Part 7

There has frequently been seen upon the plain, close by the hut, which is called the Kohlerstadl, a fiery wild boar, and many people are of the opinion that the old monster of the Unholdenhof, of which has been spoken in the preceding legend, wanders about there in that form, while others say that this same fiery boar is a devil’s phantom; and there are numberless people who have seen it.

A rich peasant of Natters, whose name is Klaus Sinnis, went up one day with his hay-cart to a meadow-valley, called Götzens-Lufens, and as he passed by the Kohlerstadl it was already growing dark, and night was coming on very fast. There suddenly the fiery boar rushed before his horses, which began to rear and kick, and he was unable to get them on one step further, so that he was compelled to return home with his empty cart.

A herdsman of Götzens was driving his cows home from Mutters, and close by the dreaded spot he met the boar, tearing madly round in a circle. On catching sight of this hideous phantom, the cows set up their tails and rushed wildly off in every direction, so that most of them fell down the precipices and were lost.

Others have seen on the same spot black dogs, and heard unearthly screams and howls which have pierced to their very soul.

_THE BUTCHER OF IMST._

It is not very long since that there lived at Imst a butcher, who was in the habit of catching other people’s sheep on the mountain, to alter their marks, and, after leaving them to run for some time among his own herd, either killed or sold them alive. This clever dodge succeeded very well for some length of time, but at last the butcher died suddenly, and, after his death, such a terrible ghost was seen several times in the house, that the family were obliged to move out of it, until the ghost should be exorcised by the powers of the Holy Church.

The night-watch of Strad was just calling out the twelfth hour, on a pitch dark night, when all at once two Capuchins approached on the road, both of whom carried a burning candle, and one of them bore under his arm a massive volume. Between them walked the form of the deceased butcher, clad in black, with the high-crowned hat, which he usually wore when alive, pressed tightly down over his eyes, and his arms crossed before him. The Capuchins signed the night-watch to step on one side, which, in his terror, he was only too glad to do. Then he saw them all three pass through the village of Strad, and take the post-road to Nassereit, as far as the inn, called ‘Zum Döllinger,’ into which, however, they did not enter, but turned over the Gurglthal, towards a klamm, or chasm, through which rushes from the lofty Andelsberg the torrent of Klammbach.

To that spot numbers of ghosts from the neighbourhood of Imst have been consigned, and frequently during the stillness of night are heard the dreadful cries of “Help us. Hoi--hoiiih!”

_MATZ-LAUTER, THE SORCERER OF BRIXEN._

Matthias Lauter, generally known under the name of “Matz-Lauter,” was born at Brixen, and used to live on a mountain, near Latzfons. He was everywhere dreaded, for his sorceries surpassed the power of any other man to excel. There are still many people living in the neighbourhood who knew him, and can tell many curious things concerning him. Matz used to wander about all the country through, because he could never find rest anywhere, and constantly visited the huts of the peasants, who willingly gave him all he asked for, to rid themselves of his company; and sometimes, out of thanks, he showed them a few of his tricks.

One day, in the common room of a farm belonging to a well-to-do peasant, he made in each of the four corners a different sort of weather at the same moment. In one corner the sun shone, in the second it was dark, and the wind was whistling gloomily; in the third, soft warm rain was falling; and in the fourth, a terrific storm of thunder, lightning, and hail was going on. At another time, he forced fowls, which were on the opposite side of the Eisach valley, to fly over to him and lay eggs at his feet, of which he made a present to the farm-people who had been kind to him.

It was generally believed that his art came from the devil, which, however, has been contradicted by the fact that he tormented and dared the old gentleman far more than any one had ever done before, and it is recounted as perfectly certain that once he forced him to clear a way through a forest, through which it was impossible for even a goat to pass, and with such rapidity that he could ride behind on a fast-galloping horse. Another time he forced his Satanic Majesty to catch an enormous mountain oak, which he pitched down to him from a height of four thousand feet.

Matz-Lauter was also much dreaded as a weather-maker, and often boasted that hating mankind, he took pleasure in harming them; and he confessed that only the ringing of consecrated bells had any control over his power, and if round about there had not been the bells of the chapel of St. Anton, near Feldthurns, those of the church of Laien, the enormous clock of the chapel of Latzfons, and the shrill sounds of the belfry of the chapel of St. Peter, a little pilgrimage about two miles from Latzfons, and a mile or so from his own hut, he would long since have reversed the huge mountain, which stands over the village of Latzfons, and buried in its ruins all who lived on or beneath it.

