Fort, fort! Mich schau' die Sonne nicht,Ich darf nicht langer harren;Mich Elfenkind vor ihren LichtSähst du sum Fels erstarren.La Motte Fouqué.Away! let not the sun view me,I dare no longer stay;An Elfin-child thou wouldst me see,To stone turn at his ray.
Fort, fort! Mich schau' die Sonne nicht,Ich darf nicht langer harren;Mich Elfenkind vor ihren LichtSähst du sum Fels erstarren.La Motte Fouqué.
Away! let not the sun view me,I dare no longer stay;An Elfin-child thou wouldst me see,To stone turn at his ray.
These beings are called Zwerge (Dwarfs), Berg- and Erd-mänlein (HillandGround-mannikins), the Stille Volk (Still-people), and the Kleine Volk (Little-people).[260]The following account of the Still-people at Plesse will give the popular idea respecting them.[261]
At Plesse, a castle in the mountains in Hesse, are various springs, wells, clefts and holes in the rocks, in which, according to popular tradition, the Dwarfs, called the Still-people, dwell. They are silent and beneficent, and willingly serve those who have the good fortune to please them. If injuredthey vent their anger, not on mankind, but on the cattle, which they plague and torment. This subterranean race has no proper communication with mankind, but pass their lives within the earth, where their apartments and chambers are filled with gold and precious stones. Should occasion require their visit to the surface of the earth, they accomplish the business in the night, and not by day. This Hill-people are of flesh and bone, like mankind, they bear children and die, but in addition to the ordinary faculties of humanity, they have the power of making themselves invisible, and of passing through rocks and walls, with the same facility as through the air. They sometimes appear to men, lead them with them into clifts, and if the strangers prove agreeable to them, present them with valuable gifts.[262]
Old people have positively asserted that some years ago, at the celebration of a wedding in the village of Glass, a couple of miles from the Wunderberg, and the same distance from the city of Saltzburg, there came toward evening a little Hill-man out of the Wunderberg. He desired all the guests to be merry and cheerful, and begged to be permitted to join in their dance, which request was not refused. He accordingly danced three dances with some of the maidens of good repute, and with a gracefulness that inspired all present with admiration and delight. After the dance he returned them his thanks, accompanied by a present to each of the bridal party of three pieces of money of an unknown coin, each of which they estimated to be worth four creutzers. Moreover, he recommended them to dwell in peace and concord, to live like Christians, and, by a pious education, to bring up their children in goodness. He told them to lay up thesecoins with their money, and constantly to think of him, and so they would rarely come to distress; but warned them against becoming proud, and advised them, on the contrary, to relieve their neighbours with their superfluities.
The Hill-man remained with them till night, and took some meat and drink from each as they offered it to him, but only very little. He then renewed his thanks, and concluded by begging of one of the company to put him over the river Satzach, opposite the mountain. There was at the wedding a boatman, named John Ständl, who got ready to comply with the dwarf's request, and they went together to the water's-edge. As they were crossing, the man asked for his payment, and the Hill-man humbly presented him threepence. The boatman utterly rejected this paltry payment; but the little man gave him for answer, that he should not let that annoy him, but keep the threepence safe, and he would never suffer want, provided he put a restraint on arrogance. He gave him at the same time, a little stone with these words: "Hang this on your neck, and you will never be drowned in the water." And of this he had a proof that very year. Finally, the Hill-man exhorted him to lead a pious and humble life, and being landed on the opposite bank, departed speedily from the place.[263]
There appeared in the night to one of the Counts von Hoya, an extremely small little man. The count was utterly amazed at him, but he bid him not to be frightened; said he had a request to make of him, and entreated that he might not be refused. The count gave a willing assent, qualified with the provision, that the thing requested should be a matter which lay in his power, and would not be injurious to him or his. The little man then said, "Therewill come tomorrow night some people to thy house, and make a feast, if thou will lend them thy kitchen, and hall for as long as they want them, and order thy servants to go to sleep, and no one to look at what they are doing or are about; and also let no one know of it but thyself; only do this and we shall be grateful to thee for thy courtesy: thou and thy family will be the better of it; nor will it be in any way hurtful to thee or thine." The count readily gave his consent, and on the following night there came, as if they were a travelling party, over the bridge into the house a great crowd of little people, exactly such as the Hill-mannikins are described to be. They cooked, cut up wood, and laid out the dishes in the kitchen, and had every appearance of being about preparing a great entertainment.
