cherry-tree, which stands close to the Mission Cross of Algund, near
the village of Meran. One of them, the tailor Hanser, was a most wicked
man, an idle vagabond and debauchee; and just on that dreadful night
he had made a bet with some of his worthless companions to fetch home
cherries from the tree near the cross; but as he was a rank coward,
he dare not go alone, and so he persuaded a good villager, the old
Loaserer Sepp, to accompany him.
Sepp first ascended the tree, but could nowhere find any cherries, so
he climbed higher and higher, almost to the very top, and he was very
much astonished at not being able to discover the least sign of fruit,
for he knew the tree to be loaded; as he climbed, he noticed a peculiar
noise among the leaves, which disquieted him not a little. Hanser, in
the meanwhile, had remained on a lower branch, where he found cherries
by the hatful. At last Sepp shouted to him, “Hanser, can you find any?”
to which Hanser replied, “Oh! yes, wherever I put my hand they hang in
clusters.” So Sepp descended to help his friend in gathering, but was
unable to find one single cherry, while Hanser was filling his basket
as fast as he could from the abundance which surrounded him.
Sepp began to feel very uncomfortable, and as he stood on the bough
close to Hanser, he all at once saw the Alber fly by, lighting all
around with the brilliancy of an electric fire. At this sight the
tailor trembled so much that Sepp was obliged to hold him, to prevent
him from falling, and said, “Has it already gone so far with you,
Hanser, that the devil not only gives you his blessing, but lights you
also to find all the cherries? Then may God preserve you.” He then
shouted to the fiery Alber, “Hi there! wait a little till I can find
some cherries too.” But the devil flew off with the speed of lightning.
Even now people admire the courage of the Loaserer Sepp, who dare do
such a thing, and accompany the worthless tailor on such an errand; but
as he was a good man, the Evil One had no power over him, and so he
escaped the punishment, which otherwise would have befallen him.
_THE OLD TOWN OF FLIES._
Where the village of Flies now stands, in the Upper-Inn valley, on a
sunny slope of the right bank of the river, not far from the Pontlaz
bridge, there used to be, in times gone by, a rich and magnificent
city, with splendid houses, strong walls, and gigantic towers,
surrounded by deep moats and ditches. But the inhabitants became proud
and haughty, and practised all sorts of iniquities, devoid of any
fear of Divine punishment. They were constantly quarrelling with the
villagers of the surrounding hamlets, because they seized more and more
of their ground, and robbed them wherever they could of their little
cottages and farms.
One day they commenced felling a large forest, which belonged to some
neighbouring farmers, who took their loss so much to heart that they
nearly died of grief, for they had no chance of redress, as even the
judges themselves were in terror of the cruel citizens. But there was
still One Just Judge, who bends His head before no earthly power,
and He brought a fearful punishment upon the guilty city. From a
branch of the Venete Alps, a mountain fell upon the town, which it
crushed, together with all its inhabitants, whilst the surrounding
farms remained unhurt. These peasants then became proprietors of the
new-formed ground above the city, upon which they have planted young
forests and laid down grass, and the now standing village of Flies has
been built upon the tomb of the engulfed city.
_THE SENDERSER-PUTZ._
In the Senderser valley, which winds up the mountain from Innsbruck,
behind the villages of Axams, Götzens, and Grinzens, upon the high
Alps, stands the Kemateneler Alm, also called Heach, upon which the
peasants of Kematen pasture about a hundred cows.
On this Heach, so goes the legend, on the eves of great _fête_ days a
gigantic Alm Ghost is to be seen, who unchains the cows, and lets them
run upon the Alm, while with enormous speed and strength he cleans the
stables, and carries off the litter in a wheel-barrow. He does this
work with so much rapidity that the mountain trembles; and when the
morning Angelus rings in the village, the work is all finished, and
the cows are again chained up in their stalls. Of course, the frequent
recurrence of this fact accustomed the people to it, and they leave
the Putz alone, as he never injures them, but rather, on the contrary,
renders them a great service.
