# The Allies' Fairy Book/The Last Adventure of Thyl Ulenspiegel

THE LAST ADVENTURE OF THYL ULENSPIEGEL
BelgianUlenspiegel and his wife Nele, always young, strong, and beautiful, since love and the spirit of Flanders never grow old, lived peacefully in the Tower of Neere, waiting for the wind of liberty to rise, after so much cruel suffering, and blow upon the land of Belgium.
Ulenspiegel had begged to be appointed commandant and keeper of the Tower, saying that as he had the eyes of an eagle and the ears of a hare, he would be able to see if the Spaniard should attempt to reappear in the liberated provinces, and then he would sound the “wacharm,” which in the Flemish tongue means the alarm.
The magistrate granted his request, and for the good service he had done he was given a florin a day, two pints of beer, beans, cheese, biscuit, and three pounds of meat a week.
Thus Ulenspiegel and Nele lived in ease together; seeing afar with great joy the liberated islands of Zeeland, meadows, ​woods, castles and fortresses, and the armed vessels of the “Beggars” guarding the coasts.
Often at night they went up on the top of the Tower, and seated on the platform they would talk of fierce battles and happy loves past and yet to be. Hence, they looked down at the sea, which, in the warm summer weather, broke in shining ripples of foam along the shore, throwing them upon the isles like phantoms of fire. And Nele trembled when she saw over the “polders” the will-o’-the-wisps, which are, they say, the souls of the poor dead. And all those places had been battlefields.
These will-o’-the-wisps flitted from the polders, and ran along the dikes: then they returned to the polders, as if loath to leave the bodies from which they had come. One night Nele said to Ulenspiegel: “See how many of them there are in Dreiveland, and how high they are flying; I see most over the Isle of Birds. Will you come there with me, Thyl? We will take the balm that shows things invisible to mortal eyes.”
Ulenspiegel replied:
“If it is that balm which made me go to the great Sabbath, I have no more faith in it than in an empty dream.”
“You must not deny the power of charms,” said Nele. “Come, Ulenspiegel.”
“I will come.” The next day he asked the magistrate for a keen-eyed and faithful veteran to act as his substitute, to guard the Tower and watch over the country. Then he set out with Nele for the Isle of Birds. Making their way through fields and by dikes they saw little verdant islets, encircled by the waters of the sea, and on grassy hills that reached as far as the dunes, innumerable plovers and seagulls, which, keeping quite motionless, made as it were white islands with their bodies; thousands of these birds were flying overhead. The ground was ​studded with nests. Ulenspiegel, bending down to pick up an egg, saw a seagull flying towards him, uttering a cry. At this call, over a hundred came, uttering cries of distress, hovering over the head of Ulenspiegel, and over the neighbouring nests, but not daring to come too close to him.
“Ulenspiegel,” said Nele, “these birds are asking us to spare their eggs.”
Then, beginning to tremble, she said:
“I am afraid; the sun is setting, the sky is white, the stars are waking, this is the hour of spirits. See the red vapours that are rising from the ground! Thyl, my beloved, what monster of hell is opening his fiery jaws thus in the twilight? Look how the will-o’-the-wisps are dancing over Philipsland, where twice the bloodthirsty king put so many poor creatures to death to satisfy his cruel ambition; it is at night that the souls of poor men who fell in battle quit the cold Limbo of Purgatory, and come to warm themselves in the mild air of earth; this is the hour when we may ask anything of Christ, who is the God of good magicians.”
“The ashes of Claes lie on my heart,” said Ulenspiegel. “Would that Christ could show us those Seven, whose ashes, scattered on the wind, would make Flanders and the whole world happy.”
“Man of little faith,” said Nele, “the balm will enable you to see them.”
“Perhaps,” said Ulenspiegel, pointing at Sirius, “if some spirit should come down from that cold star.”
Whereupon a will-o’-the-wisp fluttering round him lighted on his finger, and the more he tried to shake it off the closer it clung.
Nele, going to the help of Ulenspiegel, also got a will-o’-the-wisp on her hand.
Then Ulenspiegel, striking at his, said:
“Answer! Art thou the soul of a ‘Beggar’ or of a ​Spaniard? If thou art the soul of a ‘Beggar,’ go to Paradise; if thou art that of a Spaniard, return to the hell whence thou earnest.”
Nele said to him:
“Speak not harshly to the souls of the dead, even if they be the souls of our executioners.”
And making her will-o’-the-wisp dance on the tip of her finger:
“Will-o’-the-wisp,” she said, “dear will-o’-the-wisp, what news do you bring from the land of the spirits? How do they busy themselves there? Do they eat and drink, seeing they have no mouths?—for you have none, dear will-o’-the-wisp. Or do they take human form only when they enter into the blessed Paradise?”