When it drew near the morning, and they were about to take their departure, the little man came again up to the count, and with many thanks, presented him a sword, a salamander-cloth, and a golden ring, in which there was inserted a red-lion, with directions for himself and his descendants to keep these three articles safe; and so long as they kept them together all would be at unity and well in the county, but as soon as they were separated from each other it would be a token that there was evil coming on the county: the red lion too would always become pale when one of the family was to die.
They were long preserved in the family; but in the time when count Jobst and his brothers were in their minority, and Francis von Halle was governor of the land, two of the articles, the sword and the salamander-cloth, were taken away, but the ring remained with the family until they became extinct. What has become of it since is unknown.[264]
Close to the little town of Dardesheim, between Halberstadt and Brunswick, is a spring of the finest water called the Smansborn, and which flows out of a hill in which in old times the dwarfs dwelt. When the former inhabitants of the country were in want of a holiday-dress, or, at a family festival, of any rare utensils, they went and stood before this Dwarf-hill, knocked three times, and pronounced their petition in a distinct and audible tone, adding,
Before the sun is up to-morrow.At the hill shall be the things we borrow.[265]
Before the sun is up to-morrow.At the hill shall be the things we borrow.[265]
The Dwarfs thought themselves sufficiently compensated if there was only some of the festive victuals set down before the hill.
The little people of the Eilenburg in Saxony had occasion to celebrate a wedding, and with that intent passed one night through the key-hole and the window-slits into the castle-hall, and jumped down on the smooth level floor like peas on a barn floor. The noise awoke the old count, who was sleeping in the hall in his high four-post bed, and on opening his eyes, he wondered not a little at the sight of such a number of the little fellows.
One of them appareled as a herald came up to him, and addressing him with the utmost courtesy and in very polite terms invited him to share in their festivity. "We, however," added he, "have one request to make, which is, that you alone should be present, and that none of your peopleshould presume to look on with you, or to cast so much as one glance." The old count answered in a friendly tone, "Since you have disturbed my sleep, I will join your company." A little small woman was now introduced to him; little torch-bearers took their places; and cricket-music struck up. The count found great difficulty to keep from losing the little woman in the dance, she jumped away from him so lightly, and at last whirled him about at such a rate that he could with difficulty recover his breath.
But in the very middle of their spritely dance, suddenly all became still, the music ceased, and the whole company hurried to the slits of the doors, mouse-holes, and everywhere else where there was a corner to slip into. The bride-pair, the heralds, and dancers, looked upwards to a hole that was in the ceiling of the hall, and there discovered the face of the old countess, who overflowing with curiosity, was looking down on the joyous assembly. They then bowed themselves before the count, and the person who had invited him stept forward again and thanked him for the hospitality he had shown them: "But," said he, "since our wedding and our festivity has been thus disturbed by another eye gazing on it, your race shall henceforward never count more than seven Eilenburgs." They then pressed out after one another with great speed, and soon all was silent, and the old count alone in the dark hall. The curse has lasted till the present time, and one of six living knights of Eilenburg has always died before the seventh was born.[266]
On the east side of the Dwarf-hill of Dardesheim there is a piece of arable land. A smith named Riechert had sown this field with peas; but he observed that when they were just in perfection they were pulled in great quantities. Riechert built himself a little hut on his ground, there tolie in wait for the thief; and there he watched day and night. In the daytime he could see no alteration, but every morning he found that, notwithstanding all his watchfulness, the field had been plundered during the night. Vexed to the heart at seeing that all his labour was in vain, he determined to thresh out on the ground what remained of the peas. So with the daybreak Smith Riechert commenced his work. Hardly was one half of his peas threshed when he heard a piteous wailing, and on going to look for the cause, he found on the ground under the peas one of the dwarfs whose skull he had rapped with his flail, and who was now visible, having lost his mist-cap with the blow. The Dwarf ran back into the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.
