The Long Wappers, and Their Tricks

In his rambles in Belgium, the story-teller found no parts of any city

in the land equal in interest to those of old Antwerp. If he sauntered

down toward evening, into the narrow streets and through the stone

gateway, blackened with age, under which the great Charles V. rode, the

fairies and funny folks seemed almost as near to him as the figures in

real history. Here, many a prince or princess made their “joyous

entry,” into the wonderful city of Brabo, the boy hero, who slew the

cruel giant Antigonus and cut off his cruel hands.

Here, the story-teller noticed a great many images of the Virgin Mary;

whereas, in the newer parts of the city, there were few or none. They

were usually set in the house corners, where two streets came together.

Inquiring into the reason of this, he discovered a new kind of Belgian

fairy, the Wapper, famous for his long legs and funny tricks. Here were

fairies on stilts.

This mischievous fellow was very active in old times. He could be as

long, or as short, as it pleased him. He could stretch his body out,

and up to the house roofs, or shrink it down, as if it were made of

India rubber, according to his whim. For example, he would sit on a

bridge, and lengthen his legs out until they were as thin as those of a

mosquito. Again, he could drink until his body bulged out like a plum

pudding, or a bag of oats. He was very fond of milk, and would suck or

swallow it, until he looked the way a mosquito does, that has bored a

hole through a fat boy’s skin, and filled himself so red and round,

that you would think he might burst.

In days, centuries ago, the Long Wappers, as they were sometimes

called, used to go around the streets of old Antwerp at dusk. Or, in

the dark night, they would wait in lonely places and run off with the

people. No one ever heard of any good boys or girls being snatched

away, but drunken louts, coming home very late, that is toward

midnight, from the dram shops, were often caught. The Wappers would

seize them by the hair, swing them round, and then toss them into the

gutters, till they were black with mud; or, they would throw them into

the Scheldt River. Occasionally a toper would be found in a hog pen,

sleeping with the sow and her piggies. When the man woke up, about

noon, he could not tell how he ever got there; but the Wappers knew,

and they kept their secret.

How numerous the Wappers were, the story-teller never could find out.

It was in their power, to be as wee as a baby, or as big as a giant.

That was the peculiar thing about them. It was very funny, that this

kind of fairies never weighed more or less. No matter how much they

drank of milk, they were never any heavier, or lighter, for it. And to

their length, or shortness, they were more like earthworms that, in

crawling, can be long, or short, as they please.

Sometimes the Wappers rose up out of the water, or sat on the bridges

with their feet cooling in the stream. In that position, from their

toes, up to their bodies, their legs looked more like black threads, or

wires; or, as if a strand from a spider’s web had broken loose. If the

water was not very deep, then they seemed to be on stilts.

One particular stream of water was named the Wapper’s Rui, or Wapper’s

Creek, and the bridge crossing it was called the Wapper’s Bruck. While

the Wapper was wading in the water, he seemed to be as long as a

lightning rod, but as soon as the creature reached the bank, to step

out, on land, his legs shortened to the size of a boy’s.

When on the bridge, he pulled up his wiry limbs, and looked like any

human youngster. When he made use, to the utmost, of this elastic power

of lengthening or shortening himself, the mischievous rascal elongated

himself until his legs were like stilts, so that he could look down

into the church windows. Then he would howl at the priests and the

people, or make faces at them, and follow them home from the mass.

With his spidery legs, drawn out as thin as threads, he stretched

himself upward toward the house roofs. Then he poked his long, curly

nose, even into the top windows, usually just as the maids were going

to bed, and nearly scared them out of their wits. They cried out “Holy

Mother,” and crossed themselves, whereat he lowered himself and fled.

His favorite trick, however, was to make himself look like a foundling

baby, or a very small child, crying and pretending to be hungry. He was

always well wrapped up, and attracted attention. One day, a young

nursing mother, that had left her baby at home for a few minutes, to

run out to buy something, saw, as she thought, the poor little one.

In the goodness of her motherly heart, the woman took it up and gave it

refreshment, meanwhile patting its back most affectionately. She

crooned to herself, “arme pop,” “kinde,” “lieveling,” “trotekind” (poor

baby, darling, lovey-dovey, trotty-kin), and other affectionate words,

such as Flemish mothers use in the nursery. Meanwhile, the baby kept on

with its breakfast.

