V
THE OGRE IN THE FOREST OF HAZEL NUTS
Ages ago, in the gloomy forests of Limburg, there lived a roaring giant named Toover Hek. Although the forest was so dense, yet there were many paths through it, for there was no other way of getting across from Germany, into Belgic Land and France and Holland. Toover Hek, the man-eating giant, or ogre, used to wait, where the paths crossed each other, or diverged, and here he would waylay travelers, seize them and run away with them, and, with his ogre wife, devour them in his cave.
This ogre, Toover Hek, roamed the woods and ate up all the people he could catch, who traveled that way. Terrible tales were told about his vrouw, also, who was reported to be even more cruel than her big husband. It was said that she was a cousin of another ogre, Hecate, who had once lived further east, in Greece. Both had been driven out by the holy saints, and had come into Belgic land, where one of them married the man-eating giant, Toover Hek.
Sometimes the children called this big fellow the Long Man, because he was so tall, and had such very long legs. In the local dialect, this became “Lounge Man,” which means the same thing.
One day, his ogre wife found some honey in the forest and brought it to him. He smacked his lips and always after that called his wife his Troetel, or Honey Bunch.
The first inhabitant of the country was a farmer, named Heinrich. He was a doughty fellow, who was not afraid of ogres or giants. He had long lived among people who celebrated the kermiss, but with such drunken brutality and coarse indecency, that he was disgusted, and went into the forest to live. Heinrich’s one weakness was pea soup, and his wife thought with him and rode the same hobby. All her neighbors said that she made the best and thickest pea soup in Limburg. Heinrich believed pea soup to be both food and luxury. He thought also that water and milk, and good soup, were all the liquids nature intended ever to pass the human throat.
Finding that the soil was fertile, and that plenty of hazel nuts would fatten his pigs, Heinrich trudged with his wife Grietje (Maggie), far into the hazel forest. He swung his axe diligently, chopped down the trees, and built a rough house of wood. This he made his home, and named it Hasselt.
Soon his goats, pigs, and chickens so multiplied that it was hard to keep them out of the house. So Grietje persuaded her husband, Heinrich, to saw the door in halves and put them on two sets of hinges. This was called a hek, or heck-door, after the name usually given to the feed-rack in the barn or stable.
In this way, the upper part of the door, when open, let in light and air, and the house was kept looking sweet and cheerful. The lower part of the door, or the heck, when shut, kept out the goats, pigs, and chickens.
Leaning over the top of the lower half, the good vrouw could throw out grain to feed the ducks, geese, pullets, hens, and roosters, and toss many a tidbit to the piggies. Farmer Heinrich was so pleased with this idea of a double door, that kept his wife in good humor, that he would always call on it to witness some act of his. He would even swear by this demi-door, as if it were something sacred or important.
So his wife often heard him say “By heck, that’s a fine hazel-nut,” or “By heck, what a fat pig!” or, “By heck, that pea soup is good!” and many such like expressions.
Being so extravagantly fond of the thick pea soup, which Belgians like so much, Heinrich planted a large pea patch. Every day, he went out to see how his vines were growing. When his crop was ready to be gathered, he had, besides having enjoyed a daily dish of green peas, or a good basin of thick pea soup, enough of the legumes dried, to furnish his table with thick pea soup, all winter long. He cultivated all the varieties of peas then known. The early, medium, late, and the wrinkled, smooth or split peas were, at one time or another, on his table.
One evening, after a day’s work with the axe, in the forest, Farmer Heinrich came home to tell his wife about a terrible ogre, of which he had caught a glimpse, that day, on one of the hills across the valley. This monster carried an enormous fir tree club.
Heinrich seemed very much disturbed and talked volubly to Grietje. He wound up his description of the Long Man, as he called him, by adding at the end of every sentence, “By heck, he is tall; a real Toover Hek; and, by heck his club was a big one.”
