The whole family of dragons, that are scattered all over the world,
have a very bad reputation. It is said that they feed on fat girls, and
will not taste anything but nice, tender, juicy maidens. If they try to
eat old folks, and grown up people, they get a stomach ache at once.
Then, it takes many bottles of medicine, besides keeping them a long
time on a baby’s diet of milk and bread, while they are getting well,
before they are in full health again.
But when they regain their appetite, they roam around through the
country, devouring maidens by the dozen. Then all the fathers, that
have lovely daughters, must be on their guard. They keep their girls at
home, for fear there will be none of them left.
This habit of the dragons to relish, on their bill of fare, only lovely
maidens, makes the brave young men want to fight and kill the monsters,
because, with so few girls left, they fear that they may not be able to
get wives, and, without these, they cannot have homes or be husbands.
But the old dragons were foxy fellows, very cunning and crafty. So they
kept out of the way of the knights and heroes, with their swords and
spears, and arrows, and bow guns: and even from the fairies, who cast
spells over them. It was only once in a while, that a lucky fellow,
like Saint George, could stick his spear clear down the monster’s
throat. It happened, only rarely, that one like Sigurd, the Norseman,
or Susanoo, the Japanese, was able to slay one of the big, clumsy,
crawling creatures, with their trusty swords.
Happily there came, once in a while, a good natured dragon; that is,
the right sort of a fellow, jolly in disposition, and kind to boys.
Such a dragon would even invite a well-behaved man to take dinner with
him, and even point out what food on the dragon’s table tasted best.
Of course, the man would not always like what was served up before him
to eat; for a mortal cannot always enjoy what comes out of the dragon’s
kitchen, nor can he be sure of what he may be swallowing. Nobody enjoys
chewing up his grandmother, or his aunts, or cousins, or sisters, even
though he might, once in a great while, feel like doing so.
So when one goes to see a dragon, and does not, himself, get swallowed
up, he had better take a sandwich or two with him, and not taste the
dragon’s delicacies.
No pretty girl, or plump young lady, ought ever to pay a visit to a
dragon’s cave, because, however kind and polite the monster would wish
to be, to his guest, his appetite might be too strong for him.
Moreover, the very sight of the lovely maiden might make his mouth
water, and then, after roaring out, “um, um,” he would be very apt to
gulp her down, at one mouthful. This might happen so quickly, that she
would not know where she was, or even think what her mother would say,
when she missed her, on ironing day. So, even in the case of a
well-behaved dragon, or one supposed to have a good character, any
person had better be careful about visiting a dragon’s cave.
Now there was a man in Switzerland, a cooper, who made tubs and
buckets, and, once in a great while, a hogshead or a bath tub. His shop
sign was a well-hooped barrel, set over his doorway. He was especially
expert at making and mending milk churns. Some of the girls used to
declare that butter came more quickly, and with less hard work, in
churns made by him, than in any others.
His name was not Rip Van Winkle, whose father, by the way, was born in
Germany, but he had a wife with a bad temper. She had a great
reputation for scolding. It was said that her “tongue, which was only
three inches long, could kill a man six feet high.” In fact, some folks
declared that she did not need a sword, but she could fight a dragon
with her fiery tongue alone. Let her but open her mouth, and such a
volley of abuse would be shot out, at the monster, that, no matter how
big, or how hungry he was, he would curl up his tail and run, or else
flap his wings, like a frightened chicken, and be off.
Now when this cooper was asked how he felt, about having such a scold
for a wife, he used to make apologies, and say, “Well, it was not
always so. Once, she was so sweet and lovely, that I wanted to eat her
up.”
Then, after a minute or two, he would add, “And I have always been
sorry, ever since, that I did not do it.”
When his wife heard of this, she called him “the son of a dragon, and a
woman-eater.”
One day, the cooper received an unusually severe punishment, not at the
hands, but from the mouth of his wife. This, however, he richly
deserved; for, after drinking, with his companions, all night, she had
found him lying in the gutter. After she had rolled him over, like a
flapjack, to see if the drunken lout was her husband, he got up,
looking very sheepish. Then he promised to work hard that day. So she
went back home, to get his breakfast ready.
But instead of going to his house or shop, where the wood shavings
smelled so sweet, he resolved to take a walk, to get rid of a splitting
headache. So he scrambled up the mountain side, expecting, on his
return, to tell his wife, that he had been out in the woods, looking
for timber, to make hoops and barrel staves.
He hardly knew where he was going, for he was stupid and half dizzy,
from so much drink, from the night before, and pretty soon he slipped
and fell. Over and over, he rolled, until, coming to the edge of a
precipice, he stumbled and slid far down into a bog. This cooled him
off and brought him to his senses.
He tried long to find the way out, but could see no hole or cleft in
the rocks. After a while, he saw what looked like a tunnel, or, it
might be, a grotto.
Entering in and peering about him, he discerned four great round
lights, like moons. At this, his heart began to beat, his blood to
swell in his veins, and his hair to rise, nearly knocking his hat off.
He saw two streams of fire issue from beneath and between these shining
orbs. After a few seconds, he saw clearly two dragons, that were
breathing out streams of fire, that nearly scorched off his eyebrows,
while the sulphurous smell nearly knocked him over.
At this, the cooper made the sign of the cross, and prayed for
protection. Thereupon, both the dragons, that had got their jaws ready
to swallow him, shut their mouths. They crawled up gently, with their
tails down, and they gave him to understand that they were friendly, by
licking his hands and feet. This they kept on doing, until all the mud,
into which he had tumbled, and which had stuck to his clothes, was
entirely gone. It was almost like taking a steam bath.
