Someone knocked at the door today, and there was a Schornsteinfeger. A chimney sweep. When they come to the door, you have to let them in, it’s a law, and custom. They are usually good-looking young men, sometimes women, and they often drive a black bicycle. They wear all black uniforms, with a patch or two containing good luck sigils, and some of them wear black top hats. There aren’t that many these days who make the most of their folkloric reputation, but ev
ery now and again you see one who plays up the whole chimney sweep identity.
ery now and again you see one who plays up the whole chimney sweep identity. The broom, crossed flails and stars of this rubber stamp image for professional chimney sweeps has deeply magical associations.
Touching sweeps brings good luck. They keep the fires away from your house—mostly, now, because they check your heating system to make sure that it is working, not leaking any gas. Everything was in order. We will soon receive a bill for about 60 Euros, which we are required by law to pay. Even if we heated our house with beggar’s velvet and star dust, and could prove no incendiary devices of any kind were needed, we would have to let him in and would have to pay the bill. What extraordinary job security.
Our Schornsteinfeger was tall and thin, and perfectly blonde, with lovely blue eyes. His black uniform smelled of wood smoke, and his fingernails were smeared with black ashes. A skinny kid. Olivia came out of her room and we each touched his sleeve, laughing, for good luck. What a great job—you can’t be refused, and everyone wants to touch you. One would come to believe in your own power of good luck. The power to ward off fire.
I see them as related to the Coal Black Smith. Smiths were magical and dangerous because they could raise and tend fire hot enough to form the most important tools, and this gave them a devilishly powerful reputation—just for having the guts to play with fire like the gods. These entities exist not only in the Spirit World, but also as archetypes which ignite subconscious rememberings in us.
I see these ancient archetypes as having splintered into various forms in the early modern era, as city life transformed entire societies in middle Europe. Often, the domestication of these archetypes meant that over time they lost their threatening powers, but remained potent subconscious reminders. For example, witches were initially wise women, containing both good and bad powers. Their reputation became exclusively evil, as framed by the church. But the storyteller aspect of their wisdom needed to be retained, and found expression in images of Mother Goose. (I will write about her in posts to come.)
The oldest origins of sweeps places them symbolically as walkers-between-worlds, because they used to enter the chimneys physically, and were most often children. Chimneys are where fire lives; they are dangerous places, and narrow, but cleaning them out in the days of daily use was vital for avoiding fires that could destroy entire closely packed 13—17th Century towns within a twenty four hour period. There are many postcards featuring cherub-faced sweeps from the late 19th and early 20th centuries (usually sent as good luck charms at the New Year) but their work was some of the most dangerous that children were then pressed in to doing.
Our Schornsteinfeger was tall and thin, and perfectly blonde, with lovely blue eyes. His black uniform smelled of wood smoke, and his fingernails were smeared with black ashes. A skinny kid. Olivia came out of her room and we each touched his sleeve, laughing, for good luck. What a great job—you can’t be refused, and everyone wants to touch you. One would come to believe in your own power of good luck. The power to ward off fire.
I see them as related to the Coal Black Smith. Smiths were magical and dangerous because they could raise and tend fire hot enough to form the most important tools, and this gave them a devilishly powerful reputation—just for having the guts to play with fire like the gods. These entities exist not only in the Spirit World, but also as archetypes which ignite subconscious rememberings in us.
I see these ancient archetypes as having splintered into various forms in the early modern era, as city life transformed entire societies in middle Europe. Often, the domestication of these archetypes meant that over time they lost their threatening powers, but remained potent subconscious reminders. For example, witches were initially wise women, containing both good and bad powers. Their reputation became exclusively evil, as framed by the church. But the storyteller aspect of their wisdom needed to be retained, and found expression in images of Mother Goose. (I will write about her in posts to come.)
The oldest origins of sweeps places them symbolically as walkers-between-worlds, because they used to enter the chimneys physically, and were most often children. Chimneys are where fire lives; they are dangerous places, and narrow, but cleaning them out in the days of daily use was vital for avoiding fires that could destroy entire closely packed 13—17th Century towns within a twenty four hour period. There are many postcards featuring cherub-faced sweeps from the late 19th and early 20th centuries (usually sent as good luck charms at the New Year) but their work was some of the most dangerous that children were then pressed in to doing.
The ladders they carried in the past also had a magical, liminal meaning.The chimney has always been a portal between the worlds. Chimneys in old houses often contain spells and charms in the form of pet skeletons, or shoes, or flasks hidden between their bricks or under their foundations. Apparently these communications were placed there in that portal to purposely step over the line between our world and the world beyond. Santa Claus travels down the chimney from his magical world to ours. The greedy wolf foolishly used it to try to enter the pigs’ brick house safety zone and was burnt to death. Old time witches were taught to fly up the chimney to go on their midnight shamanic rambles.
My first shamanic teacher taught me to do the same. He said: you have to leave the house without leaving your house—how are you going to get out? When I chose the chimney, he twinkled at me.
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