Part 3

“We’ll all be no better than donkeys,” sobbed another. “I know we shall.”

So after a long chat, it was proposed that a delegation should wait on the king of the fairies, to ask him to call a convention of all his subjects, of every sort and kind, to see what could be done in the matter. It would not do to let things go on at this rate, or there would not be one fairy left; but all would become servants, slaves, or beasts of burden for human beings. They might even make the fairies wear iron clothes, so they should have no freedom, except as their masters willed: and, even women would be their bosses.

They agreed unanimously to hold the Congress, or Convention, at Kabouterberg, or the Hill of the Kabouters, near Gelrode. All promised to lay aside their grudges, and forget all social slights and quarrels. Even the sooty elves, from the deep mines, were to be given the same welcome and to be treated with the same politeness, as the silvery fairies of the meadows, that were as fresh as flowers and sparkling as sapphires. It was agreed that none should laugh, even if one of the Kluddes should try to talk in meeting.

The invitations were sent out to every sort of fairy known in Belgium, from Flanders to Luxemburg, and from the sandy campine of Limburg, to the flax fields of Hainault. Over land and sea, and from the bowels of the earth, from down in the coal and zinc mines, to the highest hill of the Ardennes, the invitations were sent out. Not one was forgotten.

Of course, not every individual fairy could come, but only committees or delegations of each sort.

It would be too long a story to tell of all who did come and what they said and how they behaved; but from the secretary of the meeting, the story-teller obtained the list of delegates. The principal personages were as follows:

Honors were paid first to the smallest. These were the Manneken, or little fellows. They stood not much higher than a thimble, but were very merry. The Manneken had triangular heads, and their eyes always twinkled. They were very much like children, that do not show off before company, but are often very bright and cunning, when you do not expect them to be.

Their usual occupation was to play tricks on servant girls and lads, milkmaids, ostlers, farmers and the people that lived in the woods or among the dunes. The general tint of their clothes and skin was brown. Sometimes people called them Mannetje, or Darling Little Fellows. They and the rabbits were great friends.

Next came our old friends, the Kabouters, whom we have met before. Living down in the earth, and in the mines, and always busy at forge fires, or in coal or ore, they were not expected to come daintily dressed. They seemed, however, to have brushed off the soot, washed away the grime, and scrubbed themselves up generally. Too much light seemed to disturb them and all the time they kept shading their eyes with their hands. The majority were dressed in suits, caps, and shoes of a butternut color. Each one was about a yard high. They were cousins to the Kobolds of Germany.

The Klabbers were easily picked out of the crowd, by their scarlet caps, and because they were dressed in red, from head to foot. Most of them had green faces and green hands. They were very polite and jolly, but sometimes they appeared to be surly and snarlish, according to the moods they were in, but more especially because of the way they were treated by others. It is said that there was more of human nature in these fellows, than in any other kind of Belgian fairies. These Klabbers, or Red Caps, were somewhat taller than the Kabouters.

There were not many of the Kluddes, for these clownish fellows, who lived in the Campine, among the sand dunes, or by the sea shore, or loafed along country roads, or by the side of ditches, with no good purpose, hardly knew how to behave in the company of well bred, or even decent fairies. Even the Kabouters, not one of whom owned a dress coat, or a fashionable gown, had better manners than the Kludde rascals, whose one idea seemed to be to tumble farmers’ boys into the ditches. They had no originality, or variety in their tricks, beyond the single one of changing themselves into old “plugs,” or broken down horses; and they possessed no more powers of speech, than cows or cats, that say “moo” and “miouw.” They could understand the talk of the other fairies, but could not themselves speak, having no tongues.

When a fairy stood up that was fluent, and entertaining, and made a good speech, these sand snipes applauded so loudly, and kept on crying “Kludde” so noisily—the only word they knew—that the president of the meeting had to call them to order. He sternly told them to be silent, or he would have them put out. Notwithstanding this, they kept on mumbling, “Kludde, Kludde” to themselves.

The Wappers were out in full force, or at least a dozen of them. At first they sat folded up, like jackknives; and all occupying one place together, like a lot of beetles; but when the place of meeting got crowded, by others wanting their room, the Wappers stretched themselves out and up, until they looked like a crowd of daddy longlegs, with their long, wiry limbs and their heads and bodies up in the air. They were told not to talk gibberish, except among themselves; but to address the chair, and speak in meeting only in correct and polite fairy language, which even then had to be interpreted.

No jokes or tricks, such as the different kinds of fairies play on human beings, were allowed during the meeting of the Congress.

