It is an old saying, that " the devil is not so black
as he is painted." This proverb receives confirmation from the following
story, which shows that the appearance of his Satanic majesty on earth may occasionally
be attended with very agreeable consequences.
In the year 1742, during the first Silesian war, Colonel de
la Motte Fouque, afterwards a Prussian general, received orders from
Field-marshal Schwerin to occupy the town of Kremsir, in Moravia, with his
battalion of grenadiers. Among other precautions which he adopted on taking
possession of the place, he stationed a sentry upon the ramparts, not far from
the house of a catholic priest. Rumour had given a bad character to this
quarter of the town; and it was universally believed that the devil himself
was frequently to be seen prowling about there. The Prussian sentinel had
ocular demonstration of the accuracy of this report on the very first night;
for no sooner had the hour of spirits arrived, than the Prince of Darkness
appeared, all in black, with horns, claws, and a long tail, and armed with a
dung-fork.
The grenadier posted at this place was a fearless veteran,
who had long wished to fall in with his Infernal Majesty. Instead of being
dismayed and deserting his post, he calmly awaited the gradual approach of the
sable figure, which seemed to take no notice of his challenge of "Who's there?" Advancing close to him, it
held forth the three-pronged weapon, and in a fearful voice threatened him with
instant death.
Conscious that he was engaged in the performance of his
duty, the soldier was very little, if at all, alarmed. He coolly awaited the
assault, parried the thrust of the dung-fork with his bayonet, and courageously
seized his Satanic opponent. He held him tightly grasped, regardless of the
screams of agony which his nervous gripe extorted from the writhing daemon.
Some of his comrades, who were at hand, soon hastened to the assistance of the brave grenadier, and having secured Old Hornie, dragged him away to the nearest
guard-house.
Next morning he was conducted in his infernal accouterments
escorted by an immense crowd, through the town to the main-guard. Finding himself subjected to a rigorous military
examination, the devil had the condescension to answer in the humblest tone
every question that was proposed. It came out that he was no other man than the
Catholic priest himself, before whose house the sentinel was posted. Annoyed by
the incessant challenges of the latter, he imagined that a Protestant grenadier
might be terrified as easily as the most superstitious of his own communion;
but he was not so fortunate as to drive him from the vicinity of his habitation
by the mask which he assumed.
The other ecclesiastics of the town were aware that their
indiscreet colleague had, by his masquerade, not only cast a stigma on his
profession, but grossly offended against the laws of war; they, therefore, with
all humility solicited his release, and voluntarily offered to pay any fine
that might be imposed.
Colonel Fouque seized this opportunity of contributing the comfort of his grenadiers, who, like all the Prussian
soldiers in those days, wore white gaiters, and after the arduous campaign
which was just over had great need of new ones. He ordered a calculation to be
made of the cost of new black gaiters for his whole battalion. It amounted to
about one hundred ducats, which sum the Catholic clergy of the town cheerfully
paid to atone for the misconduct of their colleague.
The unlucky representative of Old Nick was sent to a convent
to expiate his indiscretion; and the grenadiers were supplied with black
gaiters, which rendered them good service in their subsequent marches. They
jocularly observed that they had to thank the devil of Kremsir for their new
leggings; and the king himself was so well pleased with the innovation of
Colonel Fouque, that he determined to furnish his whole army with black
gaiters, instead of the white ones which had hitherto been universally worn.
