Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine Vol. 56, No. 346, August, 1844 by Various

V >> Various >> Blackwood\'s Edinburgh Magazine Vol. 56, No. 346, August, 1844

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"'What, what, what? What's that you say?' cried Simon, squeezing his
empty money-bags. 'A ducat for every step! two for a hop! _Kremnitz_ or
_Dutch_, my dear old friend?'

"'_Kremnitz_, old gentleman, and full weight too!' replied the Dwarf.
'But,' added the little monster, 'about the head, Mike--what do you say,
am I to get it?'"

Simon put his hand to his hair--involuntarily.

"'Oh! I am no Turk, gossip!' said the fiddler. 'I sha'n't scalp you.
I'll gild every hair that you have on your crown; but your pate I must
have, or else I can say nothing about the ducats.'

"'But what do you mean to do with it, dear ducat--dear Klaus, I mean?'
asked the bewildered Mike.

"'That's my concern. I promise you not to hurt a hair; and your noddle
shall be kept warm enough,' added the creature with a hideous chuckle.
'I engage myself to that, by all the Kremnitz ducats in the world!'

"Hesitation seldom prospers. It was fatal to poor Mike. He couldn't
bring himself to answer. 'What,' he kept saying to himself--'what can I
want with my head when I am dead? What matters who gets it?'

"'Have you settled?' enquired the Dwarf. 'Don't keep me, Mike; there are
plenty of fellows who'll jump to get the ducats.'

"'Ducats! ducats!' continued Simon, still arguing with himself.--'What's
a dead head in a scale with ducats? Nothing at all!--precious ducats!
How many I have lost! one for a step, two for a hop. I had better close
the bargain!'

"'You won't have them, then!' exclaimed the Dwarf. "'Yes! Done--agreed!'
cried Simon eagerly. 'I'll consent, dear Klaus!' "'Very well!' replied
the Dwarf. 'We'll to business, then!'

"'You recollect the terms, dear gossip! One for a step, two for a hop;
and you are to have my head as soon as I die, and have no further use
for it. Now, play a very slow waltz, there's a good Klaus--very slow, if
you love me! Don't fiddle too long, and let the ducats come down
prettily!'

"The Dwarf made no reply; but simply laughed like a growling bear. He
cocked his fiddle under his chin, however, as quick as lightning;
scraped a little by way of timing, and then broke out. Klaus
Stringstriker had fiddled for a very few minutes before Simon was
springing about, and cutting such capers as no professional performer
had ever attempted, whilst the beams and rafters of the house quivered
again. The impoverished farmer held in his hands about twenty large
empty money-bags, which he grasped very tightly. It was quite wonderful
to see how at every caper, at every kick of the foot, there fell at
least two dozen real and true Kremnitz ducats, right down from his head
straight into the pockets. Down they came faster and faster, so thick
that before the dance was half over, the bags were all chokeful, and the
dancer himself hardly able to bear the weight of all his treasure. But,
mad with joy at the unexpected rushing back of all his wealth, he burst
into the wildest laughter, flung himself about like a lunatic, and
devoured with greedy gluttonous eyes the clinking, twinkling gold, that
in starry showers discharged itself around him.

"At the end of a short quarter of an hour, the bags were bursting in
Simon's hands. The Dwarf wriggled with delight, and played on--on--on;
and the old farmer, intoxicated and insane, jumped till his hoary and
fated skull struck against the ceiling. Now his joints cracked under the
weight of gold that he bore; but he could not put it from him, for the
bags stuck to his hands, as though they had grown to them. His strength
decayed; his thoughts languished. He tried to speak; but he could not
stammer out a word.

"'Gos-en-o, Kl-kl-oh-oh-oh'--

"The Dwarf kicked his feet with pleasure, and laughed again like a bear.
He never played in right earnest until now. He scraped with all his
might and main. Poor Twirling-stick Mike groaned, and his unhappy head
dropped exhausted upon his breast. Miserable man, his last capers were
cut! His dancing was no longer worth mentioning. He went up a little
way, like a baby's shuttlecock, and came down again feebly and dull. The
ducats poured out. The bags swelled; playing and dancing--dancing, such
as it was--went forward, and one terrible hour passed away. At last the
wrists of the farmer snapped asunder; his hands and the bags of gold
fell to the ground together. The dancer gave one desperate and
convulsive leap into the air. Klaus stopped his violin; and, in the next
instant, Simon lay dead upon the floor. Will it be believed that the
rascally Dwarf had fiddled every hair of the poor devil's head, and
brought them all down to his feet in the shape of ducats! Simon's skull
was as smooth and clean as if it had been shorn.

