instant he felt the piece of wood move in his hand, and, to his horror,
perceived that he held an enormous serpent, which was raising itself up
towards his face with its venomous tongue and glistening eyes. He let
go his hold, but it had already twisted itself tight round his arm and
came still closer to his face with its vibrating head; at this instant,
however, an immense black cock rushed down, seized the head of the
serpent with its beak, and carried it up in the air. Michel, who had
observed all this from the other side of the ditch, howled, cried, and
raved when he saw the serpent carried away by one more powerful than
himself.
Exhausted and trembling, Peter continued his way; the path became
steeper, the country wilder, and soon he found himself before the large
pine. He again made a bow to the invisible Little Glass Man, as he had
done the day before, and said--
'Keeper of wealth in the forest of pine,
Hundreds of years are surely thine,
Thine is the tall pine's dwelling place,
Those born on Sunday see thy face.'
'You have not quite hit it,' said a delicate fine voice near him, 'but
as it is you, Peter, I will not be particular.' Astonished he looked
round, and lo! under a beautiful pine there sat a little old man in
a black jacket, red stockings, and a large hat on his head. He had
a tiny affable face and a little beard as fine as a spider's web;
and strange to see, he was smoking a pipe of blue glass. Nay, Peter
observed to his astonishment, on coming nearer, that the clothes,
shoes, and hat of the little man were also of coloured glass, which was
as flexible as if it were still hot, bending like cloth to every motion
of the little man.
'You have met the lubber Michel, the Dutchman?' asked the little man,
laughing strangely between each word. 'He wished to frighten you
terribly; but I have got his magic cudgel, which he shall never have
again.'
'Yes, Mr. Schatzhauser,' replied Peter, with a profound bow, 'I was
terribly frightened. But I suppose the black cock was yourself, and
I am much obliged to you for killing the serpent. The object of my
visit to you, however, is to ask your advice; I am in very poor
circumstances, for charcoal-burning is not a profitable trade; and
being still young I should think I might be made something better,
seeing so often as I do how other people have thriven in a short time;
I need only mention Hezekiel, and the king of the dancing-room, who
have money like dirt.'
'Peter,' said the little man gravely, blowing the smoke of his pipe
a long way off, 'don't talk to me of these men. What good have they
from being apparently happy for a few years here, and the more unhappy
for it afterwards? you must not despise your trade; your father and
grandfather were honest people, Peter Munk, and they carried on the
same trade. Let me not suppose it is love of idleness that brings you
to me.'
Peter was startled at the gravity of the little man, and blushed. 'No,
Mr. Schatzhauser,' said he; 'idleness is the root of every vice, but
you cannot blame me, if another condition pleases me better than my
own. A charcoal-burner is, in truth, a very mean personage in this
world; the glass manufacturer, the raftsmen, and clock-makers, are
people much more looked upon.'
'Pride will have a fall,' answered the little man of the pine wood,
rather more kindly. 'What a singular race you are, you men! It is
but rarely that one is contented with the condition in which he was
born and bred, and I would lay a wager that if you were a glass
manufacturer, you would wish to be a timber merchant, and if you were
a timber merchant you would take a fancy to the ranger's place, or the
residence of the bailiff. But no matter for that; if you promise to
work hard, I will get you something better to do. It is my practice
to grant three wishes to those born on a Sunday, who know how to find
me out. The first two are quite free from any condition, the third I
may refuse, should it be a foolish one. Now, therefore, Peter, say your
wishes; but mind you wish something good and useful.'
'Hurrah!' shouted Peter; 'you are a capital glass man, and justly do
people call you the treasure-keeper, for treasures seem to be plentiful
with you. Well, then, since I may wish what my heart desires, my
first wish is that I may be able to dance better than the king of the
dancing-room, and to have always as much money in my pocket as fat
Hezekiel.'
'You fool!' replied the little man angrily, 'what a paltry wish is
this, to be able to dance well and to have money for gambling. Are you
not ashamed of this silly wish, you blockish Peter? Would you cheat
yourself out of good fortune? What good will you and your poor mother
reap from your dancing well? What use will money be to you, which,
according to your wish, is only for the public-house, there to be spent
like that of the wretched king of the dancing-room? And then you will
have nothing for the whole week and starve. Another wish is now left
free to you; but have a care to desire something more rational.'
