THE KABOUTERS AND THE BELLS
HEN the young queen Wilhelmina visited Brabant and Limburg, they amused her with pageants and plays, in which the
little fellows called kabouters, in Dutch, and kobolds in German, played and showed off their tricks. Other
small folk, named gnomes, took part in the tableaux. The kabouters are the dark elves, who live in forests and
mines. The white elves live in the open fields and the sunshine.
The gnomes do the thinking, but the kabouters carry out the work of mining and gathering the precious stones
and minerals. They are short, thick fellows, very strong and are strenuous in digging out coal and iron,
copper and gold. When they were first made, they were so ugly, that they had to live where they could not be
seen, that is, in the dark places. The grown imps look like old men with beards, but no one ever heard of a
kabouter that was taller than a yardstick. As for the babies, they are hardly bigger than a man's thumb. The
big boys and girls, in the kabouter kingdom, are not much over a foot high.
 What is peculiar about them all is, that they help the good and wise people to do things better; but they love
to plague and punish the dull folks, that are stupid, or foolish or naughty. In impish glee, they lure the
blockheads, or in Dutch, the "cheese-heads," to do worse.
THE MASTER OF THE CHOIR TRIED AGAIN AND AGAIN.
A long time ago, there were no church spires or bells in the land of the Dutch folks, as there are now by the
thousands. The good teachers from the South came into the country and taught the people to have better
manners, finer clothes and more wholesome food. They also persuaded them to forget their cruel gods and habits
of revenge. They told of the Father in Heaven, who loves us all, as his children, and forgives us when we
repent of our evil doings.
Now when the chief gnomes and kabouters heard of the newcomers in the land, they held a meeting and said one
to the other:
"We shall help all the teachers that are good and kind, but we shall plague and punish the rough fellows among
So word was sent to all little people in the mines and hills, instructing them how they were to act and what
they were to do.
Some of the new teachers, who were foreigners, and did not know the customs of the country, were very rude and
rough. Every day they hurt the feelings of the people. With their axes
 they cut down the sacred trees. They laughed scornfully at the holy wells and springs of water. They reviled
the people, when they prayed to great Woden, with his black ravens that told him everything, or to the gentle
Freya, with her white doves, who helped good girls to get kind husbands. They scolded the children at play,
and this made their fathers and mothers feel miserable. This is the reason why so many people were angry and
sullen, and would not listen to the foreign teachers.
Worse than this, many troubles came to these outsiders. Their bread was sour, when they took it out of the
oven. So was the milk, in their pans. Sometimes they found their beds turned upside down. Gravel stones
rattled down into their fireplaces. Their hats and shoes were missing. In fact, they had a terrible time
generally and wanted to go back home. When the kabouter has a grudge against any one, he knows how to plague
But the teachers that were wise and gentle had no trouble. They persuaded the people with kind words, and,
just as a baby learns to eat other food at the table, so the people were weaned away from cruel customs and
foolish beliefs. Many of the land's folk came to listen to the teachers and helped them gladly to build
 More wonderful than this, were the good things that came to these kind teachers, they knew not how. Their
bread and milk were always sweet and in plenty. They found their beds made up and their clothes kept clean,
gardens planted with blooming flowers, and much hard work done for them. When they would build a church in a
village, they wondered how it was that the wood and the nails, the iron necessary to brace the beams, and the
copper and brass for the sacred vessels, came so easily and in plenty. When, on some nights, they wondered
where they would get food to eat, they found, on waking up in the morning, that there was always something
good ready for them. Thus many houses of worship were built, and the more numerous were the churches, the more
did farms, cows, grain fields, and happy people multiply.
Now when the gnomes and kabouters, who like to do work for pleasant people, heard that the good teachers
wanted church bells, to call the people to worship, they resolved to help the strangers. They would make not
only a bell, or a chime, but, actually a carillon, or concert of bells to hang up in the air.
The dark dwarfs did not like to dig metal for swords or spears, or what would hurt people; but the church
bells would guide travellers in the
 forest, and quiet the storms, that destroyed houses and upset boats and killed or drowned people, besides
inviting the people to come and pray and sing. They knew that the good teachers were poor and could not buy
bells in France or Italy. Even if they had money, they could not get them through the thick forests, or over
the stormy seas, for they were too heavy.
When all the kabouters were told of this, they came together to work, night and day, in the mines. With pick
and shovel, crowbar and chisel, and hammer and mallet, they broke up the rocks containing copper and tin. Then
they built great roaring fires, to smelt the ore into ingots. They would show the teachers that the Dutch
kabouters could make bells, as well as the men in the lands of the South. These dwarfish people are jealous of
men and very proud of what they can do.