"The Dwarf put his fiddle up; quietly possessed himself of the
money-bags, and then grinned at the corpse before him.

"'Well, you old fool!' said he. 'Have I shaved your ugly jobber-nowl
clean enough? I don't want any of your tiresome barbers to do my work!
Are we quits, gossip? Can we wipe off the old scores yet, friend Simon?
No, no! We have something to do still! Let your boy look well to
himself, and get reconciled to my people whilst there is yet time!'"

* * * * *

Early in the morning, Simon was found lying dead on the floor. The
hairs of the unfortunate man, plucked out, and scattered over the
boards, in part confirmed the vehement declaration of the servants; viz.
that their master had wrestled with the devil, and had got the worst of
the bout. Young Klaus, however, shaken as he was by the unexpected
sight, at once guessed the true history. Returning home the night
before, from a nocturnal visit to his sweetheart, he had passed his
father's house, and here he had not only heard the playing of the
fiddler, but, looking through a crevice of the garret-door, he had
likewise discerned the very form of the Dwarf-spirit, and heard his
laughter, as well as the noisy leaping of his unhappy parent. In his
first grief at the frightful termination of his father's career, Klaus
hurled the bitterest execrations at the head of the revengeful
Stringstriker; cursed him over and over again, and himself no less, on
account of his plaguing, ghost-seeing faculty. Raving over the handless
body of Simon, he vowed at length, that if ever again the shadow of the
fiend crossed his path, he would double him up in a sack, and hang him
on the first tree that he came to.

This excited state of mind did not last very long with the volatile
youth; for, truth to say, the sudden dereliction of mortality on the
part of his quarrelsome old father, did not come altogether amiss to
him. What hindered him now from wedding the girl of his heart, and
leading as jolly a life as any? According to good old custom, he put on
his dress and looks of mourning, donned his three-cornered hat, pulled
it deep over his forehead, and walked decently and soberly up the
church-path to the parson's house.

'Reverend sir!' said the precious youth to the minister, 'the Lord has
been very gracious to my father, and this night he has taken him to
himself. May the Lord comfort us! If you please, reverend sir, he shall
be buried on Friday next; and I should like him to have a funeral
oration and a parentation. He was a good man, sir, and I know I shall
miss him at every turn and corner. But God's name be praised, sir, he
always sends us what's best!' And so saying, Klaus wiped the tears on
his eyes.

In due time old Simon was put under ground, and there was not a word to
be said by his many followers against either the deceased father or the
living son; for the latter gave a capital feast in honour of the
occasion, which, setting aside two bloody heads, passed off in the most
satisfactory manner. On the evening of the funeral, Klaus got very
impatient to look over his lawful inheritance. Bethinking him of the
avarice of his father, he had made up his mind to routing out no end of
wealth; for as to the old man's continual complaints and grumblings, he
had always looked upon them as so much flummery. To his great
astonishment and dismay, however, he found every chest and coffer empty.
Money-bags there were in plenty; but torn and moneyless, and the very
little ready cash that remained in the house was by no means sufficient
to satisfy the disappointed lawyers, whose bills, drawn out respectively
to the loss which they had suffered through the sudden demise of Mike,
were large enough, as you may believe.

This discovery and turn of affairs sensibly interfered with the
rejoicings of Klaus; and no wonder! For whilst he was still warm with
the idea of bringing his bride home to a well-stocked property, he had
to learn that he was actually as poor as a church-mouse. What could he
do? He was not long in forming a resolution. House and farm, field and
coppice, were in pretty good condition; no mortgages, as far as he knew,
cumbered the estate. Surely, till better times came, there would be no
difficulty in borrowing? At all events, the effort should be made. Klaus
went to Zittau to beg the loan of a thousand dollars from the trustees
of pious legacies. He stammered out his request to the board with as
much confidence as he could command; but whether his awkward way and
manner, or his unsteady look, or the wealth which it was supposed he
possessed, or the nickname which he bore--whether one or all of these
gave rise to suspicion and alarm, it is very certain that although
friend Nicholas received fine words enough to tear his pocket open, not
one farthing of money did he catch, but was fain to return home as rich
as he had come.