Now Heinrich and his vrouw feared that they could not defend themselves from the giant, if he should seek them out. Yet they did not propose to become mincemeat for an ogre. Far from it. The man knew that Toover Hek had a big stomach, that could hold a half a hogshead full of food; and that, after all, he was very much like a man; and that the best way to divert or fool him, was by aiming at his stomach. Their surest defense would be in having a barrel of thick pea soup, kept ready and hot, for him. Fill his stomach, and he would forget everything else; for, like a pig, he thought first and last of something to eat. Whenever they saw Toover Hek coming, they could warm up the soup quickly, and set it out on the doorstep. Then they would bolt the heck door and put a notice outside inviting the ogre to help himself to the free lunch.
They also planned to drive all the cattle, pigs, goats, and poultry into the barn and lock the animals up. Of course, they would make no noise, for the roosters and hens would think it was night, and go to roost, and the four footed creatures to sleep.
In fact, these two Limburgers went on the idea that the bigger the ogre, the less brains he would have, inside his brain pan. It was the way of Dame Nature, the woman argued; that, what she put into a creature’s body, she took out of his skull, whether it were a dragon, a bull, a monkey, or a giant. She didn’t add “a man,” but she probably meant it. Everybody knows that a smart girl, or a nimble princess, was often more than a match for a giant, and could usually outwit even a man.
It turned out, just as Heinrich and Grietje expected, and had planned. One day, when the farmer was far out in the fields, pulling up the vines of an old pea-patch, and grubbing up the soil to plant new ones, Grietje, the vrouw, saw Toover Hek, at a distance, coming down the hill, straight for their cabin.
At once, she set the boiler on the fire, to heat up the pea soup. Then she ran out and shooed the chickens, drove the cows into the barn, pulled the goats inside, and locked the door.
Then she poured out the hot, thick, pea soup, into the barrel outside, hung a dipper near by, for invitation, and shut and bolted both leaves of the heck door. Peeping through the keyhole, she could see the big fellow strutting forward. He was puffing, and blowing, after his long tramp.
Toover Hek seemed to sniff the good stuff from a distance. He laid down his big club, which was made of a whole fir tree, and coming up to the pea soup barrel, poked out his tongue and tasted the thick soup. He smacked his lips in glee, making such a noise, that Heinrich, in the distant pea patch, thought it had thundered.
The ogre paid no attention to the ladle; and, it may be, he did not see it; but, with both hands, lifting up the whole barrel of soup at once, he gulped it down, as if it were only a cupful. Then rubbing gleefully the region of his swelled out stomach he licked his chops, and soon walked off, without hurting anything, not even a toad.
Heinrich and Grietje were in high spirits over all this, and congratulated each other, on not being inside Toover Hek’s stomach and on their apparent escape from further danger.
But next day Toover Hek came again. Happily, the barrel of thick pea soup was again ready for him, and once more he swallowed it all down; finishing his lunch by thrusting out his tongue, which Grietje declared was a yard long, and giving a thunderous lick to his chops. Then he strode off, to tell his ogre wife, about his good luck.
But she only scolded him, for not bringing home a nice juicy boy, a plump girl, a fat woman, or even a skinny man, tough as he might be; for such a tid-bit would taste better than her every day meal of roots and berries and wild animals. As for her part, she was real hungry. She was so tired of Limburger cheese, as a steady diet. And, besides, she liked the strong smell of it, even less than she used to. She thought he was an auroch or a bear; and at last she called him a wild boar, for not thinking of her, and bringing home to her at least a bucketful of pea soup. How could he forget her!
In the home of Heinrich, there was trouble also. How could they keep up the supply of a whole barrel of thick pea soup every day for months?
For, although one might outwit an ogre, and play the sort of a trick, which must bamboozle his stupid brain, there was no telling what he might do, when matters referred to his stomach, and when there was no more thick pea soup, to divert him from the pigs and chickens; or, what he liked best, human beings. Heinrich feared that Toover Hek would soon eat him out of house and home and then proceed to make a meal of him and his vrouw; and finish up with his fowls and live stock.
“But there’s no use trying to thin out the soup, and save peas. He’ll find it out, and then he’ll smash everything with his big club,” said Heinrich to Grietje, after she had suggested economy, with more water and fewer peas, and then, when all the peas were gone, mock turtle or cabbage soup.