But when the good old cow-herd died, a new one took his place, a man
devoid in every way of either religion or good feeling, who would not
believe in the apparition, and only laughed at all those who affirmed
its existence. Soon afterwards, when he heard with his own ears the
noise made by the busy Alm-Putz, he wished to sift the matter to the
bottom, and discover whether the Putz used a supernatural wheelbarrow
or the one appertaining to his own worthy self; so, for this purpose,
he tied a bell to the vehicle in question. The eve of the next _fête_
day the herdsman and some companions heard the well-known sound of
the bell which he had attached to the barrow. “Do you hear?” said the
herdsman; “the Putz really uses my wheelbarrow, so now he must only
work for us.” And, in saying so, he joked and sneered, in spite of the
repeated exhortations of the other men, who ran off in terror at his
oaths.
About a fortnight afterwards the cow-herd was standing at midday
before his hut, while his two milkers were getting their dinner, when
all at once the gigantic ghost passed by, and the wicked man shouted
after him in derision, “Be not so proud, sorcerer, but come and eat
with us, since you have worked so hard a whole night for us.” The Putz
replied not one word, but striding towards the herdsman, he regarded
him so ferociously, that the frightened man fled in terror into the
hut, where the Putz followed him. The milkers heard the screams of
their companion, but dare not go to his rescue until the Putz had left
the hut, and when they found courage to enter it, they discovered the
wicked man lying on the floor, covered with fearful wounds and bruises.
They carried him down to the village, where he died two days afterwards.
Since that time no one has ever dreamed of interfering with the
terrible Alm Ghost; the villagers leave him in peace to follow his
favourite mountain occupation.
_THE DACE FISH OF THE GERLOS-SEE._
On the banks of the Krummbach, near the village of Gerlos, lie three
mountain lakes, one of which swarms with millions of dace, of which,
however, nobody in the whole valley dares to eat, because, it is said,
they were originally put there by a Venediger-Manndl, and have the
property of throwing all those who partake of them into a decline.
The legend says that a long time ago, a wicked peasant of that valley
took it into his head to exterminate all his neighbours secretly and
by degrees, so that he might eventually become the sole proprietor of
the valley, and therefore he paid a heavy sum to a Venediger-Manndl to
give him some poison fish to put into the lake. But his wicked plan ill
repaid him, for he is now compelled to lie for ever at the bottom of
the See, where the dace constantly feed upon his body, there being no
other thing for them to eat in the whole lake; and, as fast as they
eat, the body of the wicked plotter grows up again.
The belief in this dreadful legend is so firmly fixed in the minds of
the inhabitants, that, even were they starving, they would rather die
than touch one of the poison fish in the lake, and their indignation
would be extreme did even any stranger try to take a fish out of the
prohibited water.
_THE VEDRETTA MARMOLATA._
Near the village of Buchenstein rises an enormous Ferner, or glacier,
on the borders of which the neighbouring parishes, especially the
farmers of Sottil, Sottinghäzza, and Roucat pasture large herds of
cows. Only a small valley separates this spot from the village of
Ornella, which, on account of its position, from November to February
is devoid of every beam of sun. The aforesaid Ferner, which is above
11,000 feet high, is called the Vedretta Marmolata, and where now its
icy fields extend there used once to be the most beautiful Alpine
meadows and pasture grounds.
A peasant of Sottil on one Assumption Day had brought down from these
meadows a cart-load of hay, and was about to ascend the mountain again
for another, when his neighbours set upon him, and upbraided him for
working on such a great _fête_ day. But he laughed and jeered at them,
saying, “What will Heaven care if even I make hay on a feast day?” And,
saying this, he set off up the mountain.
Just as he was on the point of loading his cart, he noticed that the
dolomite rocks above began to assume most extraordinary forms, and even
to move about from place to place; dark mists began to rise, which at
every moment became more and more dense, and then a heavy snow fell,
which buried him and his cattle, and froze them into blocks.
On the following morning there was nothing to be seen but a glacier,
and the peasants say, “There above are the cart and cattle, master and
meadow, which have been changed into that Ferner.”
_THE TEUFELSPLATTE NEAR GALTHÜR._
At the head of the valley of Patznau stands the Galthür, a lofty
mountain, which rises also from the Hinder-Patznau, over 5000 feet
above the level of the sea, at the junction of the valleys Montafon
and Underengadein. Southwards from this mountain runs the Iammthal, or
Iamm valley, about six miles long, and bordered by seven Alps; towards
the Iamm-Ferner, stands a colossal ice peak, which stretches its frozen
arms down towards the valleys of Patznau, Montafon, and Engadein.
