Légende d'Ulenspiegel. English Read online

  Ulenspiegel was delighted, and soon he was to become even more so,when he saw the donkey begin to run away, dragging behind him tent,tub, tent-posts and all, while the master of the tent, with his wifeand daughter, hung on behind the baggage. At last the donkey, beingable to go no farther, raised his nose in the air, and gave vent tobray after bray, a music that only ceased at those moments when hewas looking back under his tail to see if the fire that still ragedthere would not soon go out.

  All this time, the devout assembly in the tent were stilla-fighting. But the two monks, without troubling at all about whatwas going on inside, began to gather up the money that had fallenfrom the collection-plate, and Ulenspiegel assisted them devotedly,but not without some profit to himself....

  XI

  Now all this time that the vagabond son of the charcoal-burner wasgrowing up in merriment and mischief, the moody scion of His SacredMajesty the Emperor was vegetating like a weed in moody melancholy. TheLords and Ladies of the Court used to watch him as he mouched alongthe rooms and passages of the palace at Valladolid, a frail, pitifulspecimen of humanity, with legs that shook and scarce seemed ableto support the weight of the big head that was covered with stiffblond hair.

  He loved to haunt dark corridors, and he would stay sitting therewhole hours together, with his legs stretched out in front of him,hoping that some valet or other might trip over them by mistake; thenhe would have the fellow flogged; for he took pleasure in listeningto his cries under the lash. But he never laughed.

  Another day he would select some other corridor in which to lay asimilar trap, and once again he would sit himself down with his legsstretched out in front of him. Then one of the Ladies of the Court,mayhap, or one of the Lords or pages, would stumble across him;and if they fell down and hurt themselves, he took delight in theirdiscomfiture. But he never laughed. And if by chance any one knockedagainst him but did not fall down, he would cry out as if he had beenstruck. He liked to see the other's fright. But he never laughed.

  His Sacred Majesty was informed of these goings-on, and he commandedthat no notice should be taken of the child, saying that if his sondid not want people to walk over his legs he should not place hislegs in a position where they were liable to be walked over. Philipwas angry at this, but he said nothing and was no more seen, tillone fine summer day when he went out into the courtyard to warm hisshivering body in the sun.

  Charles, riding back from the war, saw his son thus brewing hismelancholy.

  "How now?" cried the Emperor. "What a difference there is between ustwo, my son! At your age I loved nothing better than to go climbingtrees after squirrels. Or, with the aid of a rope, to clamber down somesteep cliff to take young eagles out of their nests. I might easilyhave broken my bones at the game; but they only grew the harder. Andwhen I went out hunting, the deer fled into the thickets at sight ofme, armed with my trusty arquebus."

  "Ah, my Lord Father," sighed the child, "but you see, I have thestomach-ache."

  "For that," said Charles, "good wine from Paxarete is a most certainremedy."

  "I don't like wine. I have a headache, my Lord Father."

  "Then you should run and jump and play about like other children ofyour age."

  "I have stiff legs, my Lord Father."

  "And how should it be otherwise," said Charles, "seeing that youmake no more use of them than if they were of wood? But you shallgo riding on a high-mettled horse."

  The child began to cry.

  "Oh no, for mercy's sake! I have a pain in my back!"

  "Come, come," said Charles, "are you ill everywhere then?"

  "I should not be ill at all," answered the child, "if only they wouldlet me alone."

  "Do you think to pass your royal life away in dreams like ascholar?" the Emperor asked impatiently. "Such people as that, ifindeed it be necessary for the inking of their parchments, may rightlyseek out silence, solitude, retirement from the world. But for thee,son of the sword, I would desire warm blood, a lynx's eye, a fox'scraft, and the strength of Hercules. Why do you cross yourself? Bloodof God! What should a lion's cub be doing with this mimicry of womenat their prayers!"

  "Hark! It is the Angelus, my Lord Father," answered the child.

  XII

  May and June that year were in very truth the months of flowers. Neverhad Flanders known the hawthorn so fragrant, never the gardens so gaywith roses, jasmine, and honeysuckle. And when the wind blew eastwardsfrom England it carried with it the breath of all this flowery land,and the people, at Antwerp and elsewhere, sniffed the air joyfullyand cried aloud:

  "How good the scent of the wind that blows from Flanders!"

  Then it was that the bees were busy sucking honey from the flowers,making wax, and laying their eggs within the hives that were all toosmall to house the swarms. What workman's music they made, under thatcanopy of azure sky that was spread so dazzlingly over the rich earth!

  The hives were made of rushes, straw, osiers or of wattled hay. Andthere the bees, like clever basket-makers, lined and tunnelledthe hives with their beautifully fitting tools. And as for thebread-makers, this long time past their numbers were scarce sufficientfor the work they had to do. In a single swarm there would be as manyas three thousand bees and two thousand seven hundred drones! Thequality of the comb was so exquisite that the Dean of Damme dispatchedeleven combs to the Emperor Charles out of gratitude for the newedicts that had revived in Flanders the earlier vigour of the HolyInquisition. It was Philip, forsooth, that ate them all; but littlegood did they do him!

