WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE

When was the last time I posted some favourite Flemish folklore? Here is a story I wanted to tell since long ago that has all the hallmarks of what I like -mothers and daughters, naiad nymphs, vampires, faeries, sweets, lots of love, and just the right amount of violence, but not without a happy ever after. This story is also notable because it passes the Bechdel test and stars an all-female family!

Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE:
A Flemish Fairy Tale

ILLUSTRATIONS

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE
A FLEMISH FAIRY TALE

And, when he saw White Caroline, he started to play on his organ the most beautiful airs that it was possible to hear, and the three little dogs commenced to dance together 

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE

A FLEMISH FAIRY TALE

Come, come, Caroline,White, white, child o' mine!I hate you, HATE you,And, at any rate, youAre no child o' mine!

Come, come, Caroline,Black, black, child o' mine!I bore you, adore you,Will give whatever more youWant, O child o' mine!

Once upon a time there was a mother who had two daughters, both named Caroline. People called one 'White Caroline,' because she was so beautiful. But her mother could not see it, because the child was not really her own. The other was called 'Black Caroline' by the people, because she was so ugly. Black Caroline was the favourite of her mother, and received everything she could desire.

Now one day it so happened that a shepherd was passing by, and with him he had three little lambs; and he smiled on seeing White Caroline, and he caressed her head, and the little lambs came close and rubbed themselves against her little white dress. White Caroline was exceedingly pleased with all this. Now Black Caroline, standing on the winding stairs, also wanted to see; and, coming to the door, she half opened it. But as soon as the shepherd saw her face, he turned and started on his way, and the three little lambs bleated and beat their heads together, because Black Caroline was so ugly;—but she was good all the same!

'White Caroline must die, cost what it will!'

And so she thought and thought during seven days how she could get rid of White Caroline. Then, one day, she went behind a hedge and said:

'Hedge, Thorn-Hedge, give me a dozen deadly thorns, each one an inch long!'

And the hedge gave her a dozen deadly thorns, each thorn an inch long. Then their mother returned home, and showed them to Black Caroline.

'Pay attention, Black Caroline,' she said; 'this evening when you go to bed you must sleep at the edge, and the inside place must be for White Caroline; because I am going to conceal all the little thorns in her pillow; and she will die when she puts her head upon her pillow, and then you, alone, shall be more than ever the pet child of your mother!'

And Black Caroline said, 'Very well!'

But that evening, when White Caroline was about to get into bed, Black Caroline took her by the arm and said:

'White Caroline, I love you very much; and you must not tell mother; but she is trying to kill you. There are a dozen deadly thorns in your pillow; go to sleep all the same, but we'll put our heads at the foot of the bed!'

And White Caroline, full of joy, took Black Caroline in her little arms and they slept together!'

The following morning they heard a rat-a-tat on the stairs.

'Here! Black Caroline! Are you there?'

It was their mother calling from the bottom of the stairs.

'Yes, my dear little mother, I am here!' said White Caroline.

Their mother was in a terrible rage because White Caroline was not dead. She at once mounted the stairs to see if Black Caroline was alive. But even then she could not understand how it was that White Caroline was not dead, and once again rage overcame her!

WHITE CAROLINE AND BLACK CAROLINE

And, when he saw White Caroline, he started to play on his organ the most beautiful airs that it was possible to hear, and the three little dogs commenced to dance together.

[Pg 17]

Now it happened that one day a musician, an organ grinder, was passing by their house: and he had with him three little lapdogs; and, when he saw White Caroline, he started to play on his organ the most beautiful airs that it was possible to hear, and the three little dogs commenced to dance together. White Caroline was exceedingly pleased! But Black Caroline, who was on the winding stairs, came down and half opened the door because she wanted to see also. But, as soon as the musician saw the face of Black Caroline, he ceased to play, and the three little dogs hid their heads under a sack because Black Caroline was so ugly—but she was also very good.

And their mother, in her heart, could not stand that, so she said:

'White Caroline must die, cost what it will!'

She thought and thought during seven days how she could rid herself of White Caroline. At last she went to a wicked witch, and bought the most violent poison that could be got.

On arriving home she called Black Caroline and said:

'Pay attention, Black Caroline; when at dinner to-day, do not eat of the little meat-balls. Say you have a pain in your head; because I am going to put this poison in the meat, and then White Caroline will eat it, and she will die; and then you will be more than ever the pet of your mother!'

And Black Caroline said, 'Very well!'

But, at dinner time, when White Caroline was about to eat from her plate, she took her by the arm and said:

'White Caroline, I love you very much, but you must not tell mother; she wishes your death, and she has put poison in your meat. Tell her that we will eat our dinner outside the house, so that the cat may not eat the birdies and so that the crows may not eat the grain. Then you can throw your portion away.'

Then White Caroline, full of joy, took Black Caroline in her little arms and they went out together.

A little while after they heard a rat-a-tat at the garden door.

'Here! Black Caroline! Are you there?'