“How,” said Ulenspiegel, “can you waste your time talking to that wretched flame which has neither ears to hear nor mouth to answer you?”
But Nele, heeding him not, spoke again:
“Will-o’-the-wisp, answer me by dancing, for I will question thee three times, once in the name of God, once in the name of the Blessed Virgin, and once in the name of the elemental spirits, who are the messengers between God and man.”
And this she did, and the will-o’-the-wisp danced three times.
Then Nele said to Ulenspiegel:
“Take off your clothes, and I will do likewise; here is the silver box containing the balm of sight.”
“It’s all the same to me,” said Ulenspiegel.
Then they took off their clothing, anointed their bodies with the balm of sight, and lay down side by side on the grass.
The seagulls moaned; the thunder muttered in clouds whence flashed the lightning, the moon showed the golden horns of her crescent but dimly between two clouds; and ​Ulenspiegel’s and Nele’s will-o’-the wisp went off to dance with the rest in the meadow.
Suddenly Nele and her lover were seized by the huge hand of a giant, who tossed them up in the air like children’s balls, caught them again, rolled them one upon the other and kneaded them in his hands, threw them into the pools between the hills and pulled them out all covered with seaweed. And as he thus whirled them through space, he sang in a voice that roused all the seagulls in terror:
“Read, Flea, the mystery!
Read, Louse, the sacred word
Which in air, sky, earth
By seven nails is anchored!”
And indeed, Ulenspiegel and Nele sa,w on the grass, in the air, and in the sky, seven tablets of shining brass fastened by seven flaming nails. And on the tablets was written:
“Sap germinates in dunghills;
Seven is bad, but seven is good.
Diamonds issue out of coal:
Stupid doctors have wise pupils:
Seven is bad, but seven is good.”
And the giant went along, followed by all the will-o’-the- wisps, chirping like crickets, and saying:
“Look at him well, he is their great Master,
Pope of Popes, King of Kings;
He takes Caesar out to graze.
Look at him well, he’s made of wood.”
Suddenly his features changed, he seemed thinner, great and mournful. He held a sceptre in one hand and a sword in the other. His name was Pride.
And throwing Nele and Ulenspiegel to the ground, he said:
“I am God.”
Then, beside him, mounted on a goat, appeared a ruddy-faced girl, with bare breast, her gown thrown open, her
​eyes sparkling; her name was Lust; she was followed by an old Jewess picking up the shells of the seagulls’ eggs; her name was Avarice; and a gluttonous monk, gobbling chitterlings, cramming himself with sausages, and gulping incessantly like the sow on which he was mounted—he was Gluttony; then came Sloth, dragging along, pale and puffy, with lack-lustre eyes, chased by Anger, who drove her with a goad—Sloth wept and lamented, and fell on her knees, overcome with fatigue; then came lean Envy, with a viper’s head and pike’s teeth, biting Sloth because it was too leisurely, Anger because it was too lively, Gluttony because it was too replete, Lust because it was too red. Avarice because of the shells, and Pride because of his purple robe and crown. And the will-o’-the-wisps danced around.
And speaking with the plaintive voices of men, women, maidens, and children, they said, moaning:
“Pride, father of ambition, Anger, source of cruelty, ye slew us on the battlefield, in prisons and by torture, to keep your sceptres and your crowns. Envy, thou didst kill the germs of many noble and beautiful thoughts, we are the souls of persecuted inventors; Avarice, thou didst turn the blood of the poor into gold, we are the spirits of thy victims; Lust, companion and sister of Murder, the mother of Nero, Messalina, and Philip, King of Spain, thou buyest virtue and rewardest corruption, we are the souls of the dead; Sloth and Gluttony, ye defile the world and must be swept from it; we are the souls of the dead.
“Sap germinates in dunghills;
Seven is bad, but seven is good.
Stupid doctors have wise pupils;
How can the vagabond louse contrive
To have both coal and cinders?”
And the will-o’-the-wisps said:
“We are fire, the avengers of the ancient tears and pains of the poor; we take vengeance on the lords who hunted ​human game upon their lands; we are the avengers of useless battles, of the blood shed in prisons, of men burnt alive, of women and maidens buried alive, the avengers of a past of blood and chains. We are fire, we are the souls of the dead.”
At these words the Seven were changed into wooden statues, without losing their original forms.
And a voice said:
“Ulenspiegel, burn this wood.”
So Ulenspiegel turned to the will-o’-the-wisps and said: “You who are fire, fulfil your mission.”
And the will-o’-the-wisps surrounded the Seven, who were burnt and reduced to ashes. And a river of blood began to flow.
Then from the ashes came forth seven other figures; the first said:
“I was called Pride, I am now noble Courage.” The others spoke in like fashion, and Ulenspiegel and Nele saw Economy rise from Avarice, Vivacity from Anger, Appetite from Gluttony, Emulation from Envy, and from Idleness, the Meditations of poets and philosophers. And Lust, on her goat, was changed into a fair woman whose name was Love.