  But in Flanders, the rascals of the roads, the beggars and vagabondsand all that lazy good-for-nothing crowd who would risk hanging ratherthan do a day's work, were soon enticed by the taste of the honey tocome along and steal their share. And by night they prowled aroundthe hives in gangs. Now Claes had made some hives for the purposeof attracting the wandering swarms of bees, and some of these hiveswere full already, but there were others that stood empty waiting forthe bees. Claes kept watch all night to guard this sugary wealth ofhis; and when he was tired he asked Ulenspiegel to take his place,the which Ulenspiegel did right willingly.

  It was a cold night, and Ulenspiegel to avoid the chill took refugein one of the hives, curling himself up inside, and looking out fromtwo openings that had been made in the roof of the hive.

  Just as he was going off to sleep, he heard a rustle in the bushyhedge near by, and then the voices of two men. They were thieves,no doubt, and peering forth from the openings aforesaid, Ulenspiegelsaw that they both had long hair and long beards, which was strange,for a long beard is usually the sign of a nobleman. However, the twomen went peering from hive to hive, and coming at last to the one inwhich Ulenspiegel was hiding, they tried its weight, and then----

  "Let us take this one," they said. "It is the heaviest."

  Whereupon they slung it up between them, on a couple of poles, andcarried it off. Ulenspiegel did not at all fancy being thus cartedaway in a hive. But the night was clear, and the two thieves marchedalong with never a word. When they had gone about fifty paces theywould stop to take breath, and then set off again. The man in frontgrumbled angrily all the time at the weight of his burden. And theman behind whined in a querulous fashion. Even so are there alwaysto be found two sorts of idle fellows in this world, those who areangry at having to work, and those who merely whine at having to.

  Ulenspiegel, since there seemed nothing else to do, took hold of thehair of the man in front and gave it a pull. And he did the same to thebeard of the man at the rear; and to such purpose that the two men soongrew annoyed at what was happening, and Mr. Angry said to Mr. Whining:

  "Hi there, stop pulling my hair, you, or else I'll give you such awhack on the head that it'll squash down into your chest, and thenyou'll be looking out of your two sides like a thief through theprison grille!"

  "I should never think of doing such a thing as to pull your hair,"said the whiner. "But what are you doing there, pulling at my beard?"

  To which Mr. Angry made a
nswer:

  "It isn't I that would go hunting for fleas in the wool of a leper!"

  "O sir," said the whiner, "for goodness' sake don't go shaking thehive about like this. My poor arms cannot support it any longer."

  "I shall shake it out of your arms altogether," said the other. Thenunloading himself, he placed the hive upon the ground and fell uponhis companion. And so they fought together, the one cursing, and theother crying out for mercy.

  Ulenspiegel, hearing the sound of blows, came out from the hive,dragged it behind him into the wood close by, and having placed itwhere he could find it again, returned to Claes.

  And thus you may see what sort of a profit it is that thieves derivefrom their quarrels.

  XIII

  As he grew up, Ulenspiegel acquired the habit of wandering about amongthe fairs and markets of the country-side, and whenever he hit upon aman who played the oboe, the rebec, or the bagpipes, he would offer hima patard for a lesson in the art of making those instruments to sing.

  He became especially accomplished in the art of playing the rommelpot,an instrument which is constructed out of a round pot, a bladder, anda straight piece of straw. And this is the way he played it. First ofall he moistened the bladder and held it over the pot. Then he drewthe centre of the bladder round the joint of a straw which itself wasattached to the bottom of the pot. Finally he stretched the bladderas tightly as he dared over the sides of the pot. In the morning,when the bladder was dry, it sounded like a tambourine when struck,and if one rubbed the straw it gave forth a humming sound as finein tone as that of any violin. And Ulenspiegel, with his musicalpot that played music like the baying of a mastiff, went out withthe other children on the day of Epiphany carrying a star made ofluminous paper, and singing carols.

  Sometimes an artist would come to Damme to paint the members of oneof the Guilds, upon their knees. Ulenspiegel was always anxiousto see how the artist worked, and he would beg to be allowed togrind the colours in return for nothing but a slice of bread, threeliards, and a pint of ale. But while he worked away at the grindinghe would carefully study the method of his master. When the artistwent away Ulenspiegel would endeavour to paint pictures like him;and his favourite colour was scarlet. In this way he tried to paintthe portraits of Claes, of Soetkin, and of Katheline and Nele, aswell as those of the pots and pans in the kitchen. When Claes beheldthese works of art he predicted that if only he worked hard enoughUlenspiegel would one day be able to earn florins by the dozen forpainting the inscriptions on the festal cars, or speel-wagen as theyare called in Zeeland and the land of Flanders.

  Ulenspiegel also learnt to carve in wood and in stone, for once amaster-mason came to Damme to carve a stall in the choir of NotreDame. And this stall was made in such a way that the Dean--who was anold man--could sit down when he so desired, yet seem to all appearanceas if he were still standing upright.