It was their mother calling from the inside of the house.

'Yes, my dear little mother, I am here!' said White Caroline.

And their mother was in a great rage because White Caroline was not dead. Then she went out to see if Black Caroline was still alive. And she had still her plate full of meat, and she was shedding tears of blood, because she had such a bad headache. And their mother could not understand how it was that White Caroline was not dead, and she boiled with rage.

And one day it happened that a tradesman was passing the house with sweets and cakes in his van, and when he saw White Caroline, he showed her all the sweets and cakes and candied nuts. White Caroline was so happy, because the tradesman gave her nuts and sweets and cake for nothing, just because she was so pretty. But Black Caroline, who was coming down the winding stairs, came out to see.

As soon as the sweets man saw Black Caroline, he mounted his van and drove away at full gallop, because she was so ugly—but she was good all the same.

And her mother could not stand that, so she said:

'White Caroline must die, cost what it will!'

Then she went to a master miller and asked him if he could place the millstone against four little sticks, so that whoever touched the millstone it would fall on them and crush them. And the miller said: 'Yes, it can be done very well, and the millstone will be placed thus in fourteen days. I will see to it at once.'

Their mother was very pleased, and she showed Black Caroline how the mill would be placed, and said to her:

'Pay attention, Black Caroline: when you go with the sack of flour to the mill, you must let it drag and be overcome, before you arrive near the little sticks that support the millstone. White Caroline must take it all alone. As soon as she touches the little sticks she will be crushed by the millstone, and then you will be more than ever the pet of your mother!'

And Black Caroline said, 'Very well!'

But the next day, when White Caroline walked near the little sticks, Black Caroline stopped her and said:

'White Caroline, I love you very much, and you must not tell mother; but she intends that you shall die, and she has caused these little sticks to be placed like that, so that the millstone will fall on you and crush you. Throw the sack on the sticks—so!'

And White Caroline, full of joy, took Black Caroline in her little arms, and so they went back. And it was well they did, for there were five little rats in that sack of flour, and all those five were killed when the millstone fell down.

Then they heard a rat-a-tat, and the voice of their mother calling: 'Here! Black Caroline! Are you there?'

'Yes, little mother, I am here,' answered White Caroline.

And the mother was very cross to find that White Caroline was not dead. And she ran quickly to the mill to see if Black Caroline was alive. And, when she came back and found her, she was crying tears of blood because she ached in every limb and could not walk. And her mother could not understand how it was that White Caroline was not dead, and she boiled with rage.

She took Black Caroline home and put her in her little bed. Then she set out to find White Caroline with intent to kill her; but White Caroline had gone far away where her mother could not get at her.

On her journey she came to a great stretch of freshwater and she could not cross over. But suddenly she saw many arms, as black as ink, held out over the water so that they formed a bridge. White Caroline did not know whether to pass over this bridge or to go back. She began to cry bitterly; then, plucking up courage, she made the sign of the cross and ran upon them.

When she came to the middle, the arms gave way, and White Caroline would have been drowned had she not been held by the heels of her little wooden shoes. And the water-nymphs and vampires were all around her.

Then, suddenly, a beautiful woman all in white came running to her aid. And, though the claws of the Evil Things were now pulling her down by the heels of her little shoes, the White Woman was in time to save her just as she was on the point of being drowned.

Then the White Woman turned to the water-nymphs and vampires:

'Be still, all of you! Down to your dens, and say I sent ye!'

Then she led White Caroline to the other side of the water. And there she looked at her, and kissed her, and loved her as her own, because she was so beautiful.

This White Woman was the Queen of all the freshwaters and the woods, and was able, in her domain, to grant anything that any one desired. In her great love for White Caroline, she told her that she could have whatever she wished.

'Would you like to eat some beautiful grapes, White Caroline?' said she. Then with her wand she tapped a vine, and behold, immediately there hung beautiful grapes upon it!

'Would you like a beautiful dress of silk, White Caroline?' And she tapped again with her little wand, and, immediately, from a chrysalis hanging from the vine, a lovely dress of sky-blue silk was unfolded before her, all ready to put on.

And the nymphs and the vampires were more than ever afraid to come near White Caroline, and she was very glad of that indeed.

'Would you like a voyage?' said the White Woman. And, immediately, with a wave of her wand, she pointed it at a little nautilus sailing on the water, and there, in another moment, stood a beautiful barque with all sail set. And so White Caroline had everything she could desire, and was very happy.

But one day a King came by, and the sound of his trumpet rang over the length of the water and through the woods. Quick—so quick—the White Woman ran to White Caroline and said to her:

'White Caroline, the time has come, and we must part; and you will never see me again. But, before I go, you can wish for two things; and whatever you wish, it shall be granted you!'

With that the White Woman vanished.

Then White Caroline wished to have Black Caroline with her. And immediately there was a rustling among the trees, and Black Caroline stood beside her!

