Part 8

“And so it happened indeed, for when I reached home, and went down to the Green Lake, it was impossible for me to discover one single trace of the Gold Spring.”

_THE FAIRY OF THE SONNENWENDJOCH._

At the foot of the gigantic mountain peak on which stands the Sonnenwendjoch, a chalk Alp, over 8000 feet high, stand the hamlets of Brixlegg, Mehrn, and Zimmermoos, upon a lovely plain, from which the Achen rushes down into the valley, and works the lead, silver, and tin foundries, which are the most important of the whole Tyrol. On that spot a fairy used to reside.

Close by lies the little town of Rattenberg, above which used to stand a magnificent stronghold, of which there are now but a few picturesque ruins to be seen. One day the young Baron of the little castle of Mehrn went hunting upon the charming green mountain side, and as in the pursuit of his game he had approached the Sonnenwendjoch, he caught sight of the fairy of the mountain. To see her and fall deeply in love with her was the work of a moment, and the fairy also returned his affection, for the handsome young Baron pleased her. The fairy, who was a guardian of Alpine animals, ordered the youth never to pursue one of them again if he wished her to take any notice of him. Then she led him into her dominions, in which there were endless magnificent things to be seen--gardens of never-fading flowers; deep, clear fountains; meadows, upon which animals were peacefully browsing; and grottoes supported by crystal columns, and whose roofs and walls were like mirrors. They then became engaged, and the Baron received from the fairy a ring as gage of her favour

After that he often went out under the pretence of hunting, but never brought home any game; at which every one was astonished, because he was noted as a good shot and clever huntsman, and had already killed many bears and boars with his dagger alone. Every one was surprised, too, to see that he avoided all the surrounding castles, and seemed to have made up his mind to remain unmarried. Meanwhile, it happened that in the castle of Rattenberg a wedding took place, to which the lord also invited his friend the Baron of Mehrn; and, as it was impossible for him to decline this invitation, he attended the wedding to his great grief, for there he met a young lady of Innsbruck who entangled him in her toils, and pleased him so much that he gave her the fairy’s ring which she had noticed glittering on his finger.

Overcome by shame and remorse at his infidelity, he went on the following morning to the Sonnenwendjoch, where he saw a white doe bounding before him. At that sight the old love of hunting awoke in him, and he pursued the animal to a well-known spot, where, by knocking with his ring, a door in the rock sprang open which led to the entrance of the fairy’s empire. There the youth stood rooted to the ground with terror, for he had not the ring; and suddenly the fairy herself appeared before him, dignified and haughty, not in anger, but in deep grief. She held the ring in her delicate hand, and said in a low sad voice: “You are unfaithful. You have sworn always to think but of me; never to give my ring to another; never to pursue one of my animals, and you have thrice broken your oath. Farewell!”--and in saying so she disappeared from before his eyes.

The Baron had scarcely left the spot when a huge rock rolled down the mountain with the noise of thunder and covered a large portion of the valley with its _débris_. After that the young man became sad and dejected and left the country, and people say that he went to the Holy Land, from which he has never returned.

_THE FIREMAN PIGERPÜTZ._

At the foot of the Ischürgant mountain, near Imsh, stands a stone hut, called the Hirnhutte, because it had been erected by a former wood merchant whose name was Hirn, as a resting-place for his woodmen when he was felling timber on the banks of the torrent Pigersbach. This place is regarded with horror on account of a terrible shade which wanders from the Pigersbach upwards through an immense forest of gigantic oaks, and then passes over Strad up to the dense forest of firs which lies beyond.

This apparition, which is generally called the Pigerpütz, appears as a headless black form, or tears through the air in the shape of a flame which is sometimes larger and sometimes smaller, sometimes lighter and sometimes darker, and which often has been seen to rise above the ground expanding as it goes to the height of sixty feet and more.

In the year 1849 it happened that four peasants set out during the night from Imst to Tarenz, and as they walked along the Pigersbach which flowed on their right through mossy plains, they saw a brilliant flame floating across their path. “There goes the Pigerpütz,” said one of the men, and the others who were a little hot from the wine which they had taken at Imst, began to laugh and sneer at him; but they had scarcely done so ere the flame rushed upon them, and as they saw this the three tipsy men ran off as fast as their legs could carry them, but the one who had first seen and spoken of the Pigerpütz stood firmly on the spot. He was the peasant banker of Tarenz, who is still alive and recounts his adventure thus:--

“I stood firm and let him approach, and, by my soul, he really came on and grew to the size of a haystack as he approached. Then I said to him: ‘I shall never help you; for if you had led a better life, and not committed so many crimes, you would not now be obliged to wander about in this form. Now off with you!’ And then, by my soul, he really fled away over the Pigersbach.”

