Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 56, No. 346, August, 1844

'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 Blässel. 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.52

"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 Blässel 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. Blässel 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!"53 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!'

"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 Hörnitz 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, Blässe!' 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 Hörnitz the lights were seen glimmering.

"'Oho!' thought Klaus, 'godfather is lighting his pipe, is he? We shall soon see, then, how the world wags with him. Hollo! Godfather Stringstriker, be good and kind to your child, and show yourself. Tell me, dear godfather, how I am to fill my money-bags again; for you know who had the emptying of them! There's a nice dear old gentleman, come out to me—I do so long to see you!'

"It was all very proper for Klaus to evince such amiability, but it had not the effect intended. Not a sound could he hear in reply. He waited for a space; then bellowed again into the open air—waited again, and holloed again. But all was quiet save the water of the spring which purled amongst the pebbles, and the grassy reeds that rustled and sighed through the mist, now reeking thicker and thicker around the speaker and his sorry jade. Klaus waxed spiteful.

"'Godfather!' he cried, striking poor Whiteface in his wrath, 'thou art a thick-lipped, crooked-legged lubber; that's what you are! Every question is worth an answer; it is a rule that holds good with man and beast; and why not amongst ghosts? Why did you beckon to me yesterday if you did not mean to show? You invited me here, and now that I have come, the tortoise creeps into his hole. You are a cruel, hard-hearted godfather. But never mind—good-night, Dwarf-piper Here's a present for thee. I bear thee no malice!'

"So speaking, Klaus threw a pocket-knife into the well, which he passed at the moment. The knife dropped into the water; a flame shot suddenly up, and was as quickly out. Klaus pressed his nag again; but the poor beast reared, snorted, and dragged at the gearing, without being able to move the cart an inch. The fog severed a little, and the moonbeams lay in great beauty upon a hundred acres. Klaus attempted to give his animal ease; but let Whiteface tug as she would, the cart stood still as if it had been frost-bound.

"'That ugly thick head of godfather's has certainly caught amongst the felloes," said Klaus, almost worried to death, and looking about him half-curiously, half-timorously. It wanted very little to pitch him backwards out of the vehicle, so astonished and affrighted was he with all that he beheld. The ghost-seer had seen many sights, but this beggared them all. His cart, in length and breadth, was covered with millions of dwarfs; every fir-spray, every dark green spike of a leaf, every pole, nay, even wheels and wheelspokes to the nave itself, were beset with the creatures. And what were they all about? Tiny, miraculous beings! labouring with unexampled diligence at the prettiest dancing-pumps ever seen! The Lilliput shoelings glistered like Spelt in the tiny brown hands of the workmen, as, turned to and fro, they came under the numerous and almost invisible hammers and awls. Every brilliant pair finished, and out of hand, was briskly strung up on cobwebs, with which the cart, vaultwise, was overwoven; and upon which, at the very first glance, Klaus himself could count more than three hundred thousand finished shoes. The astounded waggoner could for a long time do nothing more than fold his arms, and stare on in silence. The little rogues looked inexpressibly comical, it must be confessed. They were exactly half an inch in length, with great thick heads, on which were fixed leathern-coloured caps, at least six times the size, every one being decorated in front, by way of clasp, with a tiny glow-worm. Their legs were very slender and very crooked, although their feet were delicate and beautifully formed. Their little bodies, endowed in excess with high shoulders, were clad in fine dark-brown satin jackets, and about the waist were girdles of glistening silver, from which jingled the needful workman's apparatus. As soon as one of the little fellows had to hammer a sole, he adroitly tucked round his left leg, and, upon his tiny heel, beat out the bit of leather into order.

"'This must be profitable work any how!' quoth Klaus, breaking out at length, and, at the instant, the busy workers raised their headikins, and goggled so drolly at the young boor, that the latter was seized with a laughter which he found it impossible to control. The Dwarfs were set off also, and for some time they roared together; that is to say, Klaus roared, but the voicelets of the Dwarfs sounded only like a light whisper. Their laughing, however, did not prevent the smoking of their twirling-stick pipes, which they seemed to take much delight in; each Dwarf, it must be known, carrying in his mouth the strangest little twirling-stick, the four little arms of which reeked like pipe-heads.

"'If it is quite allowable, gentlemen!' said Klaus, taking off his hat— a politeness which was immediately responded to by every dwarf—'I should be glad to have a minute's chat with you; and to ask, first and foremost, for whom all this tremendous stock is that you are finishing off so busily and magnificently?'

"One of the cordwainers fastened the shoe that he had just finished, close before the young boor's eyes, upon the cobweb; then he folded his arms in imitation of Klaus, stared at him roguishly, and answered,

"'They are dancing-pumps for thy wedding, Klaus!'

"'For my what?' exclaimed the youth.

"'Thy wedding, Klaus!'

"'Ah, my pretty shoemakers, that's a long way off, I fear. Annie has no great longing to milk the spiders in my stalls, and who can blame her? But who gave you the order? Who took the measures? I guess our Marthas and Marys will want a considerable shoe-horn to get the pumps on, if the greater number don't prove misfits!'

"The Dwarfs laughed and clapped their hands for joy, nodding to one another with such vivacity, that the glow-worms upon their bonnets flew one amongst another.

"'Don't believe it, gossip—don't believe it,' rejoined the spokesman. 'We work for ourselves only. We mean to dance at thy wedding—every one of us, regularly one after the other, with thy virtuous bride."

"'What! all of you?' asked Nicholas, hurriedly.

"'All, all! as many of us as there are pairs of shoes!'

"'Thank you for nothing!' returned Klaus. 'Why, you would make me a widower before my wedding was over. Annie is a good strapping girl I know, and she carries her bushel of winter wheat, in defiance of Geordie, the miller's man, up three flights without stop or sigh; and that, from old time, has always been with us a sign of sound lungs: but a man can't drink, my little cobblers, beyond his thirst. You understand? Now would it not be better—mind you I am much obliged to you for the honour, all the same—if you sent a few delegates, say two or three; wouldn't that be more considerate to the lady, and show your politeness just as well?'