This was a heavy blow to the young farmer. As usual with him in seasons
of trouble, he thought of the Dwarf, and cursed him. Then he prayed for
a sight of the monster, only till he had wreaked his vengeance on him;
and then he went like a drunken man homeward. To his intense vexation,
as often as he relieved himself of an execration, his ear was assailed
with a scornful peal of laughter. It escorted him to his very door, and
there left him mad with rage, because he could by no means perceive
whence the mockery proceeded. Once at home again, he repeated the
rummaging of rooms, cellars, and corners, in the still unextinguished
hope of finding something, were it only paper bonds, of which he had
known his father, at one time, to possess several. His search availed
him nothing--the chests were empty--there was not an atom of money left.
As if this were not misery enough, he perceived, with inexpressible
grief, that the rafters of the house, the wainscoting of the rooms, were
beginning to totter and crack so fearful, that it would be impossible to
reside much longer beneath them. And oh, sorrow upon sorrow! those
unpleasant gentlemen, the lawyers, were daily asking payment, and
threatening an execution. Klaus grew very wretched. Breathing time, at
all events, was necessary, and so he sold the tavern and a considerable
portion of his land. With part of the proceeds he appeased the
blood-suckers; and with what remained, he purposed repairing his cracked
and rickety tenement.

Accustomed from his youth upwards to go to work with a full pocket, the
thrifty way of life to which he was obliged to conform, was any thing
but pleasant to him; but worse than all, and more difficult to support,
were the evidences of disrespect which poor Nicholas observed in the
conduct of the neighbouring farmers--and which every day became more
palpable. Before his poverty was known, as the son of his father, he had
been treated with some regard--and if folks did call him _Lying Klaus_,
it was more by way of joke than to give him pain. Now, however, the
neglect of him was bare-faced; and the meanest of the village learnt to
make their ill-natured remarks, and to fling his nickname over meadow
and field after him as he went. He was welcome nowhere--deserted and
forsaken on every side. Even in his work, he was the most unfortunate of
labourers. Ill-luck ever attended it. If he ploughed, either the
ploughshare would go to pieces, or the furrows would turn over so often,
that he could not stir. If he sowed in the serenest weather, when not a
breath of air was moving, a whirlwind would arise as soon as he had
begun, carrying the grain to some one distant spot, and rendering it
there perfectly useless. Sometimes he would find that he held a handful
of mere husks, and then if, in the bitterness of his soul, he began to
curse and tear his hair--he would all at once espy in those very husks--
eyes that fleered at him, whilst a horrible laughter echoed from every
side.

These were Klaus's out o' doors troubles. Those within were still
worse. His sound, strong horses perished one after another--till at last
he had nothing left in his stables but one old gaunt mare called
_Blaessel_. A distemper broke out amongst his horned stock, and before a
month passed, destroyed every thing in his stalls, with the exception of
an old goat and a gormandizing and insatiable porker.

A much more sedate man than Klaus would have been ready to jump out of
his skin in the midst of so much disaster. Once more he had recourse to
a sale. With a heavy heart he put up his inheritance, and with
inexpressible dismay he received the first buyers. Upon their close
inspection of house and farm, it soon became too apparent that the whole
of the woodwork was thoroughly worm-eaten, and, in the ground-floor,
destructive fungus hard at work. Those who came inclined to buy, shook
their heads and wished him good-morning: and in less than
four-and-twenty hours after their departure, every soul in the parish knew
that Lying Klaus was as good as a bankrupt; that his house was already
tumbling about his ears; and that he himself would be forced to go from
house to house, and practise the art of lattice-tapping.[1]

[1] The more ancient village houses have still, for the most part,
before the house door, a kind of _lattice_, upon which the beggar taps,
by way of announcing himself to the dwellers.

"Rumour in this case proved a true prophet. The end of the summer found
Klaus's homestead all to pieces. The wind whistled through the broken
windows. Rats frolicked about the floor: a lease of the rafters was
taken by a society of martens, and Klaus was left the choice of making
friends with the vermin, or being dislodged from his miserable den
altogether.

"When a poor man suddenly becomes rich, there is no lack of good words
thrown away; but when a rich man suddenly comes to beggary, all that is
said is--that he is a deplorable wretch--that everybody expected it--and
that it serves him right. Klaus led a horrid life. He was shunned by
universal consent. The youngest urchins of the parish threw dirt at him,
made faces, called him Lying Klaus, and trotted after him, imitating the
gait and gestures of an ill-conditioned dwarf. If Klaus entered the
tavern--so lately his own property--the boors shrunk from him as though
he were a leper--the landlord lazily shoved a dirty glass before him,
and looked at the piece of money which he got in exchange, a dozen times
before he put it into his till. The most abandoned criminal, who had
undergone his ten years of imprisonment and hard labour, could not have
been treated more ignominiously. Had Klaus not lived on in a sort of
mental intoxication, he must have committed murder or manslaughter, if,
in his desperation, he had not even laid unholy hands upon himself.

