ink or to perch on his nose,
was again Dr. Martin Luther.
[Illustration: 346]
The great Reformer, who was so valiant in combating the superstitions of
the Papists, seems to have taken very little trouble to get rid of his
own.
But among the many delusions, in which he apparently delighted, there
was one, a really charming {327}one, which arose from the Christian
religion itself, and which, it seems to me, I cannot well pass over in
silence when speaking of familiar spirits.
I mean Guardian Angels.
A most erudite and clever academician, Mr. Alfred Maury, tells us in
his charming book on “Magic and Astrology,” that according to Egyptian
doctrines a special star foretold the arrival of every man in this
world. In proof of this statement, he refers us to Horapollon, in his
“Treatise on Hieroglyphics.”
We infinitely prefer taking Mr. Maury’s own evidence; and he adds: “This
creed exists still in some remote districts among rural populations, and
especially in Germany.”
It may be that in certain portions of Germany every man may still have
faith in his star; we are willing to believe it, since he says so; but
almost everywhere the star has been superseded by a Guardian Angel,
the White Angel, as they call him, a far more tempting personage, and
infinitely more intimate and sympathetic. The White Angel is much more
than the _Genius loci_; it is in fact the _Genius personalis_.
Without entering here upon a serious discussion, on the subject of
Guardian Angels, whom the modern Church is disposed to ignore, we shall
prefer {328}inserting here, as a complement to our chapter on Familiar
Spirits, a legend, which we were fortunate enough to obtain directly
from very truthful and very beautiful lips:--
“A white figure appeared before the young girl as she awoke.
“‘I am your Guardian Angel!’
“‘Then you will grant me the wishes which I shall mention?’
“‘I shall carry them to God’s throne. You may count upon my assistance.
What are your wishes?’ “‘O White Angel, I am tired of continually
turning the spindle, and my fingers are getting to be so hard by
constant work, that yesterday, at the dance, my partner might have
imagined he was holding a wooden hand.’
“‘Your partner was that fine looking gentleman from Hesse? Did he not
tell you that he adored your blue eyes and fair hair, and that he would
make you a baroness, if you would go home with him?’
“‘White Angel, make me a baroness.’
“The evening of that day a young peasant came and asked Louisa’s mother
for her daughter’s hand. The mother said, Yes.
“‘White Angel, deliver me from this boor. I want to be a baroness!’
“But the mother, who was a widow, had energy {329}enough for two. The
White Angel did not appear again; Louisa had to yield, and went on
turning her spindle.
“One day her husband, who was a hard-working man, had over-exerted
himself and was taken ill. Louisa had seen her gentleman again.
“‘White Angel, he loves me still. He has sworn he would marry me if I
were a widow.’.... She dared not say more. Her husband recovered his
health completely. The White Angel still turned a deaf ear to her
wishes. She lost all hope of ever becoming a baroness.
“Some years later Louisa was the mother of two beautiful children;
she was fond of her husband, whose labor procured for her all that she
needed, and when she thought of him and her two darlings, the spindle
felt quite soft to her fingers.
“One evening, when she was only half asleep, lying by her husband’s
side, with one of her hands in his, and the youngest of her babies at
her bosom, the white figure appeared once more and she heard a gentle
voice whispering something into her ear. It was the voice of the White
Angel.
“What did it say?
“It told her a fable.
“‘A little fish was merrily swimming about in the water and looking
seriously at a pretty blackcap which first circled around and around in
the air {330}and then alighted softly on a branch of a willow which grew
close to the bank of the river.
“‘“Oh,” said the little fish, “how happy that bird is. It can rise up
to the heavens and go high up to the sun to warm itself in its rays. Why
cannot I do the same?”
“‘The blackcap was looking at the fish at the same time, and said:--
“‘“Oh! how happy that fish is! The element in which it lives furnishes
it at the same time with food; it has nothing to do but to glide along.
How I should like to sport in the fresh, transparent water!”
“‘At that moment, a kite pounced upon the poor little fish, while a
scamp of a schoolboy threw a stone at the bird; the blackcap fell into
the water, the fresh, transparent water, and for a moment struggled in
it before it died, while the little fish, carried aloft, could go up
on high to the sun and warm itself in its rays. Their wishes had been
granted.’
“‘Louisa,’ continued the gentle voice, ‘our duty as Guardian Angels is
far more frequently to thwart wishes than to satisfy them.’
“This was the moral of the fable.
“Louisa pressed her husband’s hand warmly, kissed her last born,
and said: ‘Thank you, White Angel, thank you.’” {331}I am certainly
delighted to think, that if the poor Germans have Killecroffs among
their familiar spirits, they have at least also White Angels.