_THE PILLER-SEE._

Where the lovely Piller-See now lies, with its green rippling waters about one and a half miles long by three-quarters wide, close to the village of St. Ulrich, there used to stand one of the most beautiful and most fertile Alps of the whole Tyrol, belonging formerly to several peasants, who pastured large herds of animals upon it. They were rich in cows, and grass, and had their beautiful Alp besides to depend upon; so they were the happiest and wealthiest peasants in all the world. But instead of being grateful to Heaven for all its blessings, they became vain, thinking only of amusement and dancing, and every Sunday and fête-day they passed in all sorts of frivolous pleasures. The Alp soon assumed the appearance of a heathen garden, and all those who paid no regard to the opinion of the world flocked there to enjoy their guilty pleasure.

The dissolute villagers wanting one day to play at their favourite game of nine-pins, and having neither balls nor pins, seized upon the beautiful alpine which they found in a farm close by, ready for the morrow’s market, and turned it to the purposes of their game; but suddenly the shed in which they were amusing themselves began to give way, and all the surrounding ground, together with the adjacent mountains, sank beneath their feet. Upon whatever spot they trod the earth slipped from under them, and out of the earth water sprang, and every one of them was drowned in the new-formed lake. Only a musician who had been forced against his will to climb the Alp and play to them was saved, for, sitting on his chair, he was driven to the borders of the lake by the swelling current.

This lake is now called the “Piller-See,” which in certain places is fathomless. One day some people tried to measure its depth, when they heard a hollow voice proceeding from the bottom of the See, calling out:--

“If you fathom me, I swallow you.”[4]

[4] Ergründest Du mich, So verschling’ ich Dich.

This, like many other of the Tyrolian lakes, is supposed to have the power of dragging into its fathomless depths all those who are unfortunate enough to fall asleep on its fatal shores.

_THE BURNING PINES._

A poor widow of Rattenberg, who was blessed with a large family, had been, through endless misfortunes, reduced to such a pitch of poverty that she only had left of all her possessions a small wood in the valley of Scheibenthal, which is close to Rattenberg. A wicked-hearted wretch took advantage of her troubles to try and prove that the wood was his own property, and by means of false witnesses and many failures of justice matters were driven so far that the unfortunate widow had to give up the wood, and died of grief soon afterwards. The children were taken care of by good neighbours, and when they were strong enough they were obliged to go out to service, and soon no more was heard of the matter.

Everything would have been forgotten had there not been One in whose remembrance all lives; and up to the present day the crime of the forest thief is constantly recalled through the circumstance that burning trunks often roll down through the wood, sending sparks in all directions, sometimes assuming the terrific appearance of a forest fire. But this dreadful phenomenon is ascribed to the fact that the wicked man, with his vile companions who had robbed the poor widow of her wood, have been condemned to burn in the forest which they stole, under the form of fiery pines, and roll in their agony through the forest, vainly seeking to release themselves from their everlasting punishment.

THE JAUFEN-FAIRY

Under the summit of the Jaufen, a mountain in Passeier, about 8000 feet high, used to reside a fairy who fell passionately in love with a young Baron of the castle of Jaufenburg, which lies at the foot of the aforesaid mountain, and was formerly the residence of the lords of Passeier. But whether the heart of the Baron was no longer free, or whether the fairy’s love frightened him, cannot be said; but he never responded to the attention of his fairy admirer, who took his coolness so much to heart that she pined away and transformed herself into a beggar woman, in which form she wandered along all the lanes and passes through which the Baron generally took his way, the image of injury and grief. One day she hid herself in a chalk-burner’s hut at which the Baron often stopped, as the man had been his former servant. When the young nobleman arrived and asked for a draught of water, the transformed fairy brought it to him after having dropped a pearl into the glass. While the Baron drank, the fairy assumed her real form, and now she appeared to him most beautiful, for the pearl had bewitched the water so that it coursed through his whole frame like fire, inspiring him with a never-before-felt sensation. The beautiful cup-server who stood before him seemed the acme of his ideal. He set her before him on his charger and galloped off to the Jaufenburg.