But after five or ten minutes, when the supposed infant had drained

both breasts, the woman thought of her own little one, in the cradle at

home, and wondered whether her darling would have to go hungry.

Then she noticed that the strange baby’s stomach was swollen, almost as

round as a big ball, for it had, from the first moment shown symptoms

of ravenous hunger, and its body got bigger and bigger.

Horrified at this, she wrapped up the foundling and was about to lay it

down, where she found it, and leave it there; when, out of the bundle,

jumped a Wapper. He shook off the swaddling clothes, left them in the

street, and ran off howling, laughing and gibbering.

When boys were coming home from school, they often stopped and played

the game of “stuif hoed,” or “shove the hat.” Each boy took turns in

slinging his hat down in the ring; or, another seized it from his head

and pushed it, or kicked it about, with their wooden shoes, until the

owner recovered it. Some boys grew very expert at this game, and all

were eager to get first kick with their klomps.

The Wapper usually found out, beforehand, which one of the urchins had

not been at school that day, then he changed himself into a boy, to

look like the one who was absent. At the right moment, he threw down

his hat. When one of the lads rushed up and gave it a tremendous kick,

his klomp, or wooden shoe, flew in pieces, and he howled with pain, for

his toes were nearly broken. The Wapper had, just for the fun of it,

put an iron pot under the hat. When everybody was laughing at the poor

boy, who was limping home, the Wapper could not be seen anywhere.

In fact, this fiendish fairy was always playing April fool jokes on

people. He would lay a hat on the pavement, but, hidden under it, was a

brick or stone, for some fellow to stub his toe upon.

The Wapper often went into a tavern, and, joining in a game of cards,

would make the players cheat each other. Then a fight followed and some

one would get hurt. If they had been drinking heavily, one might get

killed.

Or, the Wapper would go about the town selling mussels to housekeepers.

These shell fish are called mussels, because each one looks like a

little mouse. But when a woman would let one of these pass her lips,

out would crawl, not a mouse, but a spider; or, she would find her

mouth full of sand. When the housewives discovered who and what this

peddler of shell fish was, they would go after him with tongs, or

rolling pins, or even chairs and stools, but at the first alarm, he

lengthened his legs and rushed off so fast, that no one could ever

catch him. Then again, he was called the Long Wapper.

But by and bye, it was noticed that whenever the Wapper came to an

image or shrine of the Virgin Mary, he was afraid to pass it, and

turned back. It was a woman, with sharp eyes, who first made this

discovery, and all her neighbors honored her highly for her smartness.

Some thought she ought to be made a saint.

So at once it became the fashion to make or buy images of the Holy

Mother, and set them out in front of houses, over the doors or windows.

It came to pass that the shops, where religious goods were sold, soon

did a roaring business. Not only that, but whenever a new house was

built, the architect set a niche in the angle, and there they built a

shrine. Corner houses were especially well provided in this way, for by

thus guarding two streets at once, the Long Wapper was double fooled,

and so prevented from playing his tricks, whether high or low. By such

means, they got rid of the Wappers in Antwerp.

Nobody ever sees this Belgian species of daddy longlegs nowadays, and

it is supposed that specimens are seen only among the sandhills of the

Campine. It is said that the Wappers are very mad about it, because

they can do so little mischief, as compared with the good old times,

when they broke the toes of boys, scared housemaids, deceived kind

mothers, and made themselves a nuisance generally. No one nowadays ever

hears even the word “wapper,” unless it be applied to a swing bridge,

or the flap of a sail, or to some foolish person, who is more or less

silly. They may use the Wapper’s picture as a comic valentine.

In fact, so low has the reputation of the Wappers fallen, that many

Flemish folk think that their tribe is represented today by the Kludde.

The Kludde have no tongues, and they usually change themselves into

old, worn out horses that are seen browsing in the sandy fields along

the canals, in the heath country or in the Campine. A rustic fellow,

thinking to get a ride, mounts the supposed horse. Then, at a gallop,

the beast rushes forward and tumbles the man into the ditch, while the

nag bounds away crying, or grunting out “Kludde, Kludde.” But some

people say the Kludde are more numerous, where dram shops abound.

When the swing bridge, over the street of water, in the towns has been

lifted into the air, to let a boat with masts, go through the canal,

school boys rush over it, to get the bounce, when it thumps down level;

and they may call the bump a “Wapper.”

But who wants to be a Wapper?