One day Matz-Lauter was found by some huntsman dead on the mountain, and directly the news spread, every one wanted to climb up and see his body; but it had disappeared, and even now every peasant of the neighbourhood is certain that the devil carried off the body of the sorcerer, after having first claimed his soul.

_THE MOUNTAIN GHOST OF THE VIVANNA._

About six miles from Graun, above the Endkopf, in the dominions of the Frauenpleiss, which ancient legends report as the residence of several fairies, lies the Grauner-Alp, which is also called the Vivanna, and which belongs to the parish of Graun. Jacob Wolf, a huntsman of Graun, ordinarily called “Kob,” started one evening, towards the close of the autumn, on a hunting excursion, and climbed up the Vivanna, intending there to pass the night, so that he might be ready to follow the game at an early hour on the following morning. He entered the hut which stands upon the Alp, and after having laid down upon a bundle of dry grass for his night’s rest, he heard the door slowly open, and a little old shrunken woman entered, whose attire was very like that of a Sennin, and who seemed to be quite at home there. She lighted a fire, took cream and flour from a little hole in the wall, and set to work to make cakes. As soon as she had finished them, she called out, “Now we are going to eat, and the one down yonder on the grass must be of the party too.”

The huntsman was quite frightened and dared not move, but as the little woman called out a second time with her shrill voice, which sounded almost like a command, he picked up his courage, and approached the spot where the old hag was standing. But, oh, terror! at that moment, in the midst of a most fearful noise, there all at once entered through the door a whole tribe of spitting, growling, and miauling cats, pigs and bucks, besides every description of other wild beasts.

The huntsman sprang quickly back into his corner, seized his rifle, which he had fortunately charged with a crossed bullet, and fired right into the middle of the devil’s army, which was entirely dispersed in one moment. No more was either to be seen of the old hag, and her cakes stood burning before the fire, and smelling of all sorts of fearful abominations. The huntsman fled from the spot as quickly as ever he could, and rushed down into the valley, giving up all idea of his hunting excursion. But in the morning he found out that, in his hasty retreat, he had left his hunting-sack behind; and so he set off in broad daylight, accompanied by another man, to the scene of his fearful adventure, where they found the sack, with all its contents, bitten and torn to pieces. When recounting this story, Kob always used to say, “The hell company would have served me the same trick, had I not run off as quickly as I did.”

_THE OBERLEITNER OF TERENTEN._

At Terenten, in the Pusterthal, lies a farm which is called the Oberleitner Hof, and its proprietor, who died about twenty years ago, was known in all the surrounding mountains under the name of “the Old Oberleitner.”

This old man was a master of the black art, as well as a great huntsman, who delighted in going over the mountains to the wild rocky valley of the Stillupp and Floiten, in pursuit of stone bucks, of which he killed numbers; and he had indeed carried his infatuation so far that there is not one now to be seen in the whole neighbourhood.

One day he was out with a fellow-huntsman, quite on the top of the mountain, and all at once he said to him, “Look there, my wife is just preparing the dinner, and as she is not in a good temper to-day we must try and be home in time, or else we shall catch a scolding.”

“But how can that be possible,” answered the other, “since we have more than a day and a half’s journey before we can reach home?”

“Never mind that,” replied the Oberleitner; and as the housewife served the dinner, the two huntsmen entered the room at the same moment as all the farm people. Of course, this never happened in a natural way; but how it came to pass no one can say. Though everybody of the district believes firmly that it was an example of Oberleitner’s ability.

Upon one of the farm-buildings of the Oberleitner Hof is still to be seen, up to the present day, an old roughly-painted picture, which represents an incident in the life of the former proprietor of the farm. Oberleitner was working in an adjoining field, when he caught sight of several fine stags on the distant Alp, called the Eidechsspitze. He ordered his servant to run home and fetch his rifle, but the man laughingly replied, “They will have time to run away a hundred times before you can reach them.”

“Oh!” said the Oberleitner, “I have fixed them there surely enough.” And, in fact, there they remained upon the same spot until he arrived on the top of the mountain, where he quietly shot them all down, one after the other.

_THE TAILOR OF THE ZIROCKALM._

For centuries past it has been the custom that on the Brenner Alp a tailor should live, for the purpose of mending the clothes of the teamsters who pass along that deserted road, on their way to or from Italy. Not long since, one of these men who occupied the hut left it to go and set up business in the inn, called ‘Schöllerwirthshaus,’ about three miles distant from the Brenner post-house. When not otherwise employed, he occupied his time in rolling heavy stones down into the valley below, knocking to pieces the carts of the teamsters, and killing the horses or men, so that the poor fellows were generally forced to stop at the inn, and when on their arrival, they complained or lamented about their misfortune, the tailor sympathized with them, while taking the occasion to cheat them the more in selling them bad cloth, instead of good, and at much higher prices than were to be had at Brixen or Stertzing, saying that the higher they went up the mountain, the shorter was the wood, as they could see on the trees, and so it was the same with his tailor’s yard.

