# Foreign Tales and Traditions/Volume 1/The Magician

Original story not identified.
THE MAGICIAN
A HARZ STORY.
In a small town which possessed the right of holding criminal courts, there was once a famous Magician caught, the country being at that time infested with such sort of people. He had been forced to make a free confession of his crimes by torture; and therefore the court found itself at full liberty to sentence the wicked wretch to be burned alive.
The day fixed upon for the execution drew nigh; the pile stood already erected before one of the gates, and all the inhabitants of the adjoining country were impatiently awaiting the arrival of the hour of execution, for the little town had never been so dull and desolate as for some months before. During all that period they had neither drowned a single witch, nor even flogged a pickpocket: so the whole country had been longing for an execution to diversify the monotony of their existence, and now hands and feet got enlivened, and for several days all who could wag their tongues talked of nothing but the burning of the Magician, and all who could move their limbs skipped twice a-day round the pile.
Well, the great day arrived. Long before dawn hundreds of small waggons came pouring into the city from fifty miles of the surrounding country, and swelled the numerous company who had arrived the night before and were spending the time till the hour of execution in various gossip. With daybreak all was crowd and bustle in the town; and in less ​than half-an-hour streets and houses were deserted, and the large field around the pile so crowded with spectators, that had one tossed an apple into it, it could not have reached the ground. Every eye was fixed upon the pile, and upon the motions of the executioner and his assistants; while from time to time a distant observer heard a loud noise resembling the rushing of the storm through a pine-wood, caused by the rustling of the crowd, which again sunk down into an awful silence.
During one of these pauses a gloomy whispering was neard,—deep gravity spread over every face,—and after the lapse of some minutes, a universal shout arose, “The Magician has escaped!”
Nobody could believe it,—nobody could think it possible,—yet every one shouted it the louder for his disbelief, and thousands were about to run off to storm the prison: for was it not quite insufferable thus to have their excited expectations deceived,—to have been kept awake the whole night for nothing!—to have endured hunger and thirst, and all for nothing!
A wild outcry of fury and rage was already heard throughout the field, when the judges made their appearance, and partly to confirm the sad news that the impatient criminal had not chosen to await his burning, and partly with the prudential motive of saving themselves from a shower of stones, desired the whole assembly to pursue the Magician, who must undoubtedly, as they affirmed, still be lurking about the neighbourhood, and could not escape the scrutiny of so many thousand eyes. They also invited the whole assembly to attend on the following day at a still more solemn execution of the wizard.
In the twinkling of an eye the whole crowd were in motion, galloping over and against one another with as much confusion as ever distracted Babel. Not a few were induced by the mischances they met with to desist from the chase, and took their way back to the town in no very good hu​mour, though not quite without hope; but hundreds of them scattered themselves over the country in search of the Magician.
The constables well-provided with arms hastened, according to orders, towards a wood where it was thought the criminal could most easily hide himself. On the road thither they met a man with a long beard, whom they at first took for a wandering Jew, and accompanied part of the way to learn if he could give them any information about the Magician. Hereupon the stranger showed them a bow and an arrow, and assured them that he never failed in shooting with them, and could with these weapons keep off a thousand enemies. The constables stared upon him, and fancying that they could perceive the features of the Magician under the mask of the Jew, began to tremble in all their limbs; the wish to lead him back in triumph to the town struggled with their fear of the enchanted arrow; but all of them fell a few inches aside at every step, and thus a wide circle was gradually formed around the pretended Jew.
He looked around him and discovered a falcon soaring high in the air above him; it now appeared like a little black speck in the heavens, but he bent his bow and presently the bird fell, transfixed by the arrow, into a marshy ditch all overgrown with thorns. “Fetch me the falcon and my arrow!” called he out with a commanding voice to the constables, who hesitated long, but at last the terror with which his voice inspired them conquered, and one of them proceeded with faltering steps towards the place where the bird lay. Whilst he was yet picking his way over the marsh, the archer drew a little whistle out of his pocket and commenced playing a waltz, when lo! the poor fellow began to waltz about, and stretched out his hands as if to invite his companions, who stood gaping in astonishment upon him, to join him! Presently they all rushed like mad people into the marsh, where they danced and waltzed till their senses reeled, and their hands and feet were grievously torn by the ​briers. Often they implored the Magician to spare them, and to allow them a little respite; and at last, when their strength was nearly utterly exhausted, he ceased to play, and they left-off dancing.