However, little tiffs like this disturbed but for a very short time the good understanding of the Dwarf-people and the inhabitants. But the Dwarfs emigrated at last, because the tricks and scoffs of several of the inhabitants were become no longer bearable, as well as their ingratitude for several services they had rendered them. Since that time no one has ever heard or seen anything of the Dwarfs in the neighbourhood.
'Tis not very long since there were Dwarfs at Jüne near Göttingen, who used to go into the fields and steal the sheaves of corn. This they were able to do the more easily by means of a cap they wore, which made them invisible. They did much injury to one man in particular who had a great deal of corn. At length he hit on a plan to catch them. At noon one day he put a rope round the field, and when the Dwarfs went to creep under it, it knocked off their caps. Being now visible, they were caught. They gave him many fair words, promising if he would take away the rope to give him a peck (mette) of money if he came to that same placebefore sunrise. He agreed, but a friend whom he consulted told him to go not at sunrise but a little beforetwelve at night, as it was at that hour that the day really began. He did as directed, and there he found the Dwarfs, who did not expect him, with the peck of money. The name of the family that got it is Mettens.
A farmer in another part of the country being annoyed in a similar manner, was told to get willow-rods and beat the air with them, and he thus would knock of some of their caps and discover them. He and his people did so, and they captured one of the Dwarfs, who told the farmer that if he would let him go, he would give him a waggon-load of money, but he must come for it before sunrise. At the same time he informed him where his abode was. The farmer having enquired when the sun really rose, and being told at twelve o'clock, yoked his waggon and drove off, but when he came to the Dwarfs' hole, he heard them shouting and singing within:
It is good that the bumpkin doth not knowThat up at twelve the sun doth go.[267]
It is good that the bumpkin doth not knowThat up at twelve the sun doth go.[267]
When he asked for something, they showed him a dead horse, and bade him take it with him, as they could give him nothing else. He was very angry at this, but as he wanted food for his dogs, he cut off a large piece and laid it on his waggon. But when he came home, lo! it was all pure gold. Others then went to the place, but both hole and horse had vanished.[268]
On the north side of the Hartz there dwelt several thousand Dwarfs in the clefts of the rocks, and in the Dwarf-caves that still remain. It was, however, but rarely that they appeared to the inhabitants in a visible form; they generallywent about among them protected by their mist-caps, unseen and unnoticed.
Many of these Dwarfs were good-natured, and, on particular occasions, very obliging to the inhabitants, who used, for instance, in case of a wedding or a christening, to borrow various articles for the table out of the caves of the Dwarfs, It was, however, highly imprudent to provoke their resentment; as when injured or offended, they were malicious and wicked, and did every possible injury to the offender.
A baker, who lived in the valley between Blenkenburg and Quedlinburg, used to remark that a part of the loaves he baked was always missing, though he never could find out the thief. This continual secret theft was gradually reducing him to poverty. At last he began to suspect the Dwarfs of being the cause of his misfortune. He accordingly got a bunch of little twigs, and beating the air with them in all directions, at length struck the mist-caps off some Dwarfs, who could now conceal themselves no longer. There was a great noise made about it; several other Dwarfs were caught in the act of committing theft, and at last the whole of the Dwarf-people were forced to quit the country. In order, in some degree, to indemnify the inhabitants for what had been stolen, and at the same time to be able to estimate the number of those that departed, a large cask was set up on what is now called Kirchberg, near the village of Thele, into which each Dwarf was to cast a piece of money. This cask was found, after the departure of the Dwarfs, to be quite filled with ancient coins, so great was their number.
The Dwarf-people went by Warnstadt, a village not far from Quedlinburg, still going toward the east. Since that time the Dwarfs have disappeared out of this country; and it is only now and then that a solitary one may be seen.