This tailor died suddenly, and, as penance for his crimes, he was obliged to walk in ghostly form between the Brenner post-house and the Schöllerwirthshaus, and even as far down as Gossensass, where he practised many a cruel trick, and still made stones roll down upon the road. At last the harm he did was so great that the teamsters found themselves forced to apply to some Capuchins of Stertzing to banish the ghost. The Capuchins ascended the mountain, and banished him for the winter to the Zirock Alp, while for the summer they consigned him to the mountain called Hühnerspielspitze, which is plainly visible from Stertzing, and from whose peak he often cries so loudly that he is to be heard in the whole valley down below, “Ah! is then the last day not yet near? Ah! if only the last day would soon arrive.”

The ghost is forced to roll a great number of stones down into the valley, and every one of those stones he is obliged to carry up again on his shoulders. One day an old herdsman placed upon one of these stones a stick, upon which he had cut a cross, and when the ghost found it he threw it on one side and rolled the stone on. When the herdsman found his stick again, several days afterwards, there were five finger-marks burned into it.

_THE THREE SISTERS OF FRASTANZ._

To the east of Frastanz, upon the boundaries of Feldkirch, lies a chain of mountains, leading southwards towards the principality of Lichtenstein, out of which range rise three lofty bare grey jagged mountain peaks, which form the boundary marks of the country, and bear the name of “the Three Sisters,” to which are joined the Frastanz Alps.

Towards the end of the last century, a Venediger-Manndl used to come every year into that country, for the purpose of picking up gold, of which large quantities were to be found, especially in the forest valley of Samina, which is situated between the Three Sisters and the Ziegerberg. The Manndl used to fly through the air from Venice, carrying a large jar, which he put under a mountain spring, which threw up gold grains from a subterranean river, and when the jar was full he flew off with it home again. As a proof, he once showed the jar full of gold to some herdsmen, who were pasturing their cows in the neighbourhood; but they would not be taken in, and so they crossed themselves and let the Venetian go, for they knew that he was a sorcerer, who practised his arts through supernatural power, like all Venediger-Manndl used to do.

At that time, there lived at Frastanz three sisters, who upon a great _fête_ day, instead of going to mass, set out very early in the morning to climb the mountain, for the purpose of gathering strawberries, which grew there in quantities, with the intention of selling them in the afternoon at Feldkirch. Upon the mountain they met the Venediger-Manndl, who indignantly and furiously asked them, “What are you doing here to-day?” The girls were terrified, for their consciences reproached them for having neglected their duty on such a great _fête_ day, for the sake of gaining a little money, and they answered, “Nothing, nothing.” Then the sorcerer replied, with a voice towering with passion, “Well, then, you shall turn into nothing, nothing but bare rocks, without grass or leaf, without tree or fruit, and beneath you shall be hidden my golden wealth, which no mortal being shall ever succeed in finding.” At the same moment the three girls were turned into stone, for the sorcerer, in gaining power over them by their crime, redeemed himself, and delivered them in his stead to the evil one.

There still stand the Three Sisters, touching the clouds as three mountain peaks; but the Venetian has never been seen again, and his wealth-stream is said to have been dried up. The Three Sisters look solemnly down upon the upper part of the valley, called Rheinthal, upon Vaduz, and the country of Lichtenstein.

_THE ROSE GARDEN OF KING LAURIN._

The beautiful and charming surroundings of the village of Algund and the castle of Tirol, which stands above it, are still called the “Rose Garden of King Laurin.”

Laurin was the name of a King of the dwarfs; he was old and wise, as well as mild and kind, and he had a daughter, who was as amiable and beautiful as a fairy, or “Salige.” This lovely Princess wished to have a garden, and begged her father to give her some ground in the light of the sun, for the King lived in a crystal castle, deep in the interior of the mountain, which crowns the old castle of Tirol. The good father granted his daughter’s wish, who now set to work to exterminate all weeds and evil plants from the plain which her father had given her, and planted it with all sorts of rose-trees. In this manner her Rosen-Garten became so beautiful, that up to the present day its aspect renders the weary traveller happy, and causes him to forget for the time all pains and griefs, should he have any. So that every one might enjoy the beauties of her garden, she would not have walls, but surrounded it with gold tissue ribbons.