  It was Ulenspiegel too who made the first carved knife-handle everused by the people of Zeeland. He fashioned this handle in the formof a cage. Inside was a death's head that moved; and above it a houndcouchant. And this was the signification: "Soul true till death."

  Thus it was that Ulenspiegel began to fulfil the prophecy thatKatheline had made when she said that he would be painter, sculptor,workman, nobleman, all in one. For you must know that from father toson the family of Claes bore arms three pint pots argent au naturelon a ground bruinbier.

  But Ulenspiegel would stick to no one profession, and Claes told himthat if he went on in this good-for-nothing way he would chase himout of the house.

  XIV

  On his return from the wars, the Emperor wanted to know why his sonPhilip was not there to welcome him.

  The Archbishop--the royal Governor--said that the child had refused toleave his solitude and the books which were the only things he loved.

  The Emperor asked where he was to be found at the moment. The Governordid not know exactly, but said they had better go and look for himsomewhere where it was dark. This they did.

  When they had looked through a good number of rooms they came at lastto a kind of closet, unpaved and lit only by a skylight. There theyfound a stake stuck into the ground, and a dear little monkey boundto the stake by a cord round the waist. (Now this monkey had beensent from the Indies as a present to His Highness to amuse him withits youthful gambols).... Round the bottom of the stake were somesmoking sticks still glowing, and the closet was filled with a foulsmell as of burning hair.

  The poor animal had suffered so much pain while being burnt to deaththat its little body no longer looked the body of a living animal,but seemed rather like the fragment of some root, all wrinkled anddistorted. And its mouth, still open with the death-cry, was filledwith froth mixed with blood; and the face was wet with tears.

  "Who has done this?" said the Emperor.

  The Governor did not dare to answer, and the two men stood theresilent, sad, and angry.

  All at once, in the silence, there was heard a sound of feeble coughingthat came from a corner in the shadow behind them. His Majesty turnedand beheld Philip, his son, dressed all in black, sucking an orange.

  "Don Philip," he said, "come and greet your father."

  The child did not move, but gazed at his father with timid eyes thatshowed no spark of love.

  "Is it you," asked the Emperor, "who have burnt alive in the firethis little animal?"

  The child bowed his head.

  But the Emperor: "If you have been cruel enough to do such a deed,at least be brave enough to own up to it."

  The child made no answer.

  His Majesty seized the orange from the child's hands, threw it to theground, and was about to beat his son, who was shaking with terror,when the Archbishop restrained him, whispering in his ear:

  "The day will surely come when His Highness shall prove a mightyburner of heretics." The Emperor smiled, and the two of them went away,leaving Philip alone with the monkey.

  But others there were, not monkeys, that were destined to meet theirdeath in the flames....

  XV

  November was come, the month of hail-storms, when sufferers from coldin the head abandon themselves freely to their concerts of coughingand spitting. This also is the month when the turnip-fields arefilled with gangs of youths that there disport themselves and stealwhatever they can, to the mighty wrath of the peasants, who try invain to catch them, chasing after them with sticks and pitchforks.

  Well, on an evening when Ulenspiegel was returning home from one ofthese raids, he heard close by, in a corner of the hedgerow, a soundas of groaning. He leant down, and beheld a dog lying stretched outon the stones.

  "Hallo!" he cried. "Poor little beast! What are you doing out hereso late at night?"

  He patted the dog, and found that its back was all wet, as though someone had been trying to drown it. He took it in his arms to warm it,and when he had reached home he said:

  "I have brought back a wounded animal. What shall we do with it?"

  "Dress its wounds," said Claes.

  Ulenspiegel laid the dog on the table; whereupon he and Claes andSoetkin saw that it was a little red-haired Luxemburg terrier, and thatit was wounded in the back. Soetkin sponged the wounds, and anointedthem with ointment, and bound them up with linen bandages. ThenUlenspiegel took the dog and put it in his bed; but Soetkin desiredto have it in her own, saying she was afraid that Ulenspiegel wouldhurt the little red-haired thing. For in those days Ulenspiegel waswont to toss about in his sleep all night like a young devil in astoup of holy water. Ulenspiegel, however, had his way, and he tooksuch care of the dog that in the space of six days it was walkingabout like any other dog, and giving itself great airs.

  And the village schoolmaster christened him Titus Bibulus Schnouffius:Titus after a certain good Emperor of the Romans who was fond ofbefriending lost dogs; Bibulus because the dog loved beer with allthe passion of a confirmed drunkard; and Schnouffius because he wouldalways run about sniffing and putting his nose into every rat-holeand mole-hole he
could find.

  XVI

  The young prince of Spain was now fifteen years old, and his custom wasto wander about the rooms and passages and stairways of the castle. Butchiefly was he to be found prowling around the women's quarters,trying to pick a quarrel with one of the pages, who themselves werewont to lurk on the look out, like cats, in the corridors; whileothers, again, out in the courtyard, would stand singing some tenderballad, nose in air. When the young prince heard one singing thus,he would show himself at one of the windows, and the heart of thatpoor page would be stricken with fear as he saw that white face there,instead of the gentle eyes of his beloved.