Peter scratched himself behind his ears, and said, after some
hesitation, 'Now I wish for the finest and richest glass factory in the
Schwarzwald, with everything appertaining to it, and money to carry it
on.'
'Is that all?' asked the little man, with a look of anxiety; 'is there
nothing else, Peter?'
'Why you might add a horse and chaise.'
'Oh, you stupid Peter!' cried the little man, while he flung his
glass pipe against a thick pine so that it broke in a hundred pieces.
'Horses? a carriage? Sense, I tell you, sense--common sense and
judgment you ought to have wished for, but not a horse and chaise.
Come, come, don't be so sad, we will do all we can to make it turn out
for the best, even as it is, for the second wish is on the whole not
altogether foolish. A good glass factory will support its man; but you
ought to have wished for judgment and sense in addition; a horse and
chaise would come as a matter of course.'
'But, Mr. Schatzhauser,' replied Peter, 'I have another wish left, and
might very well wish for sense, if I am so much in need of it, as you
seem to think.'
'Say no more about it. You will get involved in many an embarrassment
yet, when you will be glad of being at liberty to obtain your third
wish. And now proceed on your way home.' Drawing a small bag from his
pocket, he said: 'There are two thousand florins; let that be enough,
and don't come again asking for money, for, if you do, I must hang you
up to the highest pine. That is the way I have always acted ever since
I have lived in the forest. Three days ago old Winkfritz died, who had
a large glass factory in the Unterwald. Go there to-morrow morning,
and make a fair offer for it. Look well to yourself. Be prudent and be
industrious; I will come to see you from time to time, and assist you
with word and deed, since you have not wished for common sense. But
I must repeat it seriously; your first wish was evil. Guard against
frequenting the public-house, Peter; no one who did so ever prospered
long.' The little man, while thus talking to him, had taken a new pipe,
of the most beautiful glass, from his pocket, charged it with dry
fir-apples, and stuck it into his little toothless mouth. Then drawing
out a large burning-glass, he stepped into the sun and lighted it. When
he had done this, he kindly offered his hand to Peter, added a few
more words of salutary advice which he might carry on his way, puffed
and blew still faster, and finally disappeared in a cloud of smoke,
which smelled of genuine Dutch canaster, and, slowly curling upwards,
vanished amidst the tops of the pines.
On his arrival home, Peter found his mother in great anxiety about
him, for the good dame thought in reality her son had been drawn among
the recruits. He, however, was in great glee and full of hope, and
related to her how he had met with a good friend in the forest, who
had advanced him money to begin another trade. Although his mother had
been living for thirty years in a charcoal-burner's hut, and was as
much accustomed to the sight of sooty people as any miller's wife is to
the floury face of her husband, yet, as soon as her Peter showed her a
more splendid lot, she was vain enough to despise her former condition,
and said: 'In truth, as the mother of a man who possesses a glass
manufactory, I shall indeed be something different from neighbour Kate
and Betsy, and shall in future sit more consequentially at church among
the people of quality.' Her son soon came to terms with the heir of the
glass manufactory. He kept the workmen he found, and made them work day
and night at manufacturing glass. At first he was pleased well enough
with his new trade; he was in the habit of walking leisurely into the
factory, striding up and down with an air of consequence and with his
hands in his pockets, looking now in one corner, now in another, and
talking about various things at which his workmen often used to laugh
heartily. His chief delight, however, was to see the glass blown, when
he would often set to work himself, and form the strangest figures of
the soft mass. But he soon took a dislike to the work; first he came
only for an hour in the day, then only every other day, and finally
only once a week, so that his workmen did just what they liked. All
this came from his frequenting the public-house. The Sunday after he
had come back from the Tannenbühl he went to the public-house, and who
should be jumping there already but the king of the dancing-room; fat
Hezekiel also was already sitting by a quart pot, playing at dice for
crown-pieces. Now Peter quickly put his hand into his pocket to feel
whether the Little Glass Man had been true to his word, and lo! his
pockets were stuffed full of silver and gold. He also felt an itching
and twitching in his legs, as if they wished to dance and caper. When
the first dance was over, he took his place with his partner at the
top next to the king of the dancing-room; and if the latter jumped
three feet high, Peter jumped four; if he made fantastic and graceful
steps, Peter twined and twisted his legs in such a manner that all
the spectators were utterly amazed with delight and admiration. But
when it was rumoured in the dancing-room that Peter had bought a glass
manufactory, and when people saw that Peter, as often as he passed
the musicians, threw a six-bätzner piece to them, there was no end
of astonishment. Some thought he had found a treasure in the forest,
others were of opinion that he had succeeded to some fortune, but all
respected him now, and considered him a made man, simply because he
had plenty of money. Indeed that very evening he lost twenty florins
at play, and yet his pockets jingled and tingled as if there were a
hundred thalers in them.