The two Carolines were now reunited. But White Caroline was sad because Black Caroline was not as pretty as she herself, and, remembering the White Woman's promise, she resolved to wish that they might both be exactly the same.

Then she wished that both of them should be changed into something exactly alike!

Immediately they began to change. Little white feathers appeared on their shoulders and spread until they were entirely covered; and there they stood together, two beautiful white swans! And ever after they swam up and down on the peaceful water and no one could tell one from the other. And never again did the nymphs and the vampires come near to harm them.

WHY FAERIES ARE UNABLE TO LEAVE MORTAL MEN BE

WHY FAERIES ARE UNABLE TO LEAVE MORTAL MEN BE

A Flemish Folktale

Translated and retold by Sandra Dermark

21st of July, MMXVIII

In a village not far from a vast heathland, once upon a time, a girl-child was born. Her parents christened her Mieke. Everyone who crossed her path was left staring at her. And little Mieke never wasted a chance to contemplate herself. She never smiled at her mother, but only at her own reflection, just as it was mirrored in her mother's eyes. There was no mirror, pond, or windowpane where she passed by without becoming self-absorbed and losing track of time.
And everyone told her:
"Beware, Mieke, you will spend your beauty with so much staring at yourself!"

It was not until Mieke became a woman, and the village schoolteacher, that her ego finally went to her head for sure. When her mother asked her to sweep the chicken coop, she pointed at her clean dress and winced in disgust. When her grandmother asked her to fetch water from the village pump, she pretended, with most convincing performance, that she had sprained her foot. She always found some young man ready to carry out the chores that were actually her own responsibility. And, as soon as the lad du jour was finished with her work, Mieke sent him away.
She insulted every man who dared to whistle at her:
"Go whistle at your goat!"
She mocked every man who invited her to attend the local fête with him.
"Kisses in exchange for sweets? But who do you think I am?"
She criticized, from crown to toe, every one who insisted on taking her to the fête.
However, the lads in that heathland village were more stubborn than the most persistent weeds, thornier than any blackberry bush, and stickier than the sundew plants. They were not the kind to give up that easily. However, as soon as they heard Mieke's critiques, they all felt as worthless as worms.
Mieke was more fastidious than a butterfly who tastes a thousand flowers before beginning to drink the nectar in earnest. She spurned, one by one, all of her suitors.
"Given how lovely you are, such a rarity, and that there is no way at all that you should get married," her parents sighed. "Beware, my daughter; life gallops far faster than any racehorse. What keeps us warm are kisses of flesh and blood."
But Mieke stuck out her tongue and did exactly as she pleased.

Mieke's female friends were all delighted: they let themselves be hugged and kissed, tried their hand at two or three suitors, picked the one they found most convenient, and married him. Mieke, however, was unable to decide.
The baker's boy was the one who insisted the most, in spite of Mieke's jeers at him:
"Crookteeth, squinteyes, bonehead...!"
One day, a terrible epidemic broke out. No one was safe. Not even the young people.
While Mieke kept rest in her bed, the baker's boy kept on bringing heather blossoms to her. And when the maiden breathed her last, the lad had grown weary of mourning her, his squinting eyes and the face on his bony head all swimming in tears.
"Oh, Death, what have you done?!" Mieke's grandmother sobbed. "Why have you not come to take me instead? I have lived throuugh everything: kisses, caresses, pregnancies, childbirths, nursing, menopause... Why have you taken away a young maiden whose life was in full bloom? A girl who had never tasted love?"
Mieke's mother and grandmother opened the wardrobe and took out the clothes both of them had worn at their respective weddings: a gown, a veil, a petticoat, a corset, stockings, and low shoes, all of them snowy white. They washed the lovely form clean and dressed her.
"You shall be buried as a young bride."
They both repeated what they had been told on the wedding day:
"The wedding night has to be discovered, layer by layer."

Everyone who came to take their leave of Mieke was left speechless. There she was, the most beautiful bride of them all. The sobs and sighs kept on echoing for hours:
"Poor girl! What a pity!"
The baker's boy kissed Mieke's cold lips, and crowned her hair with a wreath of heather blossoms.
When night fell, and the women at the wake in the church had all fallen fast asleep, Mieke received a visit from some female strangers.
There entered, fluttering, twelve white damosels.
"Come with us, pretty sweetling! Take off your wedding gown, but keep your petticoats on. That is all that a cajoling faery needs..."
Out of the lifeless form's mouth came, with a flutter, a tiny white damosel in petticoats. In the company of the other twelve white damosels, she left the chapel, where the candles burned bright, and flew over the village, out towards the heath. They all landed in some clumps of furze on the shores of a little lake.
"At the crack of dawn, we go to bed," the white damosels explained, "but, in the nighttime, we take to the skies. We will teach you how to flutter by and cajole with mortal men, until they are driven to madness!"
The very next night, the novice cajoling faery accompanied her seniors. As soon as Mieke had learned all the somersaults, songs, and dance steps, they all flocked heading towards the pathway that crossed the heath. Not long thereafter, they heard voices, deep male voices and laughter.
No sooner had she recognised the voice of the baker's boy that Mieke flew towards him. The stripling had five or six beers under his belt. He was as drunk as a newt, yet to that detail Mieke paid no heed, and neither did she care about his crooked teeth, his squinting eyes, or his bony head.
The baker's boy could not believe his eyes.
"How luvly... But she ish the shpidding image of...!"
Mieke descended, twirling pirouettes, and remained fluttering around the lad, who was dying of eagerness.
"Lemme touchya... Gotya!"
However, his fingers could not grasp anything but thin air.
Mieke headed towards the lake. The baker's boy followed her, running as fast as he could. He waded into the waters, drenched up to his thighs. When Mieke pulled his hair, he turned to stone. When she pulled his ears, stradding his shoulders, he let himself be carried away. "Ride a horse to Banbury Cross...!"
After much cajoling, Mieke led him back onto the pathway.
"Promise me that tomorrow we will see each other again..." the stripling pleaded.
The other cajoling fairies, however, tore Mieke along with them.
"The sun is rising. We must leave. Tomorrow I shall return..."