"All help cut away, every means of support dried up, and the beggar
denied even the bread of charity, Klaus at length resolved upon
abandoning his birthplace, and seeking his fortune in the open world. He
had all along carried on his stick trade without being able to earn even
salt to his porridge. A small piece of copse-wood, of little value, for
which he had been unable to find a purchaser, he could yet call his
own--the lean and bony Blaessel was also spared him. With sticks and
steed, therefore, he quitted his native place, and began to take his
rounds abroad, scarcely hoping to gather what was denied him amongst his
own people--a scanty pittance. It was little that poor Nicholas got to
break and bite upon his road; he made amends for the deficiency by
consulting the brandy flask, from which the deserted one sucked his
temporary solace. With the hot liquor in his head, he could whistle and
sing, forget his misery, and boldly face mankind.

"Late one evening, Klaus returned from a distant business tour. Blaessel
had not a leg to stand upon, Klaus himself had eaten nothing the whole
day, and he was besides parched with thirst. To satisfy the cravings of
nature, he stepped, unwillingly enough, into _The Sun_ at _Herwigsdorf_.
The parlour was full of boors, one of whom, in a gruff voice, read aloud
the Weekly Intelligencer, whilst the rest remarked upon its contents.
Klaus edged himself into a corner to avoid observation, and mine host
brought him, for his two or three pence, a very melancholy supper. The
reading came at length to a close, and the stage then became alive. The
farmers discussed and argued the news that had been delivered to them,
until they grew very warm, and had exhausted all their eloquence, when
they commenced knocking the table with their doubled fists, for want of
better arguments. In the height of the dispute, a neighbouring miller--a
very learned gentleman--entered the apartment. He was at once
unanimously appealed to for a decision, and then nobody would abide by
his verdict. A general tumult ensued; in the midst of it, unlucky Klaus
was detected, and then politics and the welfare of mankind were
immediately lost sight of.

"'Devil take me!' cried one, advancing towards the wretched man, 'If
there doesn't sit Lying Klaus from _Starving Castle_!'

"Klaus was surrounded in an instant. The whole assembly hooted him, and
he for shame and rage would gladly have buried himself for ever in the
earth.

"Well, I will say," continued the unfeeling boor, "the rich Klaus has
become the very careful and thrifty. I wonder if the churchwarden means
to give him the bell-purse money for ever!"[1] Well, Liar, how gets on
the stick trade? Will you soon be able to patch your coat out of your
earnings? If you happen now to have a sixpence more than you want, I
think we may do a little business together. I have some four-year-old
straw that will come in well for your palace. It is eaten away a little
by the mice, but that doesn't matter. Why, what are you thinking of,
you nincompoop? Don't you know when Klaus wants straw, or money, or an
honest name, he has only to go to his couch-grassed stubble-fields, and
sneeze three times into the Dwarf's wall, and then he gets directly
what he asks for? Who wouldn't have a Dwarf for his godfather! a fellow
just three cheeses high, and a fiddle-scrapper A pretty scrape he has
made of it for you--only scraped your precious soul into hell, as he
would have done if Holy Peter had bound it three times round his
key-bit. It is a great pity though, that Dwarf-piper don't fiddle money
into his darling's pocket, as well as out of it. Kick the blackguard
out, pull his ears for him--I say he isn't honest. He can't be, for he
has dealings with the devil!'

[1] The churchwardens go about the church during the service, and
collect alms from the congregation _in a purse with a bell_.--TRANSLATOR.

"Many sinewy arms were stretched out at the moment to grasp the weak
defenceless man, who sat gnashing his teeth, and awaiting the assault,
whilst in his heart he cursed himself and all the world besides. The
miller called upon the company to desist, and they retreated a stop or
two, whilst he stepped forth, and placed himself at the side of the
unprotected wanderer.

"'Come, come!' said the unexpected friend, 'this isn't fair. Klaus is a
very worthy fellow, though things are going against him, because, as I
believe, his old father bore too hard upon that imp Stringstriker. If
Klaus were only a clever fellow, and knew how to say a private word or
so to his godfather, he would soon make it all right with him again.
Dwarfs must be managed. Bless you, I have one in my own mill. Every
ninth night he hammers away on the twenty-first cog of the third wheel;
and as soon as he begins, three honey cells must be put upon the
millstone for him, if I don't wish the mill to stand still immediately,
and all the grain to breed worms. It is nothing but Dwarf's roguery, and
so I say let Klaus go quietly his way. I'll wager what you like, if the
fellow asks the Dwarf's pardon, and makes it up with him, he'll be as
rich as ever again. For you see, masters, Dwarfs must sometimes play all
sorts of pranks with poor mortals, that they may so have occasion to
help them at a future time, and secure for themselves a place in Heaven
at last.'