Two big, fairy policemen, called Gog and Magog, dressed in the colors of the Belgian flag, black, yellow and red, were posted near the door, to make all Kabouters, Kludde, Wappers and Mannekens, behave. If any member of the Congress got too “fresh,” or obstreperous, he was immediately seized and thrown out of doors.

Both the policemen’s clubs, which were longer than barbers’ poles, were made of Flemish oak, wrapped round with black, yellow and red ribbons. Besides these bludgeons, each carried at his belt a coil of rope, to bind any of the big fairies that might give trouble.

No wash or bath tubs, aquariums, hogsheads, or barrels, having been provided, nor any salt water being at hand, there were no mermaids or mermen present.

No ogres or giants came, for it could not be found that any of these big fairy folk lived in the Belgium of our time. Formerly, they were very numerous and troublesome, not only to men and women, but even to the pretty and respectable fairies.

As for old Toover Hek, and his wife, Mrs. Hek, they had never been heard of, or from, for hundreds of years. Much the same report concerning dragons was given by the registrar, or secretary, who knew all about the different kind of Belgian fairies.

At the name of a certain mortal, Balthazar Bekker, the Dutch enemy of all fairies, every one hissed, the Kabouters howled, the Wappers banged tin pans, and the Kludde yelled. One fairy proposed the health of Toover Hek, as an insult to Bekker’s memory, but this was voted down as an extreme measure. Then it was suggested that the memory of Verarmen of Hasselt be praised, but those present in the Congress, being modern fairies, cared nothing about anything so far back.

As for the regular attendants at the Congress, they were many and interesting, and some were very lovely; yet, altogether, they were much, in their looks and manners, like the fairies in other countries; so that there is little advantage to be gained in describing them, or their dresses and ornaments. Some had wings, some had not. They looked very gauzy, and most of them were as tiny as babies, but there were some larger ones also.

One of the first laws passed at the Congress was a Foreign Fairy Exclusion Law! This was done at the suggestion of a member of the Kabouters’ Guild, who was afraid the Belgian fairies would be ruined by the cheap labor imported from other countries, like Ireland or Bulgaria.

It was also unanimously decided that no foreign fairies, even if they applied for membership, or wanted to attend as visitors, should be admitted to the Congress. So all the German kobolds, English brownies and nixies, Japanese oni, the French fee, Austrian gnomes, and the Scotch and Irish fays and fairies, of any and all kinds, were kept out. Though these might envy the fairies of Belgium, and their happy lot, they could not even sit as delegates, or be allowed the usual courtesies due to visitors.

This the story teller heard afterwards, when a fairy maiden let out the secret of this, one of the proceedings of the Congress, after they had gone into executive session! She just couldn’t keep a secret, that’s all!

“And why do we not report especially more of what was said and done behind the closed doors, or tell about the social side of the Congress,” does any one ask. Or why does he not tell more about the amusements, the receptions, and the fine clothes of the prettiest fairies?

Well, the American man was vexed enough, when the president of the Congress ordered all human beings and strangers of every sort to leave the house, and then locked the door, so that everything was done in secret.

This was the only time in Belgium, that the story-teller was not courteously treated. Yet the reason is plain. The President and secretary were both afraid that this tourist, who had really, many times visited Belgium, just to get better acquainted with the fairies, was a prude, who didn’t believe in letting children know anything about fairies. In other words, he was suspected of wanting to abolish all books of fairy tales from the libraries.

But you know better.

V

THE OGRE IN THE FOREST OF HAZEL NUTS

Ages ago, in the gloomy forests of Limburg, there lived a roaring giant named Toover Hek. Although the forest was so dense, yet there were many paths through it, for there was no other way of getting across from Germany, into Belgic Land and France and Holland. Toover Hek, the man-eating giant, or ogre, used to wait, where the paths crossed each other, or diverged, and here he would waylay travelers, seize them and run away with them, and, with his ogre wife, devour them in his cave.

This ogre, Toover Hek, roamed the woods and ate up all the people he could catch, who traveled that way. Terrible tales were told about his vrouw, also, who was reported to be even more cruel than her big husband. It was said that she was a cousin of another ogre, Hecate, who had once lived further east, in Greece. Both had been driven out by the holy saints, and had come into Belgic land, where one of them married the man-eating giant, Toover Hek.

Sometimes the children called this big fellow the Long Man, because he was so tall, and had such very long legs. In the local dialect, this became “Lounge Man,” which means the same thing.

One day, his ogre wife found some honey in the forest and brought it to him. He smacked his lips and always after that called his wife his Troetel, or Honey Bunch.

