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.’
“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._