The Dwarfs on the south side of the Hartz were, in a similar manner, detected plundering the corn-fields. They also agreed to quit the country, and it was settled that they should pass over a small bridge near Neuhof, and that each, by way of transit-duty, should cast a certain portion of his property into a cask to be set there. The peasants, on their part, covenanted not to appear or look at them.Some, however, had the curiosity to conceal themselves under the bridge, that they might at least hear them departing. They succeeded in their design, and heard during several hours, the trampling of the little men, sounding exactly as if a large flock of sheep was going over the bridge.
Other accounts of the departure of the Dwarfs relate as follows:—
The Dosenberg is a mountain in Hesse on the Schwalm, in which, not far from the bank of the stream, are two holes by which the Dwarfs[269]used to go in and out. One of them came frequently in a friendly way to the grandfather of Tobi in Singlis, when he was out in his fields. As he was one day cutting his corn he asked him if he would the next night, for a good sum of money, take a freight over the river. The farmer agreed, and in the evening the Dwarf brought him a sack of wheat as an earnest. Four horses were then put to the waggon, and the farmer drove to the Dosenberg, out of the holes of which the Dwarf brought heavy, but invisible loads to the waggon, which the farmer then drove through the water over to the other side. He thus kept going backwards and forwards from ten at night till four in the morning, by which time the horses were quite tired. Then said the Dwarf, "It is enough, now you shall see what you have been carrying!" He bade him look over his right shoulder, and then he saw the country far and near filled with the Dwarfs. "These thousand years," then said the Dwarf, "have we dwelt in the Dosenberg; our time is now up, and we must go to another land. But the hill is still so full of money that it would suffice for the whole country." He then loaded Tobi's waggon with money and departed. The farmer had difficulty in bringing home so heavy a load, but he became a rich man. His posterity are still wealthy people, but the Dwarfs have disappeared out of the country for ever.
At Offensen on the Aller in Lower Saxony, lived a greatfarmer, whose name was Hövermann. He had a boat on the river; and one day two little people came to him and asked him to put them over the water. They went twice over the Aller to a great tract of land that is called the Allerô,[270]which is an uncultivated plain extending so wide and far that one can hardly see over it. When the farmer had crossed the second time one of the Dwarfs said to him, "Will you have now a sum of money or so much a head?" "I'd rather have a sum of money," said the farmer. One of them took off his hat and put it on the farmer's head, and said, "You'd have done better to have taken so much a head." The farmer, who had as yet seen nothing and whose boat had gone as if there was nothing in it, now beheld the whole Allerô swarming (krimmeln un wimmeln) with little men. These were the Dwarfs that he had brought over. From that time forward the Hövermanns had the greatest plenty of money, but they are all now dead and gone, and the place is sold. But when was this? Oh! in the old time when the Dwarfs were in the world, but now there's no more of them, thirty or forty years ago.[271]
Albert Steffel, aged seventy years, who died in the year 1680, and Hans Kohmann, aged thirty-six, who died in 1679, two honest, veracious men, frequently declared that as one time Kohmann's grandfather was working in his ground which lay in the neighbourhood of the place called the Dwarfs' hole, and his wife had brought out to the field to him for his breakfast some fresh baked bread, and had laid it, tied up in a napkin, at the end of the field, there came up soon after a little Dwarf-woman, who spoke to himabout his bread, saying, that her own was in the oven, and that her children were hungry and could not wait for it, but that if he would give her his, she would be certain to replace it by noon. The man consented, and at noon she returned, spread out a very white little cloth, and laid on it a smoking hot loaf, and with many thanks and entreaties told him he might eat the bread without any apprehension, and that she would return for the cloth. He did as she desired, and when she returned she told him that there had been so many forges erected that she was quite annoyed, and would be obliged to depart and abandon her favourite dwelling. She also said that the shocking cursing and swearing of the people drove her away, as also the profanation of Sunday, as the country people, instead of going to church, used to go look at their fields, which was altogether sinful.[272]
It was the belief, in some parts of Germany, that if a child that was not thriving were taken to a place named Cyriac's Mead, near Neuhausen, and left lying there and given to drink out of Cyriac's Well, at the end of nine days it would either die or recover.