In the Iammthal lie beautiful rich meadows, together with the
Teufelsplatte, a rock which has been very much spoken of. An iron ring
of 500 pounds is fastened into this rock, and it is said that the devil
himself screwed it in its present place.
The legend goes that two peasants of Galthür had quarrelled several
long years about a neighbouring meadow, and at last they agreed that
the parish itself should decide to which of them the meadow really
belonged, for the vast parish meadows surrounded the spot in question.
So it was decided that the two peasants who disputed the ownership of
the meadow should throw a heavy iron ring, and he who threw the ring
furthest should have the meadow, besides all the ground over which he
could pitch the ring to gain this object, and the parish judge added,
“If either of you fail in throwing the ring over the meadow, its
boundaries shall remain wherever the ring shall fall, and all that is
lost shall be added to the parish grounds; but also, wherever you can
pitch the ring into the parish grounds, so far it shall be yours.”
Three days afterwards the trial took place. One of the two competitors
was a man who knew more than other people; he was able to summon the
devil himself; and as with his assistance he hoped to gain all the
meadows in the valley, he made a compact with the Evil One. On the day
of the trial all the villagers collected on the mountain, where they
found an iron ring quite ready, but of 500 pounds in weight. “Ha!”
thought the parish council, “all the better, for neither of them can
throw this ring one foot from the spot, and the whole meadow will be
ours.”
Now one of the combatants tried to throw the ring, but he could not
even lift it from the ground. Then came the other, who, aided by the
devil’s own power, lifted the massive iron as easily as though it had
been a finger-ring, and lightly tossed it over the valley, as far as
the opposite rock, into which it became so deeply imbedded that only a
very little is to be seen of the iron.
The parish councillors scratched their ears in astonishment, while
the victorious peasant who had thus gained all the extensive and rich
parish meadows, laughed and danced with joy. But on the other side,
close against the rock, a terrible voice was heard laughing too; and
that laughter was anything but of this world, for it was the dread
demon himself who laughed.
Shortly afterwards the rich peasant became more and more dejected;
every one avoided him, and he avoided every one, and each succeeding
year found him in a worse and worse state of mind. Once a terrible
storm broke out during the night; black clouds collected above the
magnificent farm, which the peasant had built on his evilly-gained
grounds, and at last a thunderbolt struck the farm and set it ablaze.
When the neighbours ran to assist, they saw a gigantic demon fly out of
the smoking flaming ruins, holding the rich peasant by the neck, and
dragging him, body and soul, to perdition.
On the following morning all the meadows lay covered with stones and
rocks, which during the storm had rolled down from the surrounding
mountains, and, as a memorial, the ring still remains in the rock,
which since that time has borne the name of the Teufelsplatte.
_FRAU HÜTT._
In the times of the giants, whom all Tyrolians believe to have resided
in the Tyrol during the life of Noah, there lived high on the mountain,
on whose foot the capital of the Tyrol has since been built, a giant
Queen, whose name was Frau Hütt. Her empire was composed of magnificent
forests and Alpine meadows, as beautiful, and even still more
beautiful than the far-famed Rose Garden of King Laurin, and her palace
was so rich and magnificent that from every part of the surrounding
valleys it looked like a tower of diamonds.
Frau Hütt had a son, whom she loved beyond all measure, and one day
it happened that the giant boy went to pull up a pine-tree, for the
purpose of making himself a walking-stick; but as the pine was standing
on the borders of a deep mossy swamp, the ground gave way under his
feet, and he fell, together with the tree, into the quagmire. His
enormous strength fortunately helped him out of this unlooked-for bath,
but he arrived home as black as a nigger, and his clothes infected the
whole palace of his mother, who comforted her dear son, and ordered the
servants to undress him, and clean his mud-covered body with crumbs of
bread and cake. But the servants had scarcely commenced to execute this
sinful command when a heavy thunderstorm came on and enveloped all in a
dreadful darkness, while violent earthquakes shook the whole mountain.
The palace of Frau Hütt was shattered into one vast ruin, and then
enormous mountains of rock and thundering avalanches began to fall,
and in the space of a few hours all the paradisiacal Alp-land, which
formed the empire of Frau Hütt was destroyed, the forests were swept
away, the beautiful fields and uplands were covered with rocks and
stones, and round about nothing was to be seen but a large desert, upon
which not even one little piece of grass has ever grown since.