It was the funniest sight to see these short legged fellows, with tiny coats coming just below their thighs,
and little red caps, looking like a stocking and ending in a tassel, on their heads, and in shoes that had no
laces, but very long points. They flew around as lively as monkeys, and when the fire was hot they threw off
everything and worked much harder and longer than men do.
Were they like other fairies? Well, hardly.
 One must put away all his usual thoughts, when he thinks of kabouters. No filmy wings on their backs! No
pretty clothes or gauzy garments, or stars, or crowns, or wands! Instead of these were hammers, pickaxes, and
chisels. But how diligent, useful and lively these little folks, in plain, coarse coats and with bare legs,
were! In place of things light, clean and easy, the kabouters had furnaces, crucibles and fires of coal and
Sometimes they were grimy, with smoke and coal dust, and the sweat ran down their faces and bodies. Yet there
was always plenty of water in the mines, and when hard work was over they washed and looked plain but tidy.
Besides their stores of gold, and silver, and precious stones, which they kept ready, to give to good people,
they had tools with which to tease or tantalize cruel, mean or lazy folks.
Now when the kabouter daddies began the roaring fires for the making of the bells, the little mothers and the
small fry in the kabouter world could not afford to be idle. One and all, they came down from off the earth,
and into the mines they went in a crowd. They left off teasing milkmaids, tangling skeins of flax, tearing
fishermen's nets, tying knots in cows' tails, tumbling pots, pans and dishes, in the kitchen, or hiding hats,
and throwing stones down the chimneys
 onto the fireplaces. They even ceased their fun of mocking children, who were calling the cows home, by hiding
behind the rocks and shouting to them. Instead of these tricks, they saved their breath to blow the fires into
a blast. Everybody wondered where the "kabs" were, for on the farms and in town nothing happened and all was
as quiet as when a baby is asleep.
For days and weeks underground, the dwarfs toiled, until their skins, already dark, became as sooty as the
rafters in the houses of our ancestors. Finally, when all the labor was over, the chief gnomes were invited
down into the mines to inspect the work.
What a sight! There were at least a hundred bells, of all sizes, like as in a family; where there are daddy,
mother, grown ups, young sons and daughters, little folk and babies, whether single, twins or triplets. Big
bells, that could scarcely be put inside a hogshead, bells that would go into a barrel, bells that filled a
bushel, and others a peck, stood in rows. From the middle, and tapering down the row, were scores more, some
of them no larger than cow-bells. Others, at the end, were so small, that one had to think of pint and gill
Besides all these, there were stacks of iron rods and bars, bolts, nuts, screws, and wires and yokes on which
to hang the bells.
 One party of the strongest of the kabouters had been busy in the forest, close to a village, where some men,
ordered to do so by a foreign teacher, had begun to cut down some of the finest and most sacred of the grand
old trees. They had left their tools in the woods; but the "kabs," at night, seized their axes and before
morning, without making any noise, they had levelled all but the holy trees. Those they spared. Then, the
timber, all cut and squared, ready to hold the bells, was brought to the mouth of the mine.
Now in Dutch, the name for bell is "klok." So a wise and gray-bearded gnome was chosen by the high sounding
title of klokken-spieler, or bell player, to test the bells for a carillon. They were all hung, for practice,
on the big trestles, in a long row. Each one of these frames was called a "hang," for they were just like
those on which fishermen's nets were laid to dry and be mended.
So when all were ready, washed, and in their clean clothes, every one of the kabouter families, daddies,
mothers, and young ones, were ranged in lines and made to sing. The heavy male tenors and baritones, the
female sopranos and contraltos, the trebles of the little folks, and the squeaks of the very small children,
down to the babies' cooing, were all heard by the gnomes,
 who were judges. The high and mighty klokken-spieler, or master of the carillon, chose those voices with best
tone and quality, from which to set in order and regulate the bells.
It was pitiful to see how mad and jealous some of the kabouters, both male and female, were, when they were
not appointed to the first row, in which were some of the biggest of the males, and some of the fattest of the
females. Then the line tapered off, to forty or fifty young folks, including urchins of either sex, down to
mere babies, that could hardly stand. These had bibs on and had to be held up by their fond mothers. Each one
by itself could squeal and squall, coo and crow lustily; but, at a distance, their voices blended and the
noise they made sounded like a tinkle.
All being ready, the old gnome bit his tuning fork, hummed a moment, and then started a tune. Along the line,
at a signal from the chief gnome, they started a tune.
In the long line, there were, at first, booms and peals, twanging and clanging, jangling and wrangling, making
such a clangor that it sounded more like an uproar than an opera. The chief gnome was almost discouraged.