The butler and cook of one of the spiritual lords of Germany, without being married, had a child, which kept crying day and night, and evermore craving for food and yet it never grew nor throve. It was finally resolved to try on it the effect of Cyriac's Mead, and the mother set out for that place with the child on her back, whose weight was so great that she hardly could endure it. As she was toiling along under her burden, she met a travelling student, who said to her, "My good woman, what sort of a wild creature is that you are carrying? I should not wonder if it were to crush in your neck." She replied that it was her dear child which would not grow nor thrive, and that she was taking it to Neuhausen to be rocked. "But," said he, "that is not your child; it is the devil. Fling it into the stream." But she refused, and maintained that itwasher child, and kissed it. Then said he, "Your child is at home in the inner bedroom in a new cradle behind the ark. Throw, I tell you, this monster into the stream." With many tears and groans the poor woman at length did as he required and immediately there was heard under the bridge on which they were standing a howling and a growling as if wolves and bears were in the place. When the woman reached home she found her own child healthy and lively and laughing in its new cradle.
A Hessian legend tells that as a woman was reaping corn at the Dosenberg,[273]with her little child lying near her on the ground, a Dwarf-woman (wichtelweib) came and took it and left her own lying in its stead. When the mother came to look after her dear babe a great ugly jolterhead was there gaping at her. She cried out and roared Murder! so lustily that the thief came back with the child. But she did not restore it till the mother had put the changeling to her breast and given it some ennobling human milk.[274]
There was, it is said, in Prussian Samland, an inn-keeper whom the underground folk had done many good turns. It grieved him to see what bad clothes they had, and he desired his wife to leave new little coats for them. They took thenew clothes, but cried out, "Paid off! Paid off!" and went all away.[275]
Another time they gave great help to a poor smith, and every night they made bran-new pots, pans, kettles and plates for him. His wife used to leave some milk for them, on which they fell like wolves, and drained the vessel to the bottom, and then cleaned it and went to their work. When the smith had grown rich by means of them, his wife made for each of them a pretty little red coat and cap, and left them in their way. "Paid off! Paid off!" cried they, slipped on the new clothes, and went away without working the iron that was left for them, and never returned.
There was a being named a Scrat or Schrat, Schretel, Schretlein.[276]This name is used in old German to translatepilosusin the narratives of those who wrote in Latin, and it seems sometimes to denote a House- sometimes a Wood-spirit. Terms similar to it are to be found in the cognate languages, and it is perhaps the origin of Old Scratch, a popular English name of the devil.
There is, chiefly in Southern Germany, a species of beings that greatly resemble the Dwarfs. They are called Wichtlein (Little Wights), and are about three quarters of an ell high. Their appearance is that of old men with long beards. They haunt the mines, and are dressed like miners, with a white hood to their shirts and leather aprons, and are provided with lanterns, mallets, and hammers. They amuse themselves with pelting the workmen with small stones, but do them no injury, except when they are abused and cursed by them.
They show themselves most especially in places where there is an abundance of ore, and the miners are always glad to see them; they flit about in the pits and shafts, and appear to work very hard, though they in reality do nothing. Sometimes they seem as if working a vein, at other times putting the ore into buckets, at other times working at the windlass, but all is mere show. They frequently call, and when one comes there is no one to be seen.
At Kuttenburg, in Bohemia, the Wichtlein have been seen in great numbers. They announce the death of a miner by knocking three times, and when any misfortune is about to happen they are heard digging, pounding, and imitating all other kinds of work. At times they make a noise, as if they were smiths labouring very hard at the anvil, hence the Bohemians call them Haus-Schmiedlein (Little House-smiths).