[Illustration: 351]
[Illustration: 355]
XIV.
{335}Giants and Dwarfs.--_Duel between Efthesim and Grommelund.--Court
Dwarfs and Little Dwarfs.--Ymer’s Solis.--The Invisible Reapers.--Story
of the Dwarf Kreiss and the Giant Quadragant.--How the Giants came to
serve the Dwarfs._
If legendary tradition is only a distant vibration of the bell of
history, where must we go and look for traces of the real existence of
giants? Must we believe the Edda or Holy writ itself? Afterwards the
great fossil skeletons of mammoths, mastodons, and other antediluvian
animals only revived the {336}memory of gigantic men. The Apocryphal
Books tell us that in the days of Enoch, a number of angels, amounting
to two hundred, had conceived a desire for the daughters of men and came
down to Mount Hermon in order to be near them. Some of the principal
ones are even mentioned by name; there were Urakabaramiel, Sanyaza,
Tamiel, and Akibiel. Is it a wonder, then, that credulous people should
have believed that devils also, who after all are but fallen angels,
have acted in the same way towards the descendants of Eve. The
Killecroffs, we have seen, were the offspring of a union between
devils and earthborn women; in like manner giants were the offspring
of marriages between women and angels. Women are evidently capable of
setting heaven, earth, and hell on fire.
Germany, which was the last part of Europe to enter the great Catholic
Church, and was to be the first to leave it again at the time of the
Reformation, kept up the belief in giants longer than any other country.
Perhaps this was one of the results of the right of free inquiry.
The giant Einheer lived in the days of Charlemagne and even served
in his army. Several centuries later there were gigantic burgraves
(Burggra-fen), living all along the banks of the Rhine. They have a well
known story there of a young and ingenious giant’s daughter, who had
been jealously {337}guarded in her father’s castle, and when she got
out into the fields for the first time in her life, brought back in her
apron a peasant with his plough and his two horses, whom she had picked
up on the way. She showed them to her father as being all three little
animals of very curious shape.
[Illustration: 357]
After a while, however, the giants became smaller and smaller, until
there were only a few left in the highest mountains, in dark forests,
and in the romances of chivalry. After that they disappeared altogether.
The report is, however, that a single couple, man and wife, are kept
alive by magic art in an isolated part of the Hartz Mountains, to serve
as a specimen of the lost race. {338}At first the giants had produced
universal terror. The god Thor was blessed because he had driven them,
armed as he was with his famous iron mace, all across the Hercynian
forest. But as people became better acquainted with them, their fears
subsided. They turned out to be far from cruel, to eat human flesh only
in cases of dire necessity, and to act generally not only kindly, but
even like simpletons--a misfortune common to most men, who are too
fully developed in length or in breadth. This latter weakness is well
supported by a popular German tale.
An old duke of Bavaria had at his court a dwarf, called Ephesim, and a
giant, called Grommelund. The latter laughed at the dwarf, and Ephesim
threatened to box his ears. Grommelund laughed only the more heartily
and challenged Ephesim to carry out his threat. The dwarf accepted
the challenge, and the duke, having been a witness of the whole scene,
ordered at once that a field for single combat should be prepared.
Everybody expected to do as the giant did and laugh at the pigmy; as the
poor little fellow was hardly two feet high and would have had to climb
a long way before reaching the giant’s ears. But it turned out very
differently.
The dwarf began by walking all around the giant as if to take his
measure. The good-natured giant, {339}standing up immovable, looks down
upon him and laughs till his sides shake; but while he is holding his
hands to his sides, the dwarf unties his shoestrings and then worries
him by kicking and pinching his calves.
[Illustration: 359]
Grommelund laughs more loudly than ever, thanks to the tickling, takes
a few strides, steps on his loose shoestrings, nearly stumbles, and at
last, with a thoughtful presence of mind, characteristic of his race, he
stoops down to tie the strings.
Ephesim has foreseen this, he avails himself of the opportunity, and
slaps the giant’s cheek with his little hand, so heartily that the sound
reaches the ears of the duke and the lords of his court, who applaud
Ephesim’s skill enthusiastically.
The poor giant, humiliated and overcome, left the town, it is said, and
sought refuge in the mountains, where he died of shame.
The people were thus beginning to have a very humble opinion of giants,
when a rumor was spread that they had entered the service of the dwarfs;
{340}not of court dwarfs, but of little dwarfs, who are so small that,
by their size, the others appear as giants.