All breathless, and exhausted they crept out from among the thorns and the marsh; but one of the constables had sufficient presence of mind left, secretly to carry off the arrow and the bird along with him.
The archer received them laughing; he now wore another beard and garment, and no longer seemed a Jew, but in truth the very Magician they were in search of: “Do you not know me?” inquired he. “You were all active enough, however, in torturing me; and this morning you would doubtless have been very well pleased to have assisted at my burning. The pile is yet standing, and you wish to prepare for to-morrow the feast which has been spoiled in the cooking to-day; well, I will return with you, provided you will promise to dance to my whistle, for I suppose you are come to fetch me back.”
The constables could not deny it; but declined very earnestly the honour of invitation to the dance. Their protestations were, however, of no avail; the Magician took his whistle, and they felt themselves constrained to obey. Fortunately he was this time content with playing a slow Polonese, and thus they escaped skin-free for the present.
When they reached the field before the town, the Magician greeted the executioner, who, happy at the return of the Magician, but not without considerable sensations of alarm, made what arrangements he could, by beckonings and signs, to prevent the criminal again escaping.
The Magician mounted the pile, and sat very contentedly down upon it; upon which the constables hastened, as fast as their weary feet could carry them, into the town to proclaim the unheard of news, their own great deeds, and the deliverance of the country. They proceeded, attended by a ​crowd of many thousands to the court-house, where the tribunal was yet assembled, and with loud complaints brought forth fresh accusations against the knave, who, in their persons, had affronted the whole citizens. They were complimented on their good services—the arrow was placed as a corpus delicti among the criminal proceedings,—and as there seemed to be some difficulty in keeping the rogue in prison, it was resolved to fire the pile without farther delay: especially as the auspicious burning of the Magician had been already engrossed in the protocol of the proceedings as having happened that day, and, according to an ancient and wise law, nothing which had once been recorded could be afterwards altered in any wise.
Three councillors marched in solemn and high judicial array, to the pile, with the constables, preceded by the assistants of the executioner, bearing burning torches, and followed by all the people who had remained in the town, in expectation of the issue.
When they approached the gate they heard from afar a shouting as of ten thousand tipsy people; and soon, oh marvellous! their own feet began to skip under them, and skipping they went out at the gate, and saw a numberless crowd of spectators, every instant swelled by the crowds which streamed towards them, all leaping with the greatest exertion around the pile.
Upon the pile stood the Magician—to whose whistle they danced—beating time with his feet. All danced who had feet to dance,—children, and grandmothers,—and grave-looking men who never had dreamed of dancing in their lives before,—and old men, and nuns, and noble knights, and fishwomen—all in the most motley crowd. Sometimes the Magician led them through a reel, and sometimes through a waltz,—now he allowed them to recover breath in a minuet,—and presently he set them a-dancing with increased vigour at a Swabian jig or a Cosaque; even the executioner and his assistants were footing it upon the pile it​self, and streams of perspiration flowed down their limbs at every saut perilleux.
The torch-bearers also approached dancing, their leader incessantly calling out:
“Lack-a-day! Lack-a-day! Did not I say: “‘Let not the rogue take his whistle away!’”
“Bravo! Bravo!” shouted the Magician, making a short pause in his playing—welcome relief to the feet of the dancers—when he saw the van approaching with the torches intended to light the pile: “Bravo! Bravo! Now comes the torch-dance. Courage! Courage! The torch-bearers first; and after them every one of you according to his dignity! Only a few hours more of it! But you must sing also.”
Instantly all the thousands who were dancing around the Magician began to sing:
“Lack-a-day! Lack-a-day! Did not I say: “‘Let not the rogue take his whistle away!’”
“Da Capo! Da Capo!” exclaimed the remorseless Magician; and every body screamed and danced, and danced ​and screamed, till one sank here, and another there, perfectly exhausted, and yet again leaped up and danced more furiously than ever.
Forgotten was prison and execution. They danced till deep in the night, and in the morning—each one lay groaning in his bed,—and Magician, and arrow, and pile had vanished!
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