"This learned address so dumbfoundered the peasants, that they retreated
by degrees further and further from their intended victim, who, like a
shrewd fellow, seized his opportunity, and made his escape. He was not
long in harnessing his hack, mounting his cart, and driving from the
inhospitable spot. The words of the miller had made a deep impression on
his mind. The wish to hold communion by any means with the world of
spirits, which had been closed upon him from the moment that he had
hurled his curse against one of them--grew strong and lively within him.
His miserable condition subdued him into sorrow and repentance, and, in
a loud and earnest voice, he implored his godfather to take pity upon
him, to forgive him, and to show him the means by which he might be
reconciled again to _him_, and made worthy of the regard and
consideration of his people.

"He had reached _Hoernitz_ when his stricken heart indulged itself in
such outpourings. _Breiteberg_ arose at a short distance before him,
with the few acres of land that still belonged to him lying waste for
want of hands. Klaus threw a look of sullen discontent towards the land,
and lo--he beheld there the figure of the Dwarf gliding along, and
surrounded by countless sparkling lights. The lad stood still, and
stared with astonishment at the apparition. Dissevered tones, as of a
violin, floated in the disturbed air; and when the phantom lifted his
fiddlestick, it seemed as if he sent a recognising nod towards his
godchild. Klaus urged his beast forward, and at the same moment the
Dwarf turned off at a cross-road, and with the speed of an arrow swept
towards the neighbourhood of the Dwarf's well.

"Klaus lay awake half the night dwelling upon this encounter, and when
he fell to sleep, it was the subject of his dreams. 'The miller,'
thought he, 'is right, after all! Godfather may be pacified yet, if he
is properly and becomingly spoken to. How kindly he nodded to me! O, if
I could get only half my fortune back!' Before Klaus was out of bed
again, he resolved to have a trial, and, on the very next day, humbly to
present himself to his godfather, if that great personage would deign
him an interview. He had to go to the wood for sticks, and time and
place were both favourable to a meeting with the spirit.

"The road to the wood lay hard by the Dwarf's well. Klaus, arriving
there, reined his horse up, and looked upon the spring with profoundly
cogitative eyes. It was clear and still. Pearly bright the water
ascended from the rent basaltic bottom, and rippled in a small
thread-like rill through whispering rushes, across meadows and fields,
until it reached the village.

"'Now, this is the strangest well!' quoth Klaus, knocking out the ashes
from his short stump of a pipe--'always humming and brumming when I take
my way by it--and when I have passed it, it is just as though I had
loaded on another hundred-weight. The poor thing regularly gasps, and
plants her hoof as if she were pulling the church after her. Now, wo-ho,
Whiteface!--wo-ho!"

As Klaus spoke, the horse snorted, gasped, and stamped, without making
any way. It was as though the devil had tied a hair about the spokes.
After fearful struggling and long agony, the wood was at length reached.
Klaus fell manfully to work. A sheaf of young trees were presently down
before his axe. In the haste of the felling, he cut down some shrubbery,
of no use in the manufacture of twirling-sticks, but trees and shrubs
were heaped together on his cart; he stopped his pipe, and with
provision at least for the next week, he gaily pushed towards home.

"It was a fine warm evening of autumn. The moon stood in the cloudless
heavens above the blue hills, and the rich region lay in her splendour.
Klaus hummed a careless tune; smoked and hummed, hummed and smoked. In
the swampy marsh meadows to the right and left of him, number of social
frogs joined in the concert; the streams were steaming in the valleys,
and silvery mists strayed, catching the radiance, along the mountain
forests.

"'Wo-ho, Blaesse!' growled Klaus, as his favourite began to snort and
caracole. 'No shying, Whiteface! It is only the night-fog bubbling up a
bit. 'Twon't singe thy poor bones, wo-ho!' and then he cracked his whip,
and made it sing about the ears of the mulish beast. At the same moment,
a bright flame sprang up before him--but only like a flash of lightning;
for in an instant all was again hushed, dim, and lonely. The moon was
visible through the mist, and in Hoernitz the lights were seen
glimmering.

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