When Peter saw how much respected he was, he could no longer contain
himself with joy and pride. He threw away handfuls of money and
distributed it profusely among the poor, knowing full well as he did
how poverty had formerly pinched him. The feats of the king of the
dancing-room were completely eclipsed by those of the new dancer, and
Peter was surnamed the 'emperor of the dancing-room.' The most daring
gamblers did not stake so much as he did on a Sunday, neither did they,
however, lose so much; but then, the more he lost, the more he won.
This was exactly what he had demanded from the Little Glass Man; for
he had wished he might always have as much money in his pocket as fat
Hezekiel, and it was to this very man he lost his money. If he lost
twenty or thirty florins at a stroke, they were immediately replaced
in his own pocket, as soon as Hezekiel pocketed them. By degrees he
carried his revelling and gambling further than the worst fellows
in the Schwarzwald, and he was oftener called 'gambling Peter' than
'emperor of the dancing-room,' since he now gambled almost all days
of the week. In consequence of his imprudence, his glass manufactory
gradually fell off. He had manufactured as much as ever could be made,
but he had failed to purchase, together with the factory, the secret
of disposing of it most profitably. At length it accumulated to such a
degree that he did not know what to do with it, and sold it for half
price to itinerant dealers in order to pay his workmen.
Walking homewards one evening from the public-house, he could not, in
spite of the quantity of wine he had drunk to make himself merry, help
thinking with terror and grief of the decline of his fortune. While
engaged in these reflections, he all at once perceived some one walking
by his side. He looked round, and behold it was the Little Glass Man.
At the sight of him he fell into a violent passion, protested solemnly,
and swore that the little man was the cause of all his misfortune.
'What am I to do now with the horse and chaise?' he cried; 'of what use
is the manufactory and all the glass to me? Even when I was merely a
wretched charcoal-burner, I lived more happily, and had no cares. Now
I know not when the bailiff may come to value my goods and chattels,
and seize all for debt.'
'Indeed?' replied the Little Glass Man, 'indeed? I am then the cause
of your being unfortunate. Is that your gratitude for my benefits? Who
bade you wish so foolishly? A glass manufacturer you wished to be, and
you did not know where to sell your glass! Did I not tell you to be
cautious in what you wished for? Common sense, Peter, and prudence, you
wanted.'
'A fig for your sense and prudence,' cried Peter; 'I am as shrewd a
fellow as any one, and will prove it to you, Little Glass Man,' seizing
him rudely by the collar as he spoke these words, and crying, 'Have I
now got you, Schatzhauser? Now I will tell you my third wish, which you
shall grant me. I'll have instantly, on the spot, two hundred thousand
hard thalers and a house. Woe is me!' he cried, suddenly shaking his
hand, for the little man of the wood had changed himself into red-hot
glass, and burned in his hand like bright fire. Nothing more was to be
seen of him.
For several days his swollen hand reminded him of his ingratitude and
folly. Soon, however, he silenced his conscience, saying: 'Should they
sell my glass, manufactory and all, still fat Hezekiel is certain to
me; and as long as he has money on a Sunday, I cannot want.'
'Very true, Peter! But, if he has none?' And so it happened one day,
and it proved a singular example in arithmetic. For he came one Sunday
in his chaise to the inn, and at once all the people popped their
heads out of the windows, one saying, 'There comes gambling Peter;'
a second saying, 'Yes, there is the emperor of the dancing-room, the
wealthy glass manufacturer;' while a third shook his head, saying, 'It
is all very well with his wealth, but people talk a great deal about
his debts, and somebody in town has said that the bailiff will not wait
much longer before he distrains upon him.'