In Istria the miners set, every day, in a particular place, a little pot with food in it for them. They also at certain times in each year buy a little red coat, the size of a small boy's, and make the Wichtlein a present of it. If they neglect this, the little people grow very angry.[277]
In Southern Germany they believe in a species of beings somewhat like the Dwarfs, called Wild, Wood, Timber, and Moss-people. These generally live together in society, but they sometimes appear singly. They are small in stature, yet somewhat larger than the Elf, being the size of children of three years, grey and old-looking, hairy and clad in moss. The women are of a more amiable temper than the men, which last live further back in the woods; they wear green clothes faced with red, and cocked-hats. The women come to the wood-cutters and ask them for something to eat; they also take it away of themselves out of the pots; but they always make a return in some way or other, often by giving good advice. Sometimes they help people in their cooking or washing and haymaking, and they feed the cattle. They are fond of coming where people are baking, and beg of them to bake for them also a piece of dough the size of half a mill-stone, and to leave it in a certain place. They sometimes, in return, bring some of their own baking to the ploughman, which they lay in the furrow or on the plough, and they are greatly offended if it is rejected. The wood-woman sometimes comes with a broken wheel-barrow, and begs to have the wheel repaired, and she pays by the chips which turn into gold, or she gives to knitters a ball of thread which is never ended. A woman who good-naturedly gave her breast to a crying Wood-child, was rewarded by itsmother by a gift of the bark on which it was lying. She broke a splinter off it and threw it into her faggot, and on reaching home she found it was pure gold. Their lives are attached, like those of the Hamadryads, to the trees, and if any one causes by friction the inner bark to loosen a Wood-woman dies.
Their great enemy is the Wild-Huntsman, who driving invisibly through the air pursues and kills them. A peasant one time hearing the usual baying and cheering in a wood, would join in the cry. Next morning he found hanging at his stable-door a quarter of a green Moss-woman as his share of the game. When the woodmen are felling timber they cut three crosses in a spot of the tree that is to be hewn, and the Moss-women sit in the middle of these and so are safe from the Wild-Huntsman.[278]
The following account of the popular belief in the parts of Germany adjacent to Jutland has been given by a late writer.[279]
In Friesland the Dwarfs are named Oennereeske, in some of the islands Oennerbänske, and in Holstein Unnerorske.[280]The same stories are told of them as of the Dwarfs and Fairies elsewhere. They take away, and keep for long periods, girls with whom they have fallen in love; they steal children and leave changelings in their stead, the remedy against which is to lay a bible under the child's pillow; they lend and borrow pots, plates, and such like, sometimes lending money with or even without interest; they aid to build houses and churches; help the peasant when his cart has stuck in the mire, and will bring him water and pancakes to refresh him when at work in the fields.
A poor girl went out one day and as she was passing by a hill she heard a Dwarf hammering away inside of it, for they are handy smiths, and singing at his work. She was so pleased with the song, that she could not refrain from wishing aloud that she could sing like him, and live like him under the ground. Scarcely had she expressed the wish when the singing ceased, and a voice came out of the hill, saying, "Should you like to live with us?" "To be sure I should," replied the girl, who probably had no very happy life of it above ground. Instantly the Dwarf came out of the hill and made a declaration of love, and a proffer of his hand and a share in his subterranean wealth. She accepted the offer and lived very comfortably with him, as he proved an excellent little husband.
The Friesland girls are, however, rather shy of these matches, and if they have unwarily been drawn into an engagement they try to get out of it if they possibly can.
