[1] _Questen_--wreaths or garlands of flowers.
The Ritter Knaught had a lovely little daughter, whose chief pleasure
was to gather wild-flowers; for this purpose she went often with her
nurse into the forest. But one day her nurse lost sight of her, and
not being able to find her, hastened in great terror to the castle to
give the alarm.
The Ritter summons all his retainers with the horn, and they storm
through the forest whole nights and days, but of the lost child no
trace.
At last one day, as the father gazes from the battlements of the
castle, he sees people approaching bearing the Maien,[2] hears their
shouts of joy, and in their midst beholds his lost Rosamund, decked
as Queen of the May!
[2] _Maien_--green branches of the birch used to deck the May-pole,
and in Thuringia and other parts of Germany the churches at Pentecost.
A coaler had met the child wandering through the wood, took her at
first for an angel, and in his hut the retainers had found her.
The happy father bestowed gifts lavishly, and instituted an annual
_Volksfest_, and called his castle Questenberg.
To this day a popular festival is held here, but whether connected
with this tradition is uncertain.
The youths of Agnesdorf have the right, by an ancient statute, of
digging up a young oak on the Questenberg;[3] the tree must be
_carried_, and after it is planted is decorated with wreaths of
flowers.
[3] The custom of digging up the young oak is now limited to once
every fifteen years.
They then go in procession to the parsonage, conduct the pastor to
the church, when Divine service is held; after which all return in
procession to the newly-planted oak, and after all have partaken of
refreshments they dance around it, and the youths shoot at the target.
Barbarossa and the Kyffhäuser.
On this mountain that overlooks the Golden Plain, amid the beech and
oak woods that clothe it, stand the ruins of a square tower built of
red sandstone, broken walls, and arches of the ancient gateway,
gables, and the remains of the chapel of the fortress, where the
first Electors and Emperors of Germany held their court.
Tradition and romance linger with an irresistible fascination around
these lonely ruins.
Tradition tells us that Barbarossa never died, but remains enchanted
in the heart of the Kyffhäuser.
He sits in an ivory chair by a marble table, his head resting upon
his arm, and his long red beard has overgrown the whole table like
moss. He wears the imperial mantle, and the knightly forms of his
old courtiers, like spectres, come forth from their rocky chambers
and place upon his aged uncovered head the oldest crown of Germany
glittering with diamonds. His innocent daughter is his only
attendant, or, according to other legends, a dwarf.
The Kaiser's eyes are closed, but at times he seems to awake from his
enchanted slumber, and new life seems to animate the stiffened limbs.
But he cannot awake, nor rise from his seat, nor leave the enchanted
chamber until Germany's enemies are fallen and she is free. He
seemed about to throw off the enchanted fetters in the days of
Maximilian, again in Luther's time.
At the time of the Rhine Treaty, and when the first Napoleon won the
brilliant victories of Ulm, Austerlitz, and Jena, the eyes of the old
Redbeard sparkled with anger and grief, and at his cry of rage,
lightnings flashed through the dark chambers of the Kyffhäuser,
thunders rolled through its rocky caverns, and Barbarossa slumbered
again till the great victory of the Allies in the "Battle of the
Nations"[1] awaked him, and at the death of Napoleon on St. Helena he
broke the enchantment, and Napoleon sits in his place.
[1] _Völkerschlacht_--battle of Leipzig.
There are many versions of this legend.
One holy day, a miner rambling to the Kyffhäuser, to rest under the
trees and indulge in devotional reflections, saw, as he reached the
ruined tower, a monk with a long grey beard, who addressed him,
saying, "Come! I have long expected thee; thou shalt see the
enchanted Kaiser. Graumannel has brought me the _Springwurzel_,[2]
and I must have a mortal to accompany me; no evil shall befall thee."
[2] See Tidian's Cave.
The monk leads him to a green spot surrounded with walls, forms with
the staff which he carries a circle around him and his companion,
takes from his pocket a gold-coloured velvet book, and begins to
murmur and read, no word of which the miner understands.
Suddenly there is a terrible clap of thunder. The mountain cracks,
the circle on which they stand becomes loose, and sinks slowly into
the mountain; the miner, in terror, clings to the cowl of the monk.
At last they reach firm ground.
Now they go through a long dark passage to great brass gates. The
monk touches them with the _Springwurzel_, and immediately they open.
They enter an aisle, lighted by a brilliant lamp, and again stand
before a door.
The monk cries, "Hephata!" and the door opens.
They enter a large, brilliantly lighted, magnificent chapel; the
walls are of marble; the altar is of beaten gold, and its eternal
lamp bathes all in a wondrous light.
The miner cannot gaze enough at the marvellous sight, crosses and
recrosses himself; the monk kneels at the golden altar and says an
Ave Maria. Then he rises, commands his companion to remain standing
in the middle of the chapel, and approaches the door opposite the one
by which they had entered.
At his mighty word this door opens also.
The imperial chamber, or throne-room, is brilliantly lighted; on the
glittering golden throne, in imperial robes, sits Barbarossa, sad and
silent.
The monk approaches the enchanted sovereign and bows reverently.
The Kaiser returns the greeting graciously, and the monk lifts with
great solemnity some object from the ground, again bows low before
the monarch, and retires slowly to the door, seizes the hand of the
astonished miner, who has gazed as in a dream at the splendour of the
enchanted chamber, leads him to the green circle, which begins at
once to rise, and soon reaches the summit of the mountain.
The miner draws a long breath, receives two small metal rods from the
monk, who exclaims, "_Gelobt sei Jesus Christ!_" and before the
bewildered man can respond, "_In Ewigkeit!_" the mysterious monk has
vanished.
The Burgfräulein[1] of Osterode.
[1] Burgfräulein--castle fairy.
One Sunday morning early, a poor linen weaver was walking to Osterode.
Aurora showed her gaily laughing and blushing face above the green
mountains, a balsamic freshness floated over the valleys and streams,
the peaks of the woody heights swam in the blue ether, and the
dew-bathed mountain flowers sparkled in the sun's golden splendour.
The songs of the birds rang out of the thickets, and soft chimes rose
from the villages summoning to worship and praise---a mild, blissful
peace hovered over the entire scene.
It was long before the wanderer noticed these surrounding beauties of
the morning, for a heavy sorrow lay at his heart. A beloved wife lay
at home ill, six hungry children waited with her anxiously for his
return, and he must return with empty hands.
His rich cousin, from whom he had hoped for assistance, had repulsed
him with cruel words, and now his future lay dark and hopeless before
him.
But as the sun rose higher, as all Nature bloomed and sent forth her
frankincense of praise, and the streams murmured of peace, he grew
more composed.
"How glorious! how wonderful!" he thought, as he stood still and
gazed around him; "and what a mystery it is that only man is so often
shut out from the universal enjoyment of creation. Why should he be
crushed to the earth, and provide in sorrow and pain for his bodily
sustenance, while the birds sing and the flowers bloom free from
care? Doth He not clothe the lilies, and give the rose and violet
their perfume and exquisite hues? Can the Eternal Father care less
for an immortal soul? No, no, never!"
He began again to move forward, singing that noblest hymn in the
German language, which has been so perfectly translated by John
Wesley, beginning--
"_Befiehl Du Deine Wege._"[2]
[2] "Commit thou all thy ways."