But a wonderful thing came to pass; his beautiful bride suddenly disappeared from his side, and he could not imagine where she had gone. He rode day and night and never reached his castle. The poor exhausted charger at last fell beneath the weight of his infatuated master, and died. Then the Baron sought his home on foot, but without avail; he found himself in a strange country where he knew nobody and nobody knew him. He became so poor that he was obliged to sell his rich attire, and at last was forced to beg his way through the country. Miserable, weak, and ill, he reached one evening the hut of the smith in the Kalmthal, where, half dead with hunger and exposure, he fell down upon a heap of straw.

The fairy now saw good to bring to an end the hard penance which she had imposed upon him for his first slighting of her. She appeared to him again in all her grace and splendour. All his magnificent attire was restored to him; his charger stood waiting for him at the door of the hut, and all the hardship through which he had passed appeared to him but as a dreadful dream. He now conducted his fairy bride back to the Jaufenburg, united himself to her for ever, and lived happy and blessed, though without any heir. After his death the fairy disappeared, and the Jaufenburg descended by marriage to the family Von Fuchs, and, later on, the beautiful castle fell into the hands of a rich peasant and crumbled to ruins under his keeping.

_THE WETTER-SEE._

Close beneath the mountain Gerlos, in the Zillerthal, lies the “Wetter-See” (weather-lake), into which no one dares to throw a stone, and it is not advisable for even a stranger to do so, or he would find himself involved in great trouble from the surrounding mountaineers, among whom still exists the firm belief, which has been corroborated by hundreds of examples, that directly a stone has been thrown into the lake fearful thunderstorms arise, accompanied by devastating hail and wind.

The See lies in a desolate basin on the heights of the mountains, and every one who is shown the lake hears from his guide, or any cowherd, the following legend: A shepherd arrived one day on the borders of the See, where he saw a huge golden chain lying, the other end of which remained in the water. Just as he stooped to grasp it he saw, glittering on the other side of the lake, one of much larger size, so he left the first to go and take the other; but as he approached it and was about to put his hand upon it, both chains disappeared under the water, while the poor fellow stood stupefied with amazement on the shore.

People say that “the herdsman was too avaricious; for, had he been content with the one chain which was within his grasp, he would never have lost them both.” As the chains are said to appear from time to time, people are still on the look-out for them, because they are of such enormous length that he who finds one of them would be rich during all his days.

_THE COURAGEOUS SERVANT GIRL OF THE ZOTTA-FARM._

In the Wattenserthal, which is about twenty miles in length, and where at its end the Hochlizum Alp stands, lies on the right of the mountain the beautiful Wotz Mountain, belonging to the farmer of Zotta-Hof, which stands at its foot. Upon that mountain, during the winter time, a “Kaser-Manndl” (a sort of ghost) is said to reside. This spirit inhabits a hut which is situated on the top of the mountain, from whence he makes a terrific noise, which is heard for miles around; but towards Christmas he becomes more quiet and goes off again in the spring. Before his departure a blackbird sings during many days, from a pine which stands on the mountain, so beautifully that one could listen to her for hours together.

Now it happened that in the house of the Zotta peasant a poor servant girl was employed whose mother was very ill. As Christmas Day approached she had to clean up the whole house, and on the Eve the farmer divided the Christmas-cake between his family and servants; and while he enjoyed his portion in company with his friends and neighbours, one of them asked: “What is the Kaser-Manndl about to-day? I wonder whether he is fêting Christmas as well?” The farmer, who had been drinking considerably, shouted in good humour: “I will give the best cow out of my herd to whomever has the courage to go up the mountain to-night and find out what the Kaser-Manndl is doing, and brings me back in proof his milking-bucket and foot-warmer.”

But all heard this proposition in silence, for none of them dared risk so much danger to gain the cow, because the Kaser-Manndl was noted for his ferocity, and many a one had returned from his neighbourhood with a head almost smashed to pieces. But the poor servant girl collected her courage and thought to herself: “I will undertake it in God’s name. Should I gain the cow, I shall be able to help my poor sick mother, and as I have not the intention of going out of curiosity, Heaven will protect me.” So she agreed with the Zotta farmer, and set off up the Alp, which is a constant ascent of six miles, battling with bitter wind and snow as she went.

Far above her she saw the Kaser, or hut, brilliantly lighted. Everything in it was clean to perfection, and the Kaser-Manndl was sitting in his Sunday clothes at the hearth, his nose-warmer smoked in his mouth, and he was cooking in a pan a coal-black meal. On entering the hut the girl made as fine a curtsey as a peasant girl is able to do, and the Manndl signed to her to approach the fire and join him at his supper; but the girl was terrified at the sight of the compound, and when the Manndl noticed this he said, “Do not be frightened, girl; make only a ‘Krizl Krazl’ (a sign of the Cross) over the pan.” The girl did this, and to her great astonishment the pan became full of the most beautiful cakes, which they both set to work to eat.