Heinrich, being a man, knew that it was not safe to play tricks with a hungry giant, when his stomach was empty. “A man and an ogre are about the same, when it comes to his appetite,” he argued. He went on to say: “You could not do it with a farmer, and how was it to be done with an ogre? No, Toover Hek must be given either thick pea soup, or else he would eat them all up.” And at this, Heinrich pounded on the table, with his fist. He loved his wife, but he wanted her to understand that he was boss; but she only laughed inside, and knew she could “wrap him round her little finger,” when she wanted to—the dear old donkey.
Now it happened just when his bin was empty, and the last bushel of peas had been scraped out, to make thick soup, and Toover Hek had again swallowed a barrel full, that these first inhabitants of Hasselt, Heinrich and Grietje, his wife, were saved from the ogre, in an unexpected way.
How did it come to pass?
Well a brave knight, who had heard of Heinrich’s troubles, and had got tired of rescuing princes from dragons, and dungeons, and cruel uncles and old witches, hied him to the Forest of Hazel Nuts. He was just spoiling for a fight with an ogre. So he made a vow to the Holy Virgin that if she would help him, he would make the paths safe for travelers. Coming into the woods, near Hasselt, early one afternoon, he waited until old Toover Hek had already had his daily gulp of thick pea soup, and felt sleepy, and much like taking an afternoon nap. The ogre was so full, that he could not walk fast, or move about easily. Then the knight knew that he would be “carrying his head under his armpit,” that is, his wits were out.
The truth was, that old Toover Hek was half afraid to go home, and tell his wife that he had forgotten her again and had drunk up all the soup, before he thought of her, and what she had told him. He wished now that he had taken home a pail full; but he soon got over this spasm of conscience, and felt dull and stupid. Indeed he looked as if he were hunting round, for a good, soft place to take a nap in.
As soon as the knight noticed this, he flew at him with his trusty sword. He avoided his big club, which came down with a crack, hurting nothing, but only knocking off some hazel nuts, and making a big dent in the ground.
Then the knight rushed up close to his enemy’s long legs and chopped away at his knees. Toover Hek fell over, for his big club was of no use. Seeing this, the knight ran up, and cut off the ogre’s head.
Then pulling out his hunting horn, the victor blew a blast, which called up his two squires. They quickly rigged up a rude sled, made of poles, put the head of Toover Hek on it, and drew it off to the knight’s castle. There it was exposed, on a sharpened stake of wood, in front of the gate. For a whole week it was the sport of the community, and the lads and maidens danced and sang and all the people rejoiced. After the ogre’s head was taken down, it was set in the ground at the side of a brook, and used for women to stand or kneel on, while washing clothes. In time it was polished as ivory and shone in the sun.
As for Heinrich, he hitched up four yoke of oxen, and tying an iron chain around the fir tree trunk, which formed the giant’s club, he dragged it to his barnyard and there had it chopped up. It made a load of firewood which lasted him all winter.
Now that the roads were safe for all travelers, Heinrich and Grietje, and the knight, in thankfulness to the Holy Virgin fixed a pretty little shrine to one of the forest trees. Soon the knight’s exploit was noised abroad and pilgrims came in large companies, to pray here, and take courage. They called the place by name, which, in the local dialect, or patois, is “Virga Jesse.” In this form of words, one easily recognized the name of the Holy Virgin and her Blessed Son.
In time, instead of Heinrich’s farm, a great clearing in the woods was made, and Hasselt, or Hazel Bush, was well named. It was also called the Forest City and became renowned throughout Europe.
The fame of the shrine was bruited abroad and rich people came to it and made offerings also to the village church. Even the Pope sent as a gift, for the Holy Mother, a jeweled crown.
Every seventh year, on the 15th of August, besides the religious procession, celebrating the Feast of the Assumption, which attracts the pious, the Hasselters, young or old, have a jolly and happy time. They enjoy uproariously the legend of Heinrich and his vrouw, and they tell how a woman’s wit brought to naught the villainous designs of the cannibal ogre, Toover Hek; and how a brave knight slew him and relieved the country of the monstrous Long Man. So, to this day, the barrel of thick pea soup, like the widow’s cruse of oil, has never failed. What became of the ogre’s wife no one knows, or cares.