Frau Hütt was changed into a rock, and there she stands up to the
present day, holding her petrified son in her arms, and thus she must
remain until the end of the world.
_THE TREASURE OF MAULTASCH._
Above the route which leads from Meran to Botzen, not far from Terlan,
are to be seen the ruins of the old castle of Maultasch, which was
once the favourite residence of a Princess of the same name, and from
her appears to have inherited this name, while another legend says the
Princess derived her name from the castle.
There have been two different parts of this building, the principal
one of which used to stand below in the valley to guard the route, and
on that spot is still to be seen a hole in the rock, which leads into
an underground passage, through which Margaretha Maultasch, the last
proprietress of the castle, used to ascend to the upper part of it on
the heights above, called Neuhaus.
In this passage is said to lie a hidden treasure, guarded by a fearful
keeper, who is said to be the devil himself. Many people have tried
to get at this treasure, but no one has ever succeeded; and the
inhabitants of the surrounding country recount that, some years ago,
two young peasants of Meran had resolved upon going to take the envied
treasure. On their way there, they said to one another, “To-day the
devil will never escape us.” So they entered the passage, and began to
repeat the incantations they had learnt by heart for the purpose, while
throwing around them consecrated powders; but all at once a huge black
dog rushed upon them, and they fled away, terrified to death, believing
that the devil himself was at their heels; and, since that time, no
one has ever again tried to discover the treasure of Maultasch.
_THE NINE-PIN GAME OF MARGARETHA MAULTASCH._
In the ruins of the castle of Maultasch are also said to lie a set
of golden nine-pins which appear above the ground and blossom every
hundred years. This set of nine-pins belonged to Margaretha Maultasch,
whose gamekeeper “Georg” stole and buried it when his mistress ceded
the Tyrol to Austria, at Botzen, in 1363. Two days after he had
buried it he was struck by an apoplectic fit and died, and nobody
knew anything of the treasure. Since that time he is compelled in
expiation of his crime to wander about in the castle in the form of a
hideous ghost and guard the hidden treasure, and at midnight he sets
up the nine-pins while sighing, and throws the golden ball against the
large castle gate, which then flies open with a fearful noise. Then
appear all the old counts of the Tyrol and Görz, some of them with
crowns on their heads, followed by Margaretha Maultasch bearing an
enormously massive necklace of pure gold, and the richest diamonds.
They then begin to play, and the unhappy spirit of Georg is obliged to
set up the nine-pins, but the ball always bounds against his feet so
painfully that his cries very often are heard over Botzen and as far as
Sigmundskron.
Only he who succeeds in digging up the treasure will be the means of
redeeming Georg; but as it is most difficult to find the proper way and
right moment, it has almost become an impossibility.
It is not long since that, in the favourable hour, an egg-woman went
up the way which leads to the castle. The poor soul of Georg took the
egg basket off her head, and put it down close to the tower on the very
spot where the nine-pins lay buried. All at once there was nothing in
the basket but ten black coals instead of eggs. “Throw your rosary
quickly upon them,” said the ghost; but unfortunately the woman had no
rosary with her, and so the happy hour passed by again without being
taken advantage of. The ten coals which were to be changed into the
nine-pins and ball, became again ordinary eggs, and only in another
hundred years will this fortunate hour return again.
The ghost climbed up the highest tower rock, crying and sighing his
ordinary lamentations:--
“He who will redeem me
From the power of the Evil One,
Must in the castle’s grounds
Find nine-pins and ball
Which I stole from the Princess,
Which I hid from the Princess.”[9]
[9] “Wer mich will erlösen
Von dem Bann des Bösen,
Muss in Schlosses Gründen
Neun Kegel und Kugel finden,
Die hab’ ich der Fürstin gestohlen,
Die hab’ ich der Fürstin verhohlen.”
_THE DEVIL’S HOLE ON THE KUNTERSWEG._
The ill-famed Kuntersweg is a narrow dangerous cart-way winding through
a deep valley, overtopped on both sides by huge and lofty mountains,
and ending in the post route from Innsbruck to Botzen.
Soon after leaving this route and entering into the aforesaid track,
the traveller arrives at a spot where the valley is more narrow than
elsewhere, and there he beholds high above him a hole pierced through
a bare rock which is known under the name of “Teufelsloch,” or devil’s
hole. Beneath this hole are hanging several crucifixes and statues of
saints in remembrance of the many accidents which have taken place on
that spot--perhaps, also, as a consolation to the friends of the lost
ones and an exhortation to prayer.
