# Foreign Tales and Traditions/Volume 1/The Dwarf and the Invisible Cap

Original story not identified.
THE DWARF
AND THE INVISIBLE CAP
A HARZ LEGEND.
Shepherd Jacob’s greatest pleasure was his bagpipes. Almost before the morning dawned he was puffing upon them, and he puffed away at night when all other honest people were in bed. Though this afforded much pleasure to Jacob, it was not so well-relished by his neighbours.
In a cavern of the mountain upon which Jacob generally took his seat lived a dwarf, who, at the christenings and weddings of the surrounding country, made himself very useful by lending the people knives and pewter plates. Wherever he found a good reception, the dwarf proved very friendly, and was well liked by all. Now to this dwarf, the eternal puffing that went on above his head became very tiresome; he therefore one day took his way up the mountain, and with much politeness requested the shepherd to give up his music for a little; but Jacob, casting a contemptuous look on the diminutive figure before him, insolently answered: “What right have you to command me? And what does it signify to me though your head should ache again when I blow my pipes?” And from that time Jacob blew away more furiously at his bagpipes than ever.
The dwarf resolved on revenge; but concealed his anger under the mask of friendship, and strove to win by degrees the confidence of the shepherd. He soon succeeded in this; ​for he had wit enough to praise the exquisite melody of his pipes, and gradually wrought himself into his full confidence, entertaining him with a thousand merry stories, for the sake of listening to which the shepherd would sometimes forget his darling pipes for half a day. At last the dwarf invited the shepherd to a party at which he promised him a great deal of pleasure. “Knight Fegesack, who lives in yonder castle,” said he, “celebrates his wedding to-morrow; he once set his dogs after me to hound me from his court when carrying some plates to his servants to help at a christening. All those great people who look with such contempt upon us and our acorns, will be gathered together yonder; we will go thither if you choose, and give them a little sauce to their mirth. Here, Jacob, is an invisible cap; if you put it on your head, nobody will be able to see you, though you see every thing that is going on around you. Try its virtues at home, and leave the rest to me; only clean out that bag you have got there, for, unless I am sadly deceived, you will soon have occasion to fill it with something better.”
Jacob took the wonderful cap from the dwarf, and made an attempt to try its virtue even before he reached the hut. Well, the sheep came running against him, and not even his own children could find him out, when he called them by name with the cap on his head. He now gave himself implicitly up to the dwarf’s directions.
The day afterwards, Jacob and the dwarf set out with their caps on their heads, and two empty wallets under their arms, to the castle of the knight. During the bridal ceremony they placed themselves upon the large round table, around which the bridegroom and bride and the principal guests were to sit. The dwarf then instructed the tittering shepherd in the part he was to perform.
In the course of an hour the whole company entered the room in pairs, and all took the places which were pointed out to them according to their several dignities, little suspecting the presence of any other guests.
​And now the frolic began. The invisible dwarf pulled out the pins which fastened the myrtle garland on the bride’s head, and Jacob pushed a large dish out of the hand of the butler which splashed the gravy over the guests; meanwhile the bridal wreath fell from the head of the bride—a bad omen, which might well wrinkle the brows of the old ladies, and set the younger ones a whispering.
A pause ensued, in which the guests, who waited the filling of the bumpers to resume the conversation, set their jaws briskly in motion.
But, good saints defend us! what was the surprise of the whole company, when, on the appearance of the second course, scarcely had they got a morsel on their forks and raised it to their mouths, ere it was snatched away by the dwarf or by Jacob, who crammed it with much laughter into their invisible wallets. The guests opened their eyes wider and wider,—their faces lengthened more and more,—a silence like that of midnight in a cemetery, reigned throughout the whole room,—knives, mouths, jaws, were laid at rest, while each gaped in blank astonishment upon his neighbour. Flagon after flagon, cup after cup, now disappeared from the table, and still the thief remained invisible! Well might the hair of the guests now begin to rise on end; every where all was silent as death,—not a sound was heard but the chattering of teeth.
How they might best make their way out of the enchanted room, or hide themselves under the table, was now the question with the horror-stricken guests. Most of them were about to adopt the latter alternative, when, the dwarf having suddenly snatched the cap from the head of his companion, all at once the culprit stood revealed to their astonished sight, sitting upon his heels, with each arm supported by a well-filled wallet.
The death-like silence now gave place to the most outrageous uproar; every arm and every tongue was again in motion, while Jacob, with his head hanging down like a broken ​reed, was dragged away, amid a thousand curses, towards a dark noisome dungeon, there to starve beside his emptied wallets.
They are just about to lower the unfortunate shepherd into this loathsome place, and all around stand the guests mocking and jeering the trembling rustic,—when lo! the invisible dwarf approaches his half-dead companion, claps the cap again on his head, and in the twinkling of an eye the prisoner disappears.
The spectators stood there as if changed into as many stones, with faces as long as a yard, for the full space of an hour, without bethinking themselves either of eating or drinking, or the merriment of the wedding. And there they might have been standing to this hour, had not the dwarf, compassionating their blank amazement, taken off his cap and revealed himself for a minute’s space in his true form. “Now, Sir Knight,” said he, “do not hound me again with your dogs out of your castle-yard; and you, Jacob, I hope you will in future put your bagpipes a little while aside, when I politely ask that favour of you.”
The guests now tumbled over one another, and scrambled out of the house where the mysterious dwarf had appeared, in the greatest consternation.
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