was obdurate; until one night, in a dream, the ghastly head of St.
John the Baptist appeared to him; after which he gave himself up to
the authorities, and his head, with those of all his companions, was
chopped off. The guilty mother buried all the heads together, on the
top of the mountain, sold all she had, and devoted it to the erection
of the chapel, which is still standing there.
Other people recount this legend in a different manner; they say that
the brigand had vowed to make a pilgrimage upon the Hohe Salve, if
Heaven would only assist him to rid himself of his evil companions,
and help him to lead again a good life. But, after having obtained the
assistance of Heaven, the brigand forgot his vow, and for that reason
he was compelled after his death to crawl up to the top of the mountain
in the form of a toad, and to enter into the chapel. After a long
time, the poor toad succeeded in climbing the mountain, but at the
entrance of the chapel there were always people who pushed and kicked
him away. At length, however, he succeeded in entering the chapel,
and crawled three times round the altar, after which he was instantly
changed into the form of a handsome man, who addressed the people who
were praying there, telling them of his brigand life and hard penance,
and then he suddenly disappeared from their eyes.
_THE UNHOLDENHOF._
In the days of Maximilian the First, Emperor of Germany, there was a
forester attached to the Court, who was a real “Unhold” (or monster),
of almost supernatural bodily strength, and so much so that he was
generally regarded as a giant. After the Emperor’s death, the forester
left the Court with his only son, who was in every degree the image of
his father, and went into the parish of Kreith, in which, since that
time, fourteen peasants have built their farms, which, for the most
part, are all situated on the Middle Mountain, above the rivers Sill
and Rutz, between meadows, uplands, and forests. At the bottom of the
valley the whirr of a “Säge,” _i.e._ a saw-mill, is constantly to be
heard, which stands on the bridge over the Klausbach, over which the
roads lead on into the Stubeithal.
There a beautiful spring, well protected by a statue of the holy
Nepomuk, offers refreshment and rest to the tired traveller, and about
half a mile further on, the road divides into two, and the left-hand
branch leads off into a charming mountain-path, on each side of which
lies a magnificent forest of Alpine firs and pines, and after a quarter
of an hour’s ascent, one arrives at a rich and thriving farm, which
comprises in its possessions an ancient chapel; but with all this it
bears a very bad name, and is called the “Unholdenhof” (or monster
farm).
It was on this self-same spot that the forester and his son took up
their abode, and they became the dread and abomination of the whole
surrounding country, for they practised, partly openly and partly in
secret, the most manifold iniquities, so that their nature and bearing
grew into something demoniacal. As quarrellers very strong, and as
enemies dreadfully revengeful, they showed their diabolical nature by
the most inhuman deeds, which brought down injury, not only on those
against whom their wrath was directed, but also upon their families for
centuries. In the heights of the mountains they turned the beds of the
torrents, and devastated by this means the most flourishing tracts of
land; on other places, the Unholde set on fire whole mountain-forests,
to allow free room for the avalanches to rush down and overwhelm the
farms. Through certain means they cut holes and fissures in the rocks,
in which, during the summer, quantities of water collected, which froze
in the winter, and then in the spring the thawing ice split the rocks,
which then rolled down into the valleys, destroying everything before
them. Some of these terrific rock-falls prepared by them ensued only
some forty or fifty years afterwards.
Through these iniquitous deeds, they gained the dreaded name of
Unholde, which has descended to their abode to the present day; but
at last Heaven’s vengeance reached them. An earthquake threw the
forester’s house into ruins, wild mountain torrents tore over it, and
thunderbolts set all around it in a blaze; and by fire and water, with
which they had sinned, father and son perished, and were condemned to
everlasting torments. Up to the present day, they are to be seen at
nightfall on the mountain, in the form of two fiery boars.
A better generation has built a new farm upon the same spot on which
the old Unholdenhof used to stand; but, against their wish and will,
the new house has kept up the old name, which sometimes changes into
that of Starkenhof, because the wicked foresters were also called “die
Starken” (the strong ones).
The old peasant Hohlenbauer, who still is living in the village
of Mutters, can recount to the traveller a great deal about the
Unholdenhof; and, among other things, he would tell him how one day the
forester, in his stupidity, sold valuable parchments to a child’s-drum
maker of Innsbruck, who, as stupid as he of whom he had bought them,
erased the writing with a stone, and covered little drums with the
priceless documents.
_THE FIERY BOAR OF KOHLERSTADL._
On the main road from the village of Mutters to the hamlet of Götzens
lies a brown wooden hut in the middle of a lovely flowery plain, which
is called the “Broat-Wiese” (broad meadow). The road leads through
dells and valleys, and in passing through this grand and desolate
spot, the traveller is unable to overcome a certain sense of awe,
which overhangs this dreaded spot, particularly should he happen to
pass that way after the shades of evening have fallen. The hut is an
old hay-shed, which has the resemblance of a large dark coffin; close
to this hut stands a little chapel, erected to the memory of a poor
traveller, who was frozen to death on that spot, in the year 1815.
This place is decried and avoided, on account of the fearful
apparition, which is said to wander round the spot; and many a one
who has tried to pass that way during the night has been glad to
return safely back again to the village. Close by lies a dense forest
of fir-trees, the rendezvous of tribes of ravens, which render the
surroundings still more dismal with their ominous croakings. If,
perchance, the traveller hears the cuckoo, he crosses himself, for it
bears in the Tyrol the reputation of being the devil’s own bird, and
the evil one himself, the worst of the phantoms, rejoices in adopting
his voice.
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._