The first inhabitant of the country was a farmer, named Heinrich. He was a doughty fellow, who was not afraid of ogres or giants. He had long lived among people who celebrated the kermiss, but with such drunken brutality and coarse indecency, that he was disgusted, and went into the forest to live. Heinrich’s one weakness was pea soup, and his wife thought with him and rode the same hobby. All her neighbors said that she made the best and thickest pea soup in Limburg. Heinrich believed pea soup to be both food and luxury. He thought also that water and milk, and good soup, were all the liquids nature intended ever to pass the human throat.

Finding that the soil was fertile, and that plenty of hazel nuts would fatten his pigs, Heinrich trudged with his wife Grietje (Maggie), far into the hazel forest. He swung his axe diligently, chopped down the trees, and built a rough house of wood. This he made his home, and named it Hasselt.

Soon his goats, pigs, and chickens so multiplied that it was hard to keep them out of the house. So Grietje persuaded her husband, Heinrich, to saw the door in halves and put them on two sets of hinges. This was called a hek, or heck-door, after the name usually given to the feed-rack in the barn or stable.

In this way, the upper part of the door, when open, let in light and air, and the house was kept looking sweet and cheerful. The lower part of the door, or the heck, when shut, kept out the goats, pigs, and chickens.

Leaning over the top of the lower half, the good vrouw could throw out grain to feed the ducks, geese, pullets, hens, and roosters, and toss many a tidbit to the piggies. Farmer Heinrich was so pleased with this idea of a double door, that kept his wife in good humor, that he would always call on it to witness some act of his. He would even swear by this demi-door, as if it were something sacred or important.

So his wife often heard him say “By heck, that’s a fine hazel-nut,” or “By heck, what a fat pig!” or, “By heck, that pea soup is good!” and many such like expressions.

Being so extravagantly fond of the thick pea soup, which Belgians like so much, Heinrich planted a large pea patch. Every day, he went out to see how his vines were growing. When his crop was ready to be gathered, he had, besides having enjoyed a daily dish of green peas, or a good basin of thick pea soup, enough of the legumes dried, to furnish his table with thick pea soup, all winter long. He cultivated all the varieties of peas then known. The early, medium, late, and the wrinkled, smooth or split peas were, at one time or another, on his table.

One evening, after a day’s work with the axe, in the forest, Farmer Heinrich came home to tell his wife about a terrible ogre, of which he had caught a glimpse, that day, on one of the hills across the valley. This monster carried an enormous fir tree club.

Heinrich seemed very much disturbed and talked volubly to Grietje. He wound up his description of the Long Man, as he called him, by adding at the end of every sentence, “By heck, he is tall; a real Toover Hek; and, by heck his club was a big one.”

Now Heinrich and his vrouw feared that they could not defend themselves from the giant, if he should seek them out. Yet they did not propose to become mincemeat for an ogre. Far from it. The man knew that Toover Hek had a big stomach, that could hold a half a hogshead full of food; and that, after all, he was very much like a man; and that the best way to divert or fool him, was by aiming at his stomach. Their surest defense would be in having a barrel of thick pea soup, kept ready and hot, for him. Fill his stomach, and he would forget everything else; for, like a pig, he thought first and last of something to eat. Whenever they saw Toover Hek coming, they could warm up the soup quickly, and set it out on the doorstep. Then they would bolt the heck door and put a notice outside inviting the ogre to help himself to the free lunch.

They also planned to drive all the cattle, pigs, goats, and poultry into the barn and lock the animals up. Of course, they would make no noise, for the roosters and hens would think it was night, and go to roost, and the four footed creatures to sleep.

In fact, these two Limburgers went on the idea that the bigger the ogre, the less brains he would have, inside his brain pan. It was the way of Dame Nature, the woman argued; that, what she put into a creature’s body, she took out of his skull, whether it were a dragon, a bull, a monkey, or a giant. She didn’t add “a man,” but she probably meant it. Everybody knows that a smart girl, or a nimble princess, was often more than a match for a giant, and could usually outwit even a man.

It turned out, just as Heinrich and Grietje expected, and had planned. One day, when the farmer was far out in the fields, pulling up the vines of an old pea-patch, and grubbing up the soil to plant new ones, Grietje, the vrouw, saw Toover Hek, at a distance, coming down the hill, straight for their cabin.

At once, she set the boiler on the fire, to heat up the pea soup. Then she ran out and shooed the chickens, drove the cows into the barn, pulled the goats inside, and locked the door.