When the baker's boy reached the village, he was exhausted.
"How pale you are! What's wrong with you? It looks as if you've seen a ghost...! To bed, and say what's going on..." the baker reacted with concern.
"A ghost you say? A ghost maybe... She looked just like a ghost to me... One moment there, then she was gone...!" sighed his son. "I have seen a damosel in a white petticoat... How gracefully she fluttered! What a rarity she was!"
The baker sighed. "Couldn't you hear any music?"
The lad nodded, and instantly he fell asleep.
The baker swaddled his son in the covers. He had himself, as a young man, let himself be carried away more than once by those cajoling faeries.
Who could chide them in their face for coming to seek, time after time, what they had been missing throughout their human lives?
"Life gallops far faster than any racehorse," said the baker, huddling up close against his wife in their marital bed. "What keeps us warm are kisses of flesh and blood."

The Belgian Easter Bunny

Long before there was a church spire in Belgic Land, or a cross had gleamed in the sunset air, there was a lovely fairy, named Eastre. She was so bright and beautiful, that men thought of her as the lady of the upspringing light, at dawn, where her palace was built in the air. So they called her Eastre, or the East, or the Orient, after that part of the sky and the cardinal direction, from which the sunshine first comes daily, and also, whence, for thousands of years, so many things have come from the dear old mother continent of Asia!

Now, on one of her first daily journeys, in traveling from the Orient, Queen Eastre, who was very fond of the Belgian people, brought with her a special gift for them. It was not gold, or pearls, or flowers, but four members of the lagomorph, closely related to the rodent, family; that is, a pair of rabbits, and a couple of hares. These long-eared creatures look very much like each other, but belong to different species. She set them loose in the countryside and let them run free. They soon multiplied, so that, in a century or so, there were millions of them, in both families.

Wherever one went, he would see Mr. and Mrs. Bunny and their children. Whether it was up in the hills, or the high part of the Walloon country, where the birch and the pine trees grow, and the houses are of stone, or, down in the Flemish low lands, where are the lime and willow trees, and many houses of wood or birch, there were the Bunny families and plenty of them.

Most of these fuzzy creatures were well behaved, and quite mild in their manners. The children liked them and had rabbit warrens, or burrows in the ground, where the tuft- tails lived; or, they kept them in coops, or open boxes, as pets. The little folks were delighted to find them so soft and fluffy. Their long ears served for handles, by which they could be lifted up easily, and carried about. The bunnies did not squeal, or bite, or kick, though they sometimes squirmed and wriggled tremendously. The boys and girls gave their pets queer names, such as Molly Cotton-tail, Mr. Buzz-Fuzz, Monsieur Snowball, or Mynheer Powder Puff, in winter; and, in summer, Bark Nibbler, or Hop Skipper, or Three Lips. This was on the idea, that the upper covering of the mouth consisted of two parts, instead of one.

Nobody ever knew, or could tell, why Mr. Bunny or Mrs. Bunny had a split upper lip; but all noticed that both the little and big bunnies had the same sort of a mouth-covering. This was very plain to be seen; for, except when they were asleep, the pretty creatures were either eating, or chewing something; and so they appeared to be nibbling or gnawing most of the time. Yet this was long before the days of chewing gum, when even human beings and some polite people let their mouths act like those of fourfooted folk. In fact, these Belgian bunnies seemed to be just like some of our girls, that buy gum in the shops and then work their jaws, until they are tired and gradually grow very large, like a camel's or a donkey's.

But after the Belgians had built churches, and took the fairy queen's name for a great festival, which occurred, when the flowers were out, and eggs were plenty, it was told why it was; and this was the story:

Ages ago, when the moon was young, there lived a pretty fairy in the Sky Country of Silver Light, with whom Bunny they called him Prince Bunny then, for he was very handsome fell in love. He often looked up at the moon, which hung in the sky, like a round mirror. There he imagined he saw his own face. So he came to believe himself as handsome as she was.