But neither a gnome nor a kabouter ever gives up. The master of the choir tried again and again. He scolded
one old daddy, for singing
 too low. He frowned at a stalwart young fellow, who tried to drown out all the rest with his bull-like bellow.
He shook his finger at a kabouter girl, that was flirting with a handsome lad near her. He cheered up the
little folks, encouraging them to hold up their voices, until finally he had all in order. Then they
practiced, until the master gnome thought he had his scale of notation perfect and gave orders to attune the
bells. To the delight of all the gnomes, kabouters and elves, that had been invited to the concert, the rows
of bells, a hundred or more, from boomers to tinklers, made harmony. Strung one above the other, they could
render merriment, or sadness, in solos, peals, chimes, cascades and carillons, with sweetness and effect. At
the low notes the babies called out "cow, cow;" but at the high notes, "bird, bird."
So it happened that, on the very day that the bishop had his great church built, with a splendid bulb spire on
the top, and all nicely furnished within, but without one bell to ring in it, that the kabouters planned a
It was night. The bishop was packing his saddle bags, ready to take a journey, on horseback, to Rheims. At
this city, the great caravans from India and China ended, bringing to the annual fair, rugs, spices, gems, and
things Oriental, and the merchants of Rheims rolled in
 gold. Here the bishop would beg the money, or ask for a bell, or chimes.
Suddenly, in the night, while in his own house, there rang out music in the air, such as the bishop had never
heard in Holland, or in any of the seventeen provinces of the Netherlands. Not even in the old lands, France,
or Spain, or Italy, where the Christian teachers, builders and singers, and the music of the bells had long
been heard, had such a flood of sweet sounds ever fallen on human ears. Here, in these northern regions, rang
out, not a solo, nor a peal, nor a chime, nor even a cascade, from one bell, or from many bells; but, a long
programme of richest music in the air—something which no other country, however rich or old, possessed.
It was a carillon, that is, a continued mass of real music, in which whole tunes, songs, and elaborate pieces
of such length, mass and harmony, as only a choir of many voices, a band of music, or an orchestra of many
performers could produce.
To get this grand work of hanging in the spire done in one night, and before daylight, also, required a whole
regiment of fairy toilers, who must work like bees. For if one ray of sunshine struck any one of the
kabouters, he was at once petrified. The light elves lived in the sunshine and thrived on it; but for dark
elves, like the kabouters, whose home was underground,
sun-  beams were as poisoned arrows bringing sure death; for by these they were turned into stone. Happily the task
was finished before the eastern sky grew gray, or the cocks crowed. While it was yet dark, the music in the
air flooded the earth. The people in their beds listened with rapture.
"Laus Deo" (Praise God), devoutly cried the surprised bishop. "It sounds like a choir of angels. Surely the
cherubim and seraphim are here. Now is fulfilled the promise of the Psalmist: 'The players on instruments
shall be there.'"
So, from this beginning, so mysterious to the rough, unwise and stupid teachers, but, by degrees, clearer to
the tactful ones, who were kind and patient, the carillons spread over all the region between the forests of
Ardennes and the island in the North Sea. The Netherlands became the land of melodious symphonies and of
tinkling bells. No town, however poor, but in time had its carillon. Every quarter of an hour, the sweet music
of hymn or song, made the air vocal, while at the striking of the hours, the pious bowed their heads and the
workmen heard the call for rest, or they took cheer, because their day's toil was over. At sunrise, noon, or
sunset, the Angelus, and at night the curfew sounded their calls.
 It grew into a fashion, that, on stated days, great concerts were given, lasting over an hour, when the grand
works of the masters of music were rendered and famous carillon players came from all over the Netherlands, to
compete for prizes. The Low Countries became a famous school, in which klokken-spielers (bell players) by
scores were trained. Thus no kingdom, however rich or great, ever equalled the Land of the Carillon, in making
the air sweet with both melody and harmony.
Nobody ever sees a kabouter nowadays, for in the new world, when the woods are nearly all cut down, the world
made by the steam engine, and telegraph, and wireless message, the automobile, aeroplane and submarine, cycle
and under-sea boat, the little folks in the mines and forests are forgotten. The chemists, miners, engineers
and learned men possess the secrets which were once those of the fairies only. Yet the artists and architects,
the clockmakers and bellfounders, who love beauty, remember what their fathers once thought and believed. That
is the reason why, on many a famous clock, either in front of the dial or near the pendulum, are figures of
the gnomes, who thought, and the kabouters who wrought, to make the carillons. In Teuton lands, where their
cousins are named kobolds, and in France where they are called
 fée, and in England brownies, they have tolling and ringing of bells, with peals, chimes and cascades of sweet
sound; but the Netherlands, still, above all others on earth, is the home of the carillon.
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