One day a carter drove by that spot, and as the weather happened to be
very bad and the road swampy and soft from the long rain, the wheels
of his cart stuck fast in the ground. It was in vain that he whipped
his horses and tried all means in his power to get out of the mud. In
this desperate position he summoned the devil to his assistance, using
the most fearful oaths, and, lo! all at once there appeared before him
a gentleman clad in rich green clothes, with high boots, and offered
his services. The carter, who at first was almost terrified at this
unexpected apparition, said at last, “Well, I accept your offer.”
“But not for nothing,” answered the stranger. “I shall help you only
under the condition that you will give me a piece of your body.” To
which, after a short reflection, the carter agreed.
The green stranger had scarcely muttered a few incomprehensible words
between his teeth when the cart moved by some invisible power from
the spot, and when directly afterwards the carter was asked for the
promised reward, he cut off a piece of his long finger nails and handed
it over to his deliverer. Thus cheated, the devil full of wrath changed
his form and, as a monstrous fiery lizard hissing with savage anger,
and enveloped in sheets of lightning, and with roars of thunder, rushed
through the bare rock above, so that all the mountains round about
shook. And this hole has ever since been called the Teufelsloch.
It is no doubt for the purpose of expelling from this spot all
diabolical effects, that in course of time those pious images have been
set up at the foot of the rock; and most probably the road received
from the hellish “Kunter,” or apparition, which the carter met there,
the name of “Kuntersweg.”
_THE SUNKEN CASTLE IN THE BIBURG-SEE._
About two miles above the village of Oetz in the Oetzthal, in the
middle mountains which cross over the valley like a wall, stands the
peak called “Biburgspitz,” at the foot of which lies the little lake
of “Biburg-See.” On the spot where now the See lies, used to stand
the magnificent castle of Biburg, which covered an immense expanse
of ground, and it was in former times the scene of the greatest
festivities, for a very beautiful and rich lady used to be its
mistress; yet it is sad to relate that she was a very wicked woman and
guilty of all sorts of crimes.
She had but one child, whom, like Frau Hütt, she spoiled in every
point; she cleaned it, too, with new bread and cake crumbs, because
they were softer than sponges. One day a venerable hermit who had been
sent to warn the proprietress, arrived in the castle and paternally
exhorted her to give up her evil ways; but in spite of him she carried
on her wicked practices more than ever, so that the hermit went away in
despair. He had scarcely left the castle when it sank, together with
its mistress and her son, into the earth, and a calm See filled up its
place.
But a short time afterwards the lake began to bubble and boil, and the
guilty mistress of the castle rose out of it in the form of a fearful
dragon, or “Lindwurm,” which in its fury bit and tore at the banks of
the See for the purpose of making an outlet for the water. This outlet
forms the little river which runs through the fields belonging to the
parishes of Oetz and Sauters; and the Tyrolians still say of little
rivers that come out of the mountains: “Here a Lindwurm has bored its
way through.”
_THE WITCHES’ WALK ON THE KREUZJOCH._
Near the village of Mieders, in the Stubaythal, lies a little side
valley, in which in dreary solitude stands a small wooden hut opposite
to an old, half-ruinous farm-building. In this hut there lived, some
fifty years ago, a wicked woman, called Töglas Moid, who was originally
married to an honest peasant of the neighbourhood, who, however, died
soon after through grief at the bad practices of his wife. After his
death she led a yet worse life, and was in consequence everywhere
dreaded as a witch; for she was known to have done, and to still do,
endless harm among the cows. She had chosen five other women of her
feather to be her companions and helpmates, and often the whole six
of them set out from Mieders to the Telfes mountain, where at certain
times they have been seen by the herdsmen carrying on their unholy
Sabbath.
At last it seems that they went to such an extent that they entered
into a compact with the Evil One, and then the destruction which they
caused in the surrounding country was so great that the villagers were
forced to apply for the aid of the Church, according to whose decree
they had to appear before the tribunal, where the five companions of
Töglas Moid confessed everything, and from that time began to lead a
new life; while she who had led them on in all their wickedness became
worse and worse every day, and carried on her diabolical practices
alone during yet another five long years, until at last the measure of
her iniquities was full.