He wanted so much to get married, that he became crazy over her. Especially, in the month of March, did he get wildly excited, for in those far off early days, the old year ended, and the new one began, in that month. At nearly the same time, the earth began to think of putting on her beautiful new dress of flowers. It was not until long afterward, in western countries, that the almanac was changed, so that New Year's Day came as it does now, in January, and thus the flower time was pushed forward, almost into summer.

Prince Bunny kept on making love to the fairy in the moon, and at last she had to get rid of his importunity, that is, his teasing her, for an answer, by letting him come up into her shining palace.

But no sooner was he there, than she cast a spell upon him, and made him work hard as a servant. She gave him some rushes, that had much grit in them, and acted like a scouring cloth. Then she set him to polishing the moon's bright face; so, that when she turned it full and round upon the earth, she could flood the whole sky with her radiance. By her light on the earth, men could see to read, even at midnight, and old ladies in Scotland could thread needles at nine o'clock.

After thus brightening up her face, and helping to increase her beauty, Bunny, the prince, thought his mistress would change him back into a human being, and let him marry her.

But lo and behold! Whatever her intention might have been, she fell sick and called one of the famous genies, who was the doctor of the sky world. He felt her pulse, put his hand upon her forehead and made her open her pretty mouth, to show her tongue. Then he decided that nothing could cure her dreadful disorder and make her well again, but the elixir of life. This is compounded chiefly from the bruised leaf of the cassia tree, and the medicine must be given often. In fact, nothing else would do, but that Prince Bunny must go to the planet Venus, and get a young cassia tree, that grew there and transplant it to Moon Land. Then, for a thousand years, as men on earth measure time, the cassia leaves must be pounded in a mortar, with a pestle, and out of the juice the elixir of life must be made.

And, of course, nobody could go and get this wonderful tree, but Prince Bunny. He also must plant it, pick the leaves, and pound away, until the magic liquid flowed. Of course, the Moon Lady said to Bunny, calling him Prince, and putting on her sweetest smile, "You will be glad to do this service, because of your great affection for me. So run along, and be quick."

Prince Bunny made the journey to Venus, and pulled up the tree by the roots. When he returned to the Moon Land, he planted it, plucked the leaves, and began to pound away to make the medicine. From time to time, the elixir was made and the Moon Queen drank it and got well, but Bunny had to keep on. Many millions of mortals on the earth, when they saw how busy and faithful he was at his task, admired his devotion. They noticed, also, that he had changed from being a courting lad to a druggist. Then they said:

"How he must love her!" and many a faithful maiden sighed, hoping she might have so fervent a lover and so faithful a spouse.

But during all this while, to the Fairy Queen, there was no such thing as time; for the moon is never in shadow like the earth, and there is no night in Moon Land. So she hardly noticed his absences, either when on his journey, or at his work, which made him so terribly tired. The fairy's spell was on him, and he had to keep at his toil, according to the calendar, which men used on the earth.

After a thousand years of pounding in the mortar, and handing over the cassia leaves, to be made into the elixir of life, Prince Bunny felt quite sure that the Moon Queen would now take him for her husband. But she, being now well and hearty, called him to her and said:

"Now that the Belgians have churches, I want you to go down into their country and bear from me a message. You are to present it through the Queen of the East, the fairy, Eastre.

And this was the word, which the Moon Queen gave to be delivered:

"For days together, you mortals see me die in the sky; but I come again into fullness of life. So shall you die, but live again. This is my message to you. May you be happy as you think of it."

But Prince Bunny flew into a rage. He was smarting under three grievances. The Moon Queen had kept him so long, working for her; she would not now release him into his former human form; and, she would not marry him, and be his wife. So, in bad temper, this is the way he gave his message to the Belgic folk.

"As I die and live no more, so shall it be with you poor mortals."

Alas that the people all believed what Bunny said, and they grieved for a long time, but Prince Bunny only laughed and chuckled over the mischief he had made.

When he returned to Moon Land, the Queen asked him what he had said or done, for she heard the people crying. Then he answered, with impudence, and boasted that he had outwitted human beings, who often treated bunnies badly. He rather thought the Queen might be impressed with his smartness and that now she would marry him.

But the Lady of the Moon was very angry at him, and lost her self-control. Seeing a hatchet lying near, which Prince Bunny had used to chop off twigs of the cassia tree, she lifted it up and threw it at him. The blade struck Bunny on the upper lip, and divided it forever. Prince Bunny went first to all the doctors, that live in Moon Land, and among the stars, and, finally, to all that then dwelt on the earth. Not one could help him, or close the cleft in his upper lip. And all bunnies became like him.

As for the people in Belgic Land, they soon learned how the bad prince had deceived them. They recovered their faith, and named the day of the glorious Feast of the Resurrection, after the fairy of the radiant dawn and upspringing light, whom their ancestors loved so dearly. Thus they called the festival, that comes at the opening of the flowers. To our time, this, the happiest day of the year, is, in English, "Easter."