Then she poured out the hot, thick, pea soup, into the barrel outside, hung a dipper near by, for invitation, and shut and bolted both leaves of the heck door. Peeping through the keyhole, she could see the big fellow strutting forward. He was puffing, and blowing, after his long tramp.

Toover Hek seemed to sniff the good stuff from a distance. He laid down his big club, which was made of a whole fir tree, and coming up to the pea soup barrel, poked out his tongue and tasted the thick soup. He smacked his lips in glee, making such a noise, that Heinrich, in the distant pea patch, thought it had thundered.

The ogre paid no attention to the ladle; and, it may be, he did not see it; but, with both hands, lifting up the whole barrel of soup at once, he gulped it down, as if it were only a cupful. Then rubbing gleefully the region of his swelled out stomach he licked his chops, and soon walked off, without hurting anything, not even a toad.

Heinrich and Grietje were in high spirits over all this, and congratulated each other, on not being inside Toover Hek’s stomach and on their apparent escape from further danger.

But next day Toover Hek came again. Happily, the barrel of thick pea soup was again ready for him, and once more he swallowed it all down; finishing his lunch by thrusting out his tongue, which Grietje declared was a yard long, and giving a thunderous lick to his chops. Then he strode off, to tell his ogre wife, about his good luck.

But she only scolded him, for not bringing home a nice juicy boy, a plump girl, a fat woman, or even a skinny man, tough as he might be; for such a tid-bit would taste better than her every day meal of roots and berries and wild animals. As for her part, she was real hungry. She was so tired of Limburger cheese, as a steady diet. And, besides, she liked the strong smell of it, even less than she used to. She thought he was an auroch or a bear; and at last she called him a wild boar, for not thinking of her, and bringing home to her at least a bucketful of pea soup. How could he forget her!

In the home of Heinrich, there was trouble also. How could they keep up the supply of a whole barrel of thick pea soup every day for months?

For, although one might outwit an ogre, and play the sort of a trick, which must bamboozle his stupid brain, there was no telling what he might do, when matters referred to his stomach, and when there was no more thick pea soup, to divert him from the pigs and chickens; or, what he liked best, human beings. Heinrich feared that Toover Hek would soon eat him out of house and home and then proceed to make a meal of him and his vrouw; and finish up with his fowls and live stock.

“But there’s no use trying to thin out the soup, and save peas. He’ll find it out, and then he’ll smash everything with his big club,” said Heinrich to Grietje, after she had suggested economy, with more water and fewer peas, and then, when all the peas were gone, mock turtle or cabbage soup.

Heinrich, being a man, knew that it was not safe to play tricks with a hungry giant, when his stomach was empty. “A man and an ogre are about the same, when it comes to his appetite,” he argued. He went on to say: “You could not do it with a farmer, and how was it to be done with an ogre? No, Toover Hek must be given either thick pea soup, or else he would eat them all up.” And at this, Heinrich pounded on the table, with his fist. He loved his wife, but he wanted her to understand that he was boss; but she only laughed inside, and knew she could “wrap him round her little finger,” when she wanted to—the dear old donkey.

Now it happened just when his bin was empty, and the last bushel of peas had been scraped out, to make thick soup, and Toover Hek had again swallowed a barrel full, that these first inhabitants of Hasselt, Heinrich and Grietje, his wife, were saved from the ogre, in an unexpected way.

How did it come to pass?

Well a brave knight, who had heard of Heinrich’s troubles, and had got tired of rescuing princes from dragons, and dungeons, and cruel uncles and old witches, hied him to the Forest of Hazel Nuts. He was just spoiling for a fight with an ogre. So he made a vow to the Holy Virgin that if she would help him, he would make the paths safe for travelers. Coming into the woods, near Hasselt, early one afternoon, he waited until old Toover Hek had already had his daily gulp of thick pea soup, and felt sleepy, and much like taking an afternoon nap. The ogre was so full, that he could not walk fast, or move about easily. Then the knight knew that he would be “carrying his head under his armpit,” that is, his wits were out.

The truth was, that old Toover Hek was half afraid to go home, and tell his wife that he had forgotten her again and had drunk up all the soup, before he thought of her, and what she had told him. He wished now that he had taken home a pail full; but he soon got over this spasm of conscience, and felt dull and stupid. Indeed he looked as if he were hunting round, for a good, soft place to take a nap in.

As soon as the knight noticed this, he flew at him with his trusty sword. He avoided his big club, which came down with a crack, hurting nothing, but only knocking off some hazel nuts, and making a big dent in the ground.