And the will-o’-the-wisps danced round them joyously. Ulenspiegel and Nele then heard thousands of gleeful, sonorous voices of hidden men and women, singing to a sound as of castanets:
“When over earth and sea
These Seven reign transformed,
Men, lift up your hands
For the happiness of the world will have arrived.”
And Ulenspiegel said: “The spirits are mocking us.” Then a mighty hand seized Nele by the arm and hurled her into space.
And the spirits sang: ​
“When the North
Shall kiss the sunset
That will be the end of ruins:
Seek the girdle.”
“Oho!” said Ulenspiegel, “North? Sunset? Girdle? You talk in riddles, gentle spirits.”
Then they sang gleefully:
“North is Holland;
Belgium is West;
Girdle is alliance,
Girdle is friendship!”
“You are wise, gentle spirits,” said Ulenspiegel. Then again they sang gleefully:
“The girdle, poor dear,
Between Holland and Belgium
Will be woven of friendship,
A fair alliance.
Met raedt
En daedt
Met doodt
En bloodt
So would it be,
Were it not for the Scheldt,
Poor dear, were it not for the Scheldt!”
“Ah!” said Ulenspiegel, “such is our lamentable lot! The tears of men and the laughter of Fate!”
“Alliance of blood
And of death,
Were it not for the Scheldt.”
answered the spirits laughingly.
And a mighty hand seized Ulenspiegel and hurled him into space.
​Nele, as she fell to the ground, rubbed her eyes and saw only the sun rising in golden mists, the blades of grass all tipped with gold also, and the sunbeams gilding the plumage of the sleeping seagulls, so that very soon they woke.
Then Nele looked at herself, and seeing she was naked, she dressed herself hastily; then she saw Ulenspiegel, also naked, and covered him! Thinking he was asleep, she shook him, but he lay like one dead, and she was seized with fear. “Have I,” she said, “killed my beloved with this balm of sight? I too will die! Ah! Thyl, awake! He is cold as marble!”
Ulenspiegel did not wake. Two nights and a day passed, and Nele sat and watched her lover in feverish grief.
Now early on the second day, Nele heard the tinkle of a bell, and saw a peasant carrying a spade; behind him walked, taper in hand, a burgomaster and two sheriffs, the parish priest of Stavenisse and a beadle holding a parasol for him.
They were going, they said, to administer the Sacrament of Extreme Unction to the worthy Jacobsen, 'who had become a “Beggar” from fear, but who when danger was at an end, had returned to die in the bosom of the Holy Roman Church.
Presently they came face to face with the weeping Nele, and saw the body of Ulenspiegel stretched on the grass, covered with his garments. Nele fell on her knees.
“Daughter,” said the burgomaster, “what are you doing beside this dead man?”
Not daring to lift her eyes, she answered:
“I am praying for my beloved, who fell here as if struck by a thunderbolt; I am alone now, and I would fain die also.”
Then the priest rejoiced, saying:
“Ulenspiegel the ‘Beggar’ is dead, praise be to God. ​Peasant, dig a grave with all speed; take off his clothes before burying him.”
“No,” said Nele, rising; “they shall not be taken off, he would be cold in the earth.”
“Dig the grave,” said the priest to the peasant who was carrying the spade.
“So be it,” said Nele, weeping; “there are no worms in the sand and lime, and my beloved will remain fair and whole.”
And bending over Ulenspiegel’s body, she kissed him distractedly with sobs and tears.
The burgomaster, the sheriffs and the peasants were touched, but the priest ceased not to exclaim joyfully:
“The great ‘Beggar’ is dead, praise be to God!”
Then the peasant dug the grave, laid Ulenspiegel in it and covered him with sand.
And the priest said the prayers for the dead over the grave; all knelt round it; suddenly there was a great movement under the sand, and Ulenspiegel, sneezing and shaking the sand from his hair, seized the priest by the throat.
“Inquisitor!” he cried, “you were burying me alive in my sleep! Where is Nele? Have you buried her too?
Who are you?”
The priest cried aloud:
“The great ‘Beggar’ has come back to life! Lord God, receive my soul!” And he ran like a stag before the hounds.
Nele came to Ulenspiegel:
“Kiss me, beloved,” he said.
Then he looked round him again. The two peasants had fled like the priest, throwing spade, chair, and parasol on the ground to run the better; the burgomaster and the sheriffs, stopping their ears in terror, lay groaning upon the grass. ​Ulenspiegel went to them, and shaking them, he said:
“How can you bury Ulenspiegel, the spirit, Nele, the heart of Mother Flanders? She too may sleep, but she cannot die. Come, Nele.”
And he went his way with her, singing his sixth song; but none know where he sang the last.
the end
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