But because Prince Bunny had been so wicked, that was no reason why all hares and rabbits should be punished for his naughtiness.

So the real Bunny, that frisks on four legs, was adopted as the symbol of Easter, along with the eggs, and the hot cakes, which, baked the day before and stamped with the mark of the cross, were served at the Easter breakfast. Of these every child had one, but it was called not bunny, but for short, bun; or "hot cross bun."

Even this was not all. Not every family could afford hot cross buns, or even Easter eggs. There was one poor peasant family, whose father had been sick many months. Not being able to earn any money, his wife was very sad, as Easter day came near, for she could buy neither buns nor eggs, for her ailing husband and the three little girls, who were their children.

However, loving the little folks very dearly, she told them to make a nest, and to pray to the good Heaven, who made both the sun, and the moon, and the earth, and the flowers. So the little maids went to bed early, that night. They were so eager to get up betimes, in the morning, that they did not undress, but got under the covers, with their clothes on. In this way, their mother found them at early dawn and first light, fast asleep, and drenched with perspiration, because the night was unusually warm.

She woke them up, washed their faces, and let them go out to the barn, to see if anything was in the nest, which they had made. Hand in hand, they first skipped, and then they ran, all reaching the door of the barn together. This they pulled open, in a jiffy.

What a sight! There sat a big rabbit on his haunches, wiggling his front paws up and down, as if he was trying to laugh, in order to welcome them and share their joy. Apparently, this bunny was as happy as a rabbit, or hare, could be. There, in the nest, lay three lovely eggs.

Now, many people in Belgium delight to think this fuzzy fellow, in the barn, was no other than Prince Bunny, who had repented of his naughtiness, and asked permission to come down on the earth, for one night; at the time for the first full moon after the spring equinox, on the 21st of March.

But just how he was able to furnish an Easter breakfast is a question no mere mortal has been able to answer, even to this day.

THE NETTLE SPINNER

THE NETTLE SPINNER

A Legend of the Low Countries

I

ONCE upon a time there lived in Flanders a great feudal lord whose name was Burchard, but whom the country people called Burchard le Loup (the Wolf). Now Count Burchard had such a wicked, cruel heart, that it was whispered how he used to harness his peasants to the plough, and force them by blows from his whip to till his land with naked feet.
His wife, on the other hand, was always tender and pitiful to the helpless and miserable.
Every time that she heard of another misdeed of her husband's she secretly went to repair the evil, which caused her name to be blessed throughout the whole countryside. This Countess was adored as much as the Count was hated.

II

One day when he was out hunting deer, the Count passed through a forest, and at the door of a lonely cottage he saw a beautiful girl spinning hemp.
'What is your name?' he asked her.
'Renelde, my lord.'
'You must get tired of staying in such a lonely place?'
'I am accustomed to it, my lord, and I never get tired of it.'
'That may be so; but come to the castle, and I will make you lady's maid to the Countess.'
'I cannot do that, my lord. I have to look after my grandmother, who is very helpless. And she's only got one grandchild, an orphan no less. We have but each other...'
'Come to the castle, I tell you. I shall expect you this evening,' and he went on his way.
But Renelde, who was betrothed to a young woodcutter called Guilbert, had no intention of obeying the Count, and she had, besides, to take care of her grandmother.
Three days later the Count again passed by.
'Why didn't you come?' he asked the pretty spinner.
'I told you, my lord, that I have to look after my grandmother.' 
'Come tomorrow, and I will make you lady-in-waiting to the Countess,' and he went on his way.
This offer produced no more effect than the other, and Renelde did not go to the castle.
'If you will only come,' said the Count to her when next he rode by, 'I will send away the Countess, and will marry you.'
But two years before, when Renelde's mother was dying of a long illness, the Countess had not forgotten them, but had given help when they sorely needed it. So even if the Count had really wished to marry Renelde, she would always have refused.

III

Some weeks passed before Burchard appeared again.
Renelde hoped she had got rid of him, when one day he stopped at the door, his gun under his arm and his game-bag on his shoulder. This time Renelde was spinning not hemp, but flax.
'What are you spinning?' he asked in a rough voice.
'My wedding shift, my lord.'
'You are going to be married, then?'
'Yes, my lord, by your leave.'
For at that time of feudalism, no peasant could marry without the leave, the permission, of their lord and master.
'I will give you leave on one condition. Do you see those tall nettles that grow on the tombs in the churchyard? Go and gather them, and spin them into two fine shifts. One shall be your bridal shift, and the other shall be my burial shroud. For you shall be married the day that I am laid in my grave.' And the Count turned away with a mocking laugh.
Renelde trembled. Never in all Locquignol had such a thing been heard of as the spinning of nettles.
And besides, the Count seemed made of iron and was very proud of his strength, often boasting that he should live to be one hundred and still retain his youthful health.
Every evening, when his work was done, Guilbert came to visit his future bride. This evening he came as usual, and Renelde told him what Burchard had said.
'Would you like me to watch for the Wolf, and split his skull with a blow from my axe?'
'No,' replied Renelde, 'there must be no blood on my bridal bouquet. And then we must not hurt the Count. Remember how good the Countess was to my mother.'
An old, old woman now spoke: she was the mother of Renelde's grandmother, and was more than ninety, nay, more than one hundred years old. All day long she sat in her chair nodding her head and never saying a word.
'My children,' she said, 'all the years that I have lived in the world, I have never heard of a shift spun from nettles. But what the LORD commands, man or woman can do. Why should not Renelde try it?'