When and how this peaceful and joyous reign came to an end, the legend does not say; but the neighbourhood still remains a “Gottesgarten” (or paradise), although King Laurin and his beautiful daughter are no more to be seen; only the indisputable fact of their former existence lives fresh and green in the memory of all inhabitants of the surrounding country. Close to the village of Tirol, a dwarf is said to be still residing, whose comic name is Burzinigala, or Burzinigele. Another resides upon the mountain called Mutkopf, behind the same village, who chants in moonlight nights the following song to his native meadows:--“I am so grey, I am so old, that I remember thee three times as meadow-land, and three times as forest.”[3]

[3] “I bin so grau, I bin so alt, Denk di dreimal als Wies’, Und dreimal als Wald!”

Some people say that King Laurin on leaving his castle went to fight against giants and dwarfs in the country from Tirol’s Rosengarten, down to the charming Lago del Gardo, and towards Verona, where he was ultimately baptized, and became a Christian.

_THE PETRIFIED LOVERS OF KRAMSACH._

Near Kramsach, in the Under-Inn valley, on the spot where the Brandenberg Achenthal commences, lie on the Middle Mountain some small lakes, and above the farms called Mösern and Freundsheim, about three miles above Kramsach, stands another beautiful lake, close beneath the Mooswand mountain, and above the lake is still to be seen the ruin of an old stronghold, called the Gruckenbühl. The daughter of the last Baron who resided there was passionately fond of a poor forester, and when the proud and cruel Baron came to hear of the secret rendezvous between his daughter and the huntsman, he ordered him, one pitch-dark night, to be chased out of the castle by the hounds, and, in the hurry of the flight, the poor fellow fell over a rock into the See, and was drowned.

After this act of cruelty and injustice, the poor girl wandered about silent and abstracted, and would neither enter into any amusement, nor take part in any ordinary pursuit of life. One day she went with her maid down to the lake, and, as she looked into its gloomy depths, she saw the dead body of her lover, and, in the frenzy of grief, she threw herself down into the water. The maid ran home recounting this misfortune, and when the wicked Baron, with all his retinue, arrived on the borders of the lake, neither the body of his poor daughter nor that of the forester were to be found. The two lovers had been changed into rocks, both of which rise out of the lake, like little islands; the one overgrown with ferns and water weeds, and the other bare as a polished piece of granite.

_THE GOLD-SEEKER OF THE TENDRES FARM._

Between Reshen and Nauders lies the Tendres Farm, and the old farmer, who is still living there, recounts the following tale:--

“In my younger days a Venediger-Manndl used to arrive here every year towards the autumn, dressed in dreadfully ragged black clothes, just like a beggar, who always passed the night in my farm, and left on the following morning in the direction of the Green Lake, towards the Swiss frontier, and returned here again in the evening.

“As I could never comprehend what the little beggar was doing here every year, and as in the same day he could neither reach huts nor farms, where he could get something by begging, I followed him one day, and found him on the borders of the Green Lake, close to a fountain, busily occupied in taking sand out of a wooden trough, into which the spring was running, and putting it into his sack.

“I thought to myself, ‘Wait, my little fellow, I will lighten that work for you, and empty the trough before you return again; if the sand is of some value, I also can make some use of it, and if it were of no value, you certainly would never come here from so far to fetch it.’ In the following year, towards the autumn, I went to the spring, removed the stone slab from the trough, and found it full of gold sand, which was very heavy. I set off with it directly to Venice, to offer it for sale to a rich merchant, who was astonished at the sight of the sand; and said, ‘Oh! you rich man, I have not money enough to buy all that gold; but go down into that street, and you will find a large house shut up; knock at the door, and the richest man of Venice will let you in, and buy the treasure of you.’

“As I approached the house, a distant voice shouted to me out of one of the windows, ‘Tendres Farmer, bring here your gold.’ I could not make out who could know me, far as I was from my own country, and, as I entered the palace, I was dazzled with the magnificence and riches which everywhere met my eyes. In a splendid chamber, on an armchair of pure gold, was sitting the little beggar, who had so often passed the night in my farm. He arose as I entered, and, shaking his finger menacingly at me, said, ‘You have not acted honestly in clearing out my trough; but, since you have so often sheltered and fed me, I will give you a day’s pay for the gold, which is my own.’ Then he gave me a gold coin for each day I had been on my journey, after which he held a glass before my eyes, in which I saw Tendres, my wife and children working in the field; in one word, everything as clearly as though I was myself standing in the farm. Then he turned the glass, and I saw the well on the Green Lake with the gold trough, and, after having passed his hand over the glass, he said, ‘Now go home, and you will never again find fountain or trough.’