[Illustration: 360]
These little dwarfs appear in the popular tales of Germany, under
different names, as _Wichtelman-ner, Metallarii, or Homunculi_, and
evidently, at one time, were found in great numbers throughout all the
mountainous parts of the North. In Bretagne they were also known as
_Couribes, Parulpiquets or Cornicouets_, but as they are ugly and evil
disposed, I presume they are not of the same race with our good little
dwarfs. These latter appear in the evening at the foot of large oak
trees, or in old ruins, where they come by the {341}thousand out
of every crack and crevice and gambol and frolic, but vanish at the
smallest noise.
[Illustration: 361]
{343}As to their origin there are different opinions entertained. One
theory alone is worthy of belief, because it is mentioned already in the
Edda.
According to the Scandinavian Bible, when Odin had killed the giant
Ymer, his decaying body produced an innumerable quantity of small
worms. By a law of natural order which had already become operative with
insects, each worm changed into a chrysalis, and out of each chrysalis
came forth a little man, resembling, with a few trifling differences,
the race of full sized men, whom Odin had created.
Like ourselves, they also are subject to all the infirmities of age,
to disease and death; like ourselves, they are at times capable of
reasoning with fairness. Skillful metallurgists, they are at work in the
mines, where we have already met them; they are not without imagination,
and even know what piety is.
What religion do they profess?
For a long time, we are told, the majority, having been converted to
Christianity, were under its benign influence, in a far higher degree
than we, for they did not carry on war among themselves, and all
authors, legends, and ballads agree, that they were gentle and peaceful,
loving each other, {344}kindly disposed towards others, laborious,
and very obliging. Hence they were universally known as the _Peaceful
People_,--das stille Volk.
“In ancient times,” says Wyss, “men lived in the valleys, and around
their dwellings, in the cavities of the rocks, dwelt the little dwarf
people, keeping always on very good terms with them, and helping them
even at times in their work in the fields. They took great delight in
doing good in this way; for generally they were very busy mining in the
mountains, and digging in the ground to collect the tiny particles of
gold and silver that could be obtained.”
Sometimes field laborers coming out to plant or to weed, found their
work already done, and heard the dwarfs, hid behind the bushes, break
out into loud laughter, when they showed their amazement.
It happened one day, early in the morning, that some peasants in passing
a cornfield, saw that the stalks were falling in long rows, as if by
their own will; they were most cunningly cut off below, and now they
were ranging themselves, also to all appearance by their own act, in
long sheaves. The peasants had no doubt that the good little dwarfs
were there, working away stealthily, but of the tiny workmen not a trace
could be seen.
The dwarfs possessed, in common with all these {345}mysterious races,
the power of making themselves invisible. They had nothing to do, for
that purpose, but merely to draw a little hood over their ears, which
formed part of their costume.
Our countrymen, seeing that the wheat was not ripe enough to be cut,
became exceedingly angry against these injudicious friends, and arming
themselves with twigs, went to work striking right and left in the hope
of hurting one or the other by chance. They really heard some faint
cries of distress in the furrows, and soon the first rows of wheat
which had been left standing were thrown into violent disorder, thus
testifying to the flight of the little ones.
Several of the dwarfs became even visible, as the twigs suddenly tore
the hoods from their heads. Thereupon the men became furious and tried
to strike all the harder; but suddenly a violent storm broke forth
and the hail came down in torrents, cutting the whole standing crop to
pieces and sparing only the rows that had been reaped.
The rude countrymen now saw clearly that the Quiet People had foreseen
the hailstorm and anticipated the harvest on that account. They repented
their brutality, but the dwarfs, disgusted by their ingratitude, never
again appeared in that region of country. Similar occurrences took place
in other countries. {346}Now let us see, by what perseverance, by what
skill, and especially by what audacious conceptions these tiny beings,
not much more than a few inches high, succeeded in making themselves
masters of the giants.
[Illustration: 366]
They were running about quite bewildered, pushing and jostling each
other in their anxiety to regain their little mole-hill, he stood at
first with his mouth {347}wide open, lost in amazement. Then, to amuse
himself in true lordly fashion, he crushed a few dozen with his foot.
But he was not without curiosity, and hence he tried in the next place
to find out something about their manners. The moment was not very well
chosen, it must be confessed. Men do not usually choose a city that has
just been taken by storm and given up to pillage, for the purpose of
studying the manners and customs of its citizens. But we have seen
before this, that giants are not remarkably bright.
Our giant, whose name I have never been able to ascertain and whom I
will call for convenience sake, _Quadragant_ (“Quadragant was rather
colossal,” I once read in “Amadis of Gaul;” our giant was really
colossal, for he measured thirty feet in height), our giant, I say,
stretched himself out at full length and fixed his eyes upon the hole
out of which he had pulled the oak tree. He heard a low humming noise
underground, but he could see nothing.