As the winter came on, the appetite of the dragons became less ravenous
and they ate little. Like bears and marmots, they went into their cave,
and kept very quiet, as if asleep. Moreover, even in summer, when these
dragons could not get a supply of maidens, they devoured a sweetish
substance, that exuded from a cleft in the rocks, which must have been
filled by a colony of bees, for honey trickled plentifully down into
the gully. At any rate, the cooper got to like the dragon’s winter food
so well, that he wondered how he could ever have enjoyed black bread
and cheese. In a month, his stomach got quite used to the new diet.
He was not afraid of the dragons, and they seemed to enjoy his company.
Perhaps they thought that, when the spring should come, he might tell
them, when his wife went abroad out of the house; and then, if
starving, they might make a dinner of her.
Meanwhile, the cooper was missed in the village; and, as people wanted
their tubs mended, several parties of strong young men climbed the
mountains to find him. They sought in every grove and wood, over hill
and down dale, in valley, and on the slopes, but his body could not be
found. So, he was mourned as dead; for, in spite of his faults, he was
considered a good fellow.
But in spring time, when the sun began to climb high in the sky, and
the sap rose in the trees, the flowers bloomed, and, the cows went,
with the cheesemakers, to the higher pastures, the two dragons grew
restless, and their appetites came back in full force. Hoping to catch
a nice fat maiden or two, they began to stretch, and roll, and to
writhe, and tumble. They flapped, and furled, and unfolded their wings,
until they felt ready to soar and swoop, with all their former skill.
By this time, also, the cooper began to get homesick. Even though
afraid to meet his wife, he was longing to see his children, after his
long absence. He had got very tired of looking only on rocks and the
walls of the ravine. Moreover, the dragons did not seem to be as
sociable, as at first, and they amused him no longer. Besides, he
wanted to see his neighbors again, to tell them of his adventures and
even to pose as a hero. He feared, however, that before he tried to get
away, the dragons might still eat him up; for they snorted, and
bellowed, and rubbed their stomachs, with their forepaws, as if hungry
enough, indeed, to swallow a horse with its harness on.
One warm day, the cooper heard, afar off, the echoes of the Alpine
horn. He listened with delight to the yodel music, as the shepherds
called their cows and goats. As he was wondering how he could get out
of the valley, and whether the dragons would let him go, he saw the
larger one of the two monsters unfurl his wings, which were as big as a
windmill’s sails. He flew straight up in the air, and, when near the
blue sky, circled about a few times, like the carrier pigeons, which
the cooper had seen at home. Then, careering far away, he disappeared
in the dim distance beyond. No doubt, that day, some poor daddy, on
coming home at night, missed one of his daughters. The cooper had
noticed, that both the dragons had been roaring with hunger, for
several days previously, and now he had his fears.
So the cooper watched his chance, determined not to let the other
dragon get away, without his stealing a ride on the monster’s back. He
knew that a man’s weight, for a dragon to carry in the air, would
hardly be felt, so much as that of a feather.
For a dragon had the power of a catapult, the strength of a rhinoceros,
a roar like a lion, teeth like a tiger, fins like a fish, claws like a
falcon, wings like an eagle, and scales like an alligator. In short, a
dragon was a whole menagerie in itself.
So watching his chance, the cooper, at the very moment that he saw the
second dragon unfold his wings, grabbed hold of his tail; and, though
it was slippery, he hung on to this, for dear life. Far up in the air,
the monster flew, at first very high, and then low, as if he knew where
the cooper lived. Then, coming near his village, the monster swooped
down near the earth, and dropped his burden gently on the top of a
wagon loaded with hay. He was off before any one could let fly an arrow
from the string, or shoot a bolt out of a bow gun, or say “By Saint
Matthew.”
As the cooper climbed down from the hay wagon, all the ducks, geese and
chickens set up a concert of welcome. Donkeys brayed, the cows lowed,
and dogs barked, and cats meowed. His wife, instead of scolding him,
threw her arms around him, and wept for joy. His children gathered
about, and so held his arms and legs, that puss could not get near to
rub her sides against his limbs. All his neighbors and friends welcomed
him back with delight.
The next day, his shop was filled with leaky tubs, and churns that had
lost their hoops, and barrels that needed new staves. In addition, to
this old work awaiting him, the orders for new utensils came in so
fast, that he expected soon to be a rich man. He was so grateful, for
his deliverance and safe return, and for his continuing prosperity,
that, instead of hoarding up his money, he presented, to the church, in
his village, a beautiful silver communion service, on which two dragons
were engraved.
But his happiness was but for a short time, for his stomach had
changed, and could no longer digest the ordinary food of mortals, not
even buttermilk; and, as for cheese, it nearly killed him. Feeding so
long, on honey and dragon’s food, had ruined him for liking any other
articles of diet.
In vain his wife cooked everything very nicely and offered it in the
most tempting form. The maidens of the village, thankful at not being
digested by dragons, tried their best to tempt his appetite, with the
very finest their dainty hands could make, in the form of broths,
salads, meats, cakes, apple dumplings, puddings and tarts. The
delicatessen shops sent the choicest tidbits they could roast before
their spits, bake in their ovens, or show on their tables, or in their
shop windows. Nothing would avail, and the poor man died of slow
starvation; and this, before even autumn had come.
After so sad an event, the popularity of even good dragons waned, so
that it is hard, nowadays, to make anyone believe there were such
creatures, that are named in encyclopædias. It is now, the firm opinion
of most Swiss folks, old and young, that the only good dragon is a dead
one, while those neither dead or alive, but only painted, or in fairy
tales, are good enough to know about.