After a little while the Kaser-Manndl said, “I know the request you wish to ask. You have come to carry off my milking-bucket and foot-warmer. You shall have them without the asking, for you are a brave girl, and when you arrive at the farm you will claim of the peasant his cow together with the calf as punishment for having allowed you to come up in such fearful weather.”

The Zotta peasant was just setting out for the midnight mass as his servant returned from the Alp with her proofs, and when she claimed the cow he called her a stupid fool for having gone up the Alp and taken his joke as reality, and he would not give her one _pfennig_, much less the cow.

On the following morning there was a grievous Christmas-gift at the Zotta-Hof: the Robblerin, the finest cow, lay dead in the stable, and the farmer nearly tore off all his hair with grief, for this cow had been his favourite and had carried the first prize at every show, for which reason he had given her the name of “Robblerin,” or champion. “Had you given the cow to me,” said the poor injured girl to her master, “she would not have died. Will you now keep your word and give me another?” But the farmer savagely refused this demand.

On the following morning they found that another beautiful cow, named “Maierin,” had strangled herself with her chain. On the next day a third cow was found dead, and only now the peasant’s hard heart began to melt, for he was fearful lest he might lose his whole herd, and therefore he gave the finest remaining cow to the girl, who directly drove her off home; and from that moment poverty came to an end in the house of the courageous servant girl, who prayed day and night for the redemption of the Kaser-Manndl of the Wotz-Alm.

_THE KLAUSENMANN ON THE KUMMER-SEE._

In the Hinder Passeier lies the village of Moos, about which, on account of the frequent accidents that there take place by people falling over the adjacent precipice, the following saying is common in the Tyrol: “At Moos even cats and vultures break their necks.”[5]

[5] Zu Moos zerschellen selbst die Katzen und Geier.

In 1401 a part of the mountain standing about a mile from the village fell down into the valley, buried the farm called Erlhof under its _débris_, and caused the water running through the valley to collect and form a large “see,” or lake, which through its inundations created so much _Kummer_ or grief in the valley that it received from the inhabitants the name of “Kummer-See” (Lake of grief).

The legend goes that after the mountain by the will of God had been cloven, and the Kummer-See formed by the power of the Evil One, a “Klausenmann,” or sluiceman, was set there to look after the lake, and warn the neighbours in time, were it impossible to let the water off. But for this work a pious man was needed, whose prayers alone would keep the swelling waters within bounds; for the devil used to bathe in the lake, and made such a fearful noise that he could be heard even as far down as Moos. The villagers made frequent pilgrimages for the purpose of being preserved from the calamities caused by this dreaded See; but as after a time they omitted this practice, the most fearful inundations ensued, leaving everywhere behind them ruin and desolation.

The Klausenmann, too, became so corrupted that he forgot all his religious duties, never went to church, and always worked on Sundays and fête-days; so the Demon of Evil once more gained power and there was another terrific inundation which transformed the whole Passeier-Thal into a vast ocean, entered into the Etsch-Thal, and destroyed a great part of the village of Meran. In this flood the wicked Klausenmann perished, and after his death his wretched spirit was consigned to wander about on the shores of the See, which has since dried up, and in its place now stands a desolate swamp.

The modern traveller meets on his road round the former site of the See, a rock called z’ Gsteig, upon which pious hands have erected a chapel. There, as evening falls, fearful groans are often to be heard, while the terrible shade of the Klausenmann rushes by the sacred spot.

_THE VILLAGE ON THE BODEN-ALP._

After traversing the valley of the Almajur, which sends its waters into the river Lech, one arrives at the Boden-Alp, which, together with the mountain called Almajur, belongs to the village of Stanz. Upon the Almplace of the Boden used to stand in days gone by a beautiful village which had become, through the neighbouring silver mines belonging to it, immensely rich. The inhabitants in course of time grew so luxurious that they did not know what to do with their wealth, and it came into their heads to fill their houses with all sorts of utensils of gold and silver. They even kept their windows shut during the day, for the light of God’s beautiful sun was not good enough for them, and preferred in their iniquity to burn candles in massive silver candlesticks. The patience of Heaven regarded this crime for very long, hoping, perhaps, that the folly would outwork itself; but as it only increased the more, the Lord proceeded with his just punishment. The whole village with its church and people sank beneath the earth, and the once flourishing valley became a desolate wilderness.