IV

Renelde did try, and to her great surprise the nettles when crushed and prepared gave a good thread, soft and light and firm. Very soon she had spun the first shift, which was for her own wedding. She wove and cut it out at once, hoping that the Count would not force her to begin the other. Just as she had finished sewing it, Burchard le Loup passed by.
'Well,' said he, 'how are the shifts getting on?'
'Here, my lord, is my wedding garment,' answered Renelde, showing him the shift, which was the finest and whitest ever seen.
The Count grew pale, but he replied roughly, `Very good. Now begin the other.'
The spinner set to work. As the Count returned to the castle, a cold shiver passed over him, and he felt, as the saying is, that some one was walking over his grave. He tried to eat his supper, but could not; he went to bed shaking with fever. But he did not sleep, and in the morning could not manage to rise.
This sudden illness, which every instant became worse, made him very uneasy. No doubt Renelde's spinning-wheel knew all about it. Was it not necessary that his body, as well as his shroud, should be ready for the burial?
The first thing Burchard did was to send to Renelde and to stop her wheel.
Renelde obeyed, and that evening Guilbert asked her:
'Has the Count given his consent to our marriage?'
'No,' said Renelde.
'Continue your work, sweetheart. It is the only way of gaining it. You know he told you so himself.'

V

The following morning, as soon as she had put the house in order, the girl sat down to spin. Two hours after there arrived some soldiers, and when they saw her spinning they seized her, tied her arms at the wrists and legs at the ankles, and carried her to the bank of the river, which was swollen by the late rains.
When they reached the bank they flung her in, and watched her sink, after which they left her. But Renelde rose to the surface, and though she could not swim she struggled to land.
Directly she got home she sat down and began to spin.
Again came the two soldiers to the cottage and seized the girl, carried her to the river bank, tied a stone to her neck and flung her into the water.
The moment their backs were turned the stone untied itself. Renelde waded the ford, returned to the hut, and sat down to spin.
This time the Count resolved to go to Locquignol himself; but, as he was very weak and unable to walk, he had himself borne in a litter. And still the spinner spun.
When he saw her he fired a shot at her, as he would have fired at a wild beast. The bullet rebounded without harming the spinner, who still spun on.
Burchard fell into such a violent rage that it nearly killed him. He broke the wheel into a thousand pieces, and then fell fainting on the ground. He was carried back to the castle, unconscious.
The next day the wheel was mended, and the spinner sat down to spin. Feeling that while she was spinning he was dying, the Count ordered that her hands should be tied, and that they should not lose sight of her for one instant.
But the guards fell asleep, the bonds loosed themselves, and the spinner spun on.
Burchard had every nettle rooted up for three leagues round. Scarcely had they been torn from the soil when they sowed themselves afresh, and grew as you were looking at them.
They sprung up even in the well-trodden floor of the cottage, and as fast as they were uprooted the distaff gathered to itself a supply of nettles, crushed, prepared, and ready for spinning.
And every day Burchard grew worse, and watched his end approaching.

VI

Moved by pity for her husband, the Countess at last found out the cause of his illness, and entreated him to allow himself to be cured. But the Count in his pride refused more than ever to give his consent to the marriage.
So the lady resolved to go without his knowledge to pray for mercy from the spinner, and in the name of Renelde's dead mother she besought her to spin no more. Renelde gave her promise, but in the evening Guilbert arrived at the cottage. Seeing that the cloth was no farther advanced than it was the evening before, he inquired the reason. Renelde confessed that the Countess had prayed her not to let her husband die.
'Will he consent to our marriage?'
'No.'
'Let him die then.'
'But what will the Countess say?'
'The Countess will understand that it is not your fault; the Count alone is guilty of his own death.'
'Let us wait a little. Perhaps his heart may be softened.'
So they waited for one month, for two, for six, for a year. The spinner spun no more. The Count had ceased to persecute her, but he still refused his consent to the marriage. Guilbert became impatient.
The poor girl loved him with her whole soul, and she was more unhappy than she had been before, when Burchard was only tormenting her body.
'Let us have done with it,' said Guilbert.
'Wait a little still,' pleaded Renelde.
But the young man grew weary. He came more rarely to Locquignol, and very soon he did not come at all. Renelde felt as if her heart would break, but she held firm.
One day she met the Count. She clasped her hands as if in prayer, and cried:
`My lord, have mercy!'
Burchard the Wolf turned away his head and passed on.
She might have humbled his pride had she gone to her spinning-wheel again, but she did nothing of the sort.
Not long after she learnt that Guilbert had left the country. He did not even come to say goodbye to her, but, all the same, she knew the day and hour of his departure, and hid herself on the road to see him once more.
When she came in she put her silent wheel into a corner, and cried for three days and three nights.