A girl named Inge of Rantum had some way or other got into an engagement with one of the Underground people. The wedding-day was actually fixed, and she could only be released from her bond on one condition—that of being able, before it came, to tell the real name of her lover. All her efforts to that effect were in vain, the dreaded day was fast approaching and she fell into deep melancholy. On the morning of her wedding-day she went out and strolled in sorrowful mood through the fields, saying to herself, as she plucked some flowers, "Far happier are these flowersthan I." As she was stooping to gather them, she thought she heard a noise under the ground. She listened and recognised it as the voice at her lover, who, in the excess of his joy at the arrival of his wedding-day, was frolicking and singing, "To-day I must bake and boil and roast and broil and wash and brew; for this is my wedding-day. My bride is the fair Inge of Rantum, and my name is Ekke Nekkepem. Hurrah! Nobody knowsthatbut myself!" "Aye, butIknow it too!" said Inge softly to herself, and she placed her nosegay in her bosom and went home. Toward evening came the Dwarf to claim his bride. "Many thanks, dear Ekke Nekkepem," said she, "but if you please I would rather stay where I am." The smiling face of the bridegroom grew dark as thunder, but he recollected how he had divulged his secret, and saw that the affair was past remedy.[281]
The Nis of Jutland is called Puk[282]in Friesland. Like him he wears a pointed red cap, with a long grey or green jacket, and slippers on his feet. His usual abode is under the roof, and he goes in and out either through a broken window, which is never mended, or through some other aperture left on purpose for him. A bowl of groute must be left on the floor for him every evening, and he is very angry if there should be no butter in it. When well treated he makes himself very useful by cleaning up the house, and tending the cattle. He sometimes amuses himself by playing tricks on the servants, tickling, for example, their noses when they are asleep, or pulling off the bed-clothes. Stories are told of the Puk, similar to some above related of the Juttish Nis.
Ein Mägdlein kam im Abendglanz,Wie ich's noch nie gefunden.Schreiber.A maiden came in Evening's glow,Such as I ne'er have met.
Ein Mägdlein kam im Abendglanz,Wie ich's noch nie gefunden.Schreiber.
A maiden came in Evening's glow,Such as I ne'er have met.
The Wilde Frauen or Wild-women of Germany bear a very strong resemblance to the Elle-maids of Scandinavia. Like them they are beautiful, have fine flowing hair, live within hills, and only appear singly or in the society of each other. They partake of the piety of character we find among the German Dwarfs.
The celebrated Wunderberg, or Underberg, on the great moor near Salzburg, is the chief haunt of the Wild-women. The Wunderberg is said to be quite hollow, and supplied with stately palaces, churches, monasteries, gardens, and springs of gold and silver. Its inhabitants, beside the Wild-women, are little men, who have charge of the treasures it contains, and who at midnight repair to Salzburg to perform their devotions in the cathedral; giants, who used to come to the church of Grödich and exhort the people to lead a godly and pious life; and the great emperor Charles V., with golden crown and sceptre, attended by knights and lords. His grey beard has twice encompassed the table at which he sits, and when it has the third time grown round it, the end of the world and the appearance of the Anti-christ will take place.[283]
The following is the only account we have of the Wild-women.
The inhabitants of the village of Grödich and the peasantry of the neighbourhood assert that frequently, about the year 1753, the Wild-women used to come out of the Wunderberg to the boys and girls that were keeping the cattle near the hole within Glanegg, and give them bread to eat.
The Wild-women used frequently to come to where the people were reaping. They came down early in the morning, and in the evening, when the people left off work, they went back into the Wunderberg without partaking of the supper.
It happened once near this hill, that a little boy was sitting on a horse which his father had tethered on the headland of the field. Then came the Wild-women out of the hill and wanted to take away the boy by force. But the father, who was well acquainted with the secrets of this hill, and what used to occur there, without any dread hasted up to the women and took the boy from them, with these words: "What makes you presume to come so often out of the hill, and now to take away my child with you? What do you want to do with him?" The Wild-women answered: "He will be better with us, and have better care taken of him than at home. We shall be very fond of the boy, and he will meet with no injury." But the father would not let the boy out of his hands, and the Wild-women went away weeping bitterly.
One time the Wild-women came out of the Wunderberg, near the place called the Kugelmill, which is prettily situated on the side of this hill, and took away a boy who was keeping cattle. This boy, whom every one knew, was seen about a year after by some wood-cutters, in a green dress, and sitting on a block of this hill. Next day they took his parents with them, intending to search the hill for him, but they all went about it to no purpose, for the boy never appeared any more.