At this moment the wealthy Peter saluted the guests at the windows in a
haughty and grave manner, descended from his chaise, and cried: 'Good
evening, mine Host of the Sun. Is fat Hezekiel here?'
To this question a deep voice answered from within: 'Only come in,
Peter; your place is kept for you; we are all here at the cards
already.'
Peter entering the parlour, immediately put his hand into his pocket,
and perceived, by its being quite full, that Hezekiel must be
plentifully supplied. He sat down at the table among the others and
played, losing and winning alternately; thus they kept playing till
night, when all sober people went home. After having continued for
some time by candle-light, two of the gamblers said: 'Now it is enough,
and we must go home to our wives and children.'
But Peter challenged Hezekiel to remain. The latter was unwilling, but
said, after a while, 'Be it as you wish; I will count my money, and
then we'll play dice at five florins the stake, for anything lower is,
after all, but child's play.' He drew his purse, and, after counting,
found he had a hundred florins left; now Peter knew how much he himself
had left, without counting first. But if Hezekiel had won before,
he now lost stake after stake, and swore most awfully. If he cast a
_pasch_, Peter immediately cast one likewise, and always two points
higher. At length he put down the last five florins on the table,
saying, 'Once more; and if I lose this stake also, yet I will not leave
off; you will then lend me some of the money you have won now, Peter;
one honest fellow helps the other.'
'As much as you like, even if it were a hundred florins,' replied
Peter, joyful at his gain, and fat Hezekiel rattled the dice and threw
up fifteen; 'Pasch!' he exclaimed, 'now we'll see!' But Peter threw up
eighteen, and, at this moment, a hoarse, well-known voice said behind
him, 'So! that was the last.'
He looked round, and behind him stood the gigantic figure of Michel
the Dutchman. Terrified, he dropped the money he had already taken up.
But fat Hezekiel, not seeing Michel, demanded that Peter should advance
him ten florins for playing. As if in a dream, Peter hastily put his
hand into his pocket, but there was no money; he searched in the other
pocket, but in vain; he turned his coat inside out, not a farthing,
however, fell out; and at this instant he first recollected his first
wish, viz. to have always as much money in his pocket as fat Hezekiel.
All had now vanished like smoke.
The host and Hezekiel looked at him with astonishment as he still
searched for and could not find his money; they would not believe that
he had no more left; but when they at length searched his pockets,
without finding anything, they were enraged, swearing that gambling
Peter was an evil wizard, and had wished away all the money he had won
home to his own house. Peter defended himself stoutly, but appearances
were against him. Hezekiel protested he would tell this shocking story
to all the people in the Schwarzwald, and the host vowed he would the
following morning early go into the town and inform against Peter as a
sorcerer, adding that he had no doubt of his being burnt alive. Upon
this they fell furiously upon him, tore off his coat, and kicked him
out of doors.
Not one star was twinkling in the sky to lighten Peter's way as he
sneaked sadly towards his home, but still he could distinctly recognise
a dark form striding by his side, which at length said, 'It is all over
with you, Peter Munk; all your splendour is at an end, and this I could
have foretold you even at the time when you would not listen to me, but
rather ran to the silly glass dwarf. You now see to what you have come
by disregarding my advice. But try your fortune with me this time, I
have compassion on your fate. No one ever yet repented of applying to
me, and if you don't mind the walk to the Tannenbühl, I shall be there
all day to-morrow and you may speak to me, if you will call.' Peter now
very clearly perceived who was speaking to him, but feeling a sensation
of awe, he made no answer and ran towards home.
When, on the Monday morning, he came to his factory, he not only found
his workmen, but also other people whom no one likes to see, viz. the
bailiff and three beadles. The bailiff wished Peter good morning,
asked him how he had slept, and then took from his pocket a long list
of Peter's creditors, saying, with a stern look, 'Can you pay or not?
Be short, for I have no time to lose, and you know it is full three
leagues to the prison.' Peter in despair confessed he had nothing left,
telling the bailiff he might value all the premises, horses and carts.