VII

So another year went by. Then the Count fell ill, and the Countess supposed that Renelde, weary of waiting, had begun her spinning anew; but when she came to the cottage to see, she found the wheel silent.
However, the Count grew worse and worse till he was given up by the doctors. The passing bell was rung, and he lay expecting death to come for him. But death was not so near as the doctors thought, and still he lingered.
He seemed in a desperate condition, but he got neither better nor worse. He could neither live nor die; he suffered horribly, and called loudly upon death to put an end to his pains.
In this extremity he remembered what he had told the little spinner long ago. If Death was so slow in coming, it was because he was not ready to follow the Reaper, having no shroud for his burial.
He sent to fetch Renelde, placed her by his bedside, and ordered her at once to go on spinning his shroud.
Hardly had the spinner begun to work when the Count began to feel his pains grow less.
Then at last his heart melted; he was sorry for all the evil he had done out of pride, and implored Renelde to forgive him. So Renelde forgave him, and went on spinning night and day, from dawn to dark and way after dark.
When the thread of the nettles was spun she wove it with her shuttle, and then cut the shroud and began to sew it.
And as before, when she sewed the Count felt his pains grow less, and the life sinking within him, and when the needle made the last stitch he gave his last sigh.

VIII

At the same hour Guilbert returned to the country, and, as he had never ceased to love Renelde, he married her the next week, seven days later.
He had lost two years of happiness, but comforted himself with thinking that his wife was a clever spinner, and, what was much more rare, a brave and good woman.

THE POWER OF PLACE - CHAPTER 9

Chapter 9: Promise and Peril in the Provinces

                      No matter where you are, there will always be people that separate or group themselves by religion, race, culture, etc. Each group has power and impacts the country even if they aren’t globals. 

People are usually in a sub-national unit in one way or another. A sub-national unit is any area that is below the level of state or country such as a county, district, or province. When a sub-national unit of a country comes to international attention, this indicates that there is a serious problem. Usually the problem is cause by a conflict between the local and national government or when cultural forces become a threat to the state. Because of the worldwide agreement that sub-national units should not be allowed to impair the country, external forces such as the UN come in and make sure that no catastrophic events occur. Just because the core countries are more successful does not mean that they don’t encounter the same sub-national problems like the periphery do. For example, Yugoslavia broke into different countries because of the hatred between all the ethnic groups. Each group tried to get even with each other, and conflict kept breaking out. Eventually the UN had to intervene and make peace between these groups. Although the core and periphery countries are equally vulnerable to these problems, peace and success are less likely to be found in the periphery countries. For example, after all the problems in Somalia, the country ended up having a starvation, drought, refugee crisis, and external forces’ aid gone wrong. All these differences and regions keep the world rough, but as these differences become similarities in the core and periphery countries, the world is becoming flatter.

Chapter 9: Promise and Peril in the Provinces

Within every country there are regions separated by culture, language, government, and ethnicity. Chapter 9 expresses how each region has an impact on the country itself. To a business entrepreneur in the capital, to a group of farmers living in edge sites, each group of people in that country can decide what fate lies in the place they live.

Subnational Units and Their Evolving Roles
  A subnational unit is a territory that is below the level of state and country defined in some significant way (De Blij, 2009, p.209). An example of one is in Belgium, which is separated into two regions based on language: Flanders, who speak Flemish, and Wallonia, who speak French (and, as well, Brussels which is a mixture of the two, the capital). Belgium was very rough because the language barrier left many people separated, but after World War Two, the regions seemed to break up making the country "flatter" (De Blij, 2009, p. 211). England is split into 9 different regions for voting purposes as well. Unfortuantly 78% of the voters rejected to it, so London continued with the voting system that it previously had.

Rough Times in the Core
    Just because the core is successful and prosperous does not mean it is all peaceful. Take Yugoslavia (the present-day Balkans) for example. In 1990, war broke out between the country's 17 ethnic regions. People living so close together had so much hatred toward each other that they broke off into their own separate countries. The problem was when the countries needed resources for each other conflict kept breaking out (De Blij, 2009, p.220). Eventually the UN had to step in and build the destroyed sites, and they tried to bring the countries at peace.

A Latent Threat 
   These regions of the world help keep the world rough, but unfortunately the more these barriers break and merge the more "flat" we are going to get. "All over the world, local aspersions reveal that the landscape of political geography is jagged and still eroding." (De Blij, 2009, p.232) states that our government, cultural, and language is becoming more similar in the core and periphery.