It frequently has happened that a Wild-woman out of the Wunderberg has gone toward the village of Anif, which is better than a mile from the hill. She used to make holes and beds for herself in the ground. She had uncommonlylong and beautiful hair, which reached nearly to the soles of her feet. A peasant belonging to the village often saw this woman going and coming, and he fell deeply in love with her, especially on account of her beautiful hair. He could not refrain from going up to her, and he gazed on her with delight; and at last, in his simplicity, he laid himself, without any repugnance, down by her side. The second night the Wild-woman asked him if he had not a wife already? The peasant however denied his wife, and said he had not.
His wife meanwhile was greatly puzzled to think where it was that her husband went every evening, and slept every night. She therefore watched him and found him in the field sleeping near the Wild-woman:—"Oh, God preserve thy beautiful hair!" said she to the Wild-woman; "what are you doing there?"[284]With these words the peasant's wife retired and left them, and her husband was greatly frightened at it. But the Wild-woman upbraided him with his false denial, and said to him, "Had your wife manifested hatred and spite against me, you would now be unfortunate, and would never leave this place; but since your wife was not malicious, love her from henceforth, and dwell with her faithfully, and never venture more to come here, for it is written, 'Let every one live faithfully with his wedded wife,' though the force of this commandment will greatly decrease, and with it all the temporal prosperity of married people. Take this shoefull of money from me: go home, and look no more about you."
As the fair maiden who originally possessed the famed Oldenburg Horn was probably a Wild-woman, we will place the story of it here.
In the time of count Otto of Oldenburg, who succeeded his father Ulrich in the year 967, a wonderful transaction occurred. For as he, being a good sportsman, and one who took great delight in the chase, had set out early one day with his nobles and attendants, and had hunted in the wood of Bernefeuer, and the count himself had put up a roe, and followed him alone from the wood of Bernefeuer to the Osenberg, and with his white horse stood on the top of the hill, and endeavoured to trace the game, he said to himself, for it was an excessively hot day, "Oh God! if one had now but a cool drink!"
No sooner had the count spoken the word than the Osenberg opened, and out of the cleft there came a beautiful maiden, fairly adorned and handsomely dressed, and with her beautiful hair divided on her shoulders, and a garland on her head. And she had a rich silver vessel, that was gilded and shaped like a hunter's horn, well and ingeniously made, granulated, and fairly ornamented. It was adorned with various kinds of arms that are now but little known, and with strange unknown inscriptions and ingenious figures, and it was soldered together and adorned in the same manner as the old antiques, and it was beautifully and ingeniously wrought. This horn the maiden held in her hand, and it was full, and she gave it into the hand of the count, and prayed that the count would drink out of it to refresh himself therewith.
When the count had received and taken this gilded silver horn from the maiden, and had opened it and looked into it, the drink, or whatever it was that was in it, when he shook it, did not please him, and he therefore refused to drink for the maiden. Whereupon the maiden said, "My dear lord, drink of it upon my faith, for it will do you no harm, but will be of advantage;" adding farther, that if the countwould drink out of it, it would go well with him, count Otto, and his, and also with the whole house of Oldenburg after him, and that the whole country would improve and flourish. But if the count would place no faith in her, and would not drink of it, then for the future, in the succeeding family of Oldenburg, there would remain no unity. But when the count gave no heed to what she said, but, as was not without reason, considered with himself a long time whether he should drink or not, he held the silver gilded horn in his hand and swung it behind him, and poured it out, and some of its contents sprinkled the white horse, and where it fell and wetted him the hair all came off.
When the maiden saw this, she desired to have her horn back again, but the count made speed down the hill with the horn, which he held in his hand, and when he looked round he observed that the maiden was gone into the hill again. And when terror seized on the count on account of this, he laid spurs to his horse, and at full speed hasted to join his attendants, and informed them of what had befallen him. He moreover showed them the silver gilded horn, and took it with him to Oldenburg, and the same horn, as it was obtained in so wonderful a manner, was preserved as a costly jewel by him, and by all the succeeding reigning princes of the house of Oldenburg.[285]