The Enchanted Windmill

Ever so many ages ago, there were a couple of fairies, who had a very

interesting family of fairy children, that lived entirely in the air.

The father was named Heet and the mother named Koud.

If we were to translate these names out of Flemish, I suppose we might

call them Heat and Cold. Curious names, were they not?

But then, if we knew all the names of the fairies, we should laugh at

many of them, as being very funny.

This fairy father and mother had many children, which, altogether, they

called Wenda; that is, if we use the oldest form of the speech which

the Flemings used. On our tongues, this becomes Winds. In different

parts of the world, these wind-fairies were spoken of, according as

their dispositions were rough or gentle, in their behavior; or, noisy

or sweet in sound; or, as they were scorching or freezing; but all

winds are born of Heat and Cold, but only four were very well known by

their names.

But now it is time to tell about the enchanted windmill, that first

began its career along with winds, among which Zephyrus was the best

liked and most attractive. The other wind fairies, children of Heet and

Koud, were not exactly envious of their handsome and popular brother,

Zephyrus, or of Flora his wife; but they wanted to show that they also

could do something for human beings, even if not able to give them such

lovely things as flowers or fruit. So the three met together to see

what could be done.

Now one of the wise men, among mortals, had said that three good things

a man could do, and at least one of these he ought to do—to have and

name a child, or a flower, or a book.

When this was told to the other three wind fairies, Eurus, Boreas, and

Auster, they were at first downcast. They had no children, and as for

flowers, they were out of the question; for Zephyrus and Flora had all

to do with these. As for writing books, that was not the business of

fairies, but of men and women.

However, after long thought, they hit upon a plan, by which, working

altogether, they might help human beings. If they could not have

handsome children, they could at least save toil and trouble to others

when grown up. With the help of the fairies, they could more quickly

redeem swamps and morasses, changing them into lovely gardens and good

grain fields, where flowers could grow and food be raised. They saw how

hard men had to labor, in order to lift, pump, saw, hoist, grind, and

polish. In draining the land, in cutting down trees, to make houses,

and in grinding the grain, to make bread, men certainly needed help.

They made up their minds that, while flowers were good, there were

times, when bread and cake, cookies and crullers, puddings, and

waffles, pot pie and potatoes might be better.

They summoned the elves of the mine and the forest to help them, and

all together, they built a mill. It had long arms and sails outside,

while within, were axles, wheels, windlass, ropes, pulleys, and

grinding stones.

Set to other machinery, the mill could turn grain into flour for bread,

and pump water out of a ditch, to make rich farm land, besides doing

many other things.

The wind fairies were delighted with their success, and first, they

made a present of the windmill to the Saracens, who employed it for

hundreds of years.

But this is the way the first windmill was used. It was put on a raft,

and floated on the water; so that men could pull it round to face the

winds, as they blew. No one had then ever thought of putting it on

land, or making a house of it.

By and bye, the crusaders from the Netherlands visited the Orient, and

became acquainted with new seeds, flowers, fruits, and things they had

never seen before, or at home. They watched with wonder the windmills,

whirling their huge arms around and doing the work of thousands of men

and horses.

Now there was a smart Fleming, Mynheer Molenaar, and crusader under

Godfrey de Bouillon. When at home, he had been a miller on his lord’s

manor. After studying the workings of the windmill, he put its parts on

a ship and brought it home.

Then he built a raft, and, putting his windmill together, followed the

custom, of hauling it around, according as the wind might blow. He

anchored it by the Scheldt river side. As everyone wanted to get his

grain ground more cheaply, by wind, than by horse power, the Belgian

miller soon had plenty of customers and quickly made money.

But one day, the river rose to a flood and swept the windmill down and

out to the sea. Distracted by his loss, and with poverty staring him in

the face, he tore his hair with rage, and mourned all day and late into

the night. Toward morning, he fell into a heavy slumber.

In his dreams, a Belgian wind fairy, accompanied by a Kabouter,

appeared to him. Surprised at seeing a radiant and silvery creature, as

bright as a star, alongside of a short, stumpy fellow, who was holding

a box full of hammers and chisels, he forgot his troubles, and laughed

heartily, smiling a welcome to both.

“We are glad you seem happier,” said the shining one, “for we have long

wanted to help you and are ready to serve; for we fairies of the

Netherlands, aided by our good friends, the Kabouters, have an idea for

an improved windmill, that can beat either the Saracens, or the Greeks;

for we can do what they could not.” Then they told how to make a mill

that could turn its face to any wind that blew.

The Kabouter nodded, as if to say “yes,” and made what was rather a

funny sort of a grin.

But Molenaar smiled again at this project, which seemed so nearly the

impossible, as to be absurd, or an enchantment.

Altogether, with the contrast of a starry maiden and a blacksmith

dwarf, the miller laughed again and this time, so loud, that he awoke.

But, pondering what the bright fairy had said to him, he resolved to

act. That very day, with his head swelling with a new idea, he called

together blacksmiths, masons, bricklayers, carpenters, and machinists.

He paid them high wages, and urged on the building of a windmill on the

land; yes, like a house, and a windmill that was to serve many

purposes.

“He’s a fool, that fellow Molenaar, he is! The idea of making a

dwelling and mill in one, and building it on land!” said one man who

thought he knew all about windmills.

“Have the fairies cast a spell, on him?” asked another.

“The Wappers have certainly turned his brain,” said a third.

“He’s riding a Kludde horse, that’s what he’s doing,” jeered a fourth.

Then, all together, they tapped their foreheads with their forefingers,

and uttered what became a proverb:

“He has a mill in his head.”

But Molenaar persevered. In less than a month, he had a comfortable

brick house, three stories high, with a space like a cylinder, running

down through the centre, and with stairways up to the floors above. On

the first, or ground floor, was his flour mill, with grinding stones

and bins. On the second, were four rooms for his family. On the third,

were his parlor and linen closet; besides a playroom for the children.

On the top were the wheels, axles, and sails; with a wide veranda, all

the way around, by which the sails could be trimmed, reefed, or furled.

It was as good as a ship, and the children could take a walk all the

way around the millhouse.

For three days, the breezes blew steadily from the west. For eight

hours a day, the stones revolved merrily, and the bins were filled with

meal.

Then the wind changed and swung around to the north.

“Now we’ll see what the old fellow will do with his mill-house,” said

envious scoffers, as they passed by.

They had not noticed the contrivance, about which the fairies had told

Molenaar. Around on the other side of the house, there was a windlass,

with three long timbers reaching to the top. This, they had not seen

before. It was a cap, or movable top.

A few turns of the windlass and the whole machinery, sails and all,

faced the north wind. Soon the long arms, set with canvas, were

whirling around at full speed, and most merrily the grit stones were

turning, and the meal filling the bin.

It would be too long a story to tell, how this new sort of a

Netherlands windmill could saw wood, pump the water out of ponds, and

swamps, hoist barrels, and load wagons, besides grinding grain. In a

few generations, both sandy Flanders, and swampy Holland were changed

from heaths and mudholes, to a vast area of lovely flowers, beautiful

gardens, and fruitful farms. The wind fairies had been only waiting,

for ages, to become the servants of man.