But while they went about examining and valuing the things, Peter said
to himself, 'Well, it is but a short way to the Tannenbühl, and as the
_little_ man has not helped me, I will now for once try the _big_ man.'
He ran towards the Tannenbühl as fast as if the beadles were at his
heels. On passing the spot where the Little Glass Man had first spoken
to him, he felt as if an invisible hand were stopping him, but he tore
himself away and ran onwards till he came to the boundary which he
had well marked. Scarcely had he, quite out of breath, called 'Dutch
Michel, Mr. Dutch Michel!' when suddenly the gigantic raftsman with his
pole stood before him.
'Have you come then?' said the latter, laughing. 'Were they going
to fleece you and sell you to your creditors? Well, be easy, all
your sorrow comes, as I have always said, from the Little Glass Man,
the Separatist and Pietist. When one gives, one ought to give right
plentifully and not like that skinflint. But come,' he continued,
turning towards the forest, 'follow me to my house, there we'll see
whether we can strike a bargain.'
'Strike a bargain?' thought Peter. 'What can he want of me, what can
I sell to him? Am I perhaps to serve him, or what is it that he can
want?' They went at first uphill over a steep forest path, when all at
once they stopped at a dark, deep, and almost perpendicular ravine.
Michel leaped down as easily as he would go down marble steps; but
Peter almost fell into a fit when he saw him below, rising up like a
church steeple, reaching him an arm as long as a scaffolding pole, with
a hand at the end as broad as the table in the ale-house, and calling
in a voice which sounded like the deep tones of a death bell, 'Set
yourself boldly on my hand, hold fast by the fingers and you will not
fall off.' Peter, trembling, did as he was ordered, sat down upon his
hand and held himself fast by the thumb of the giant.
They now went down a long way and very deep, yet, to Peter's
astonishment, it did not grow darker; on the contrary, the daylight
seemed rather to increase in the chasm, and it was some time before
Peter's eyes could bear it. Michel's stature became smaller as Peter
came lower down, and he stood now in his former size before a house
just like those of the wealthy peasants of the Schwarzwald. The room
into which Peter was led differed in nothing but its appearance of
solitariness from those of other people. The wooden clock, the stove
of Dutch tiles, the broad benches and utensils on the shelves were the
same as anywhere else. Michel told him to sit down at the large table,
then went out of the room and returned with a pitcher of wine and
glasses. Having filled these, they now began a conversation, and Dutch
Michel expatiated on the pleasures of the world, talked of foreign
countries, fine cities and rivers, so that Peter, at length, feeling a
yearning after such sights, candidly told Michel his wish.
'If you had courage and strength in your body to undertake anything,
could a few palpitations of your stupid heart make you tremble; and the
offences against honour, or misfortunes, why should a rational fellow
care for either? Did you feel it in your head when they but lately
called you a cheat and a scoundrel? Or did it give you a pain in your
stomach, when the bailiff came to eject you from your house? Tell me,
where was it you felt pain?'
'In my heart,' replied Peter, putting his hand on his beating breast,
for he felt as if his heart was anxiously turning within him.
'Excuse me for saying so, but you have thrown away many hundred
florins on vile beggars and other rabble; what has it profited you?
They have wished you blessings and health for it; well, have you
grown the healthier for that? For half that money you might have
kept a physician. A blessing, a fine blessing, forsooth, when one
is distrained upon and ejected! And what was it that urged you put
your hand into your pocket, as often as a beggar held out his broken
hat?--Why your heart again, and ever your heart, neither your eyes, nor
your tongue, nor your arms, nor your legs, but your heart; you have, as
the proverb truly says, taken too much to heart.'
'But how can we accustom ourselves to act otherwise? I take, at
this moment, every possible pains to suppress it, and yet my heart
palpitates and pains me.'
'You, indeed, poor fellow!' cried Michel, laughing; 'you can do nothing
against it; but give me this scarcely palpitating thing, and you will
see how comfortable you will then feel.'
'My heart to you?' cried Peter, horrified. 'Why, then, I must die on
the spot! Never!'
'Yes, if one of your surgeons would operate upon you and take out your
heart, you must indeed die; but with me it is a different thing; just
come in here and convince yourself.'