Germany! land of mystery and of mind! birth-place of Schiller and
Goëthe, with what emotions does not every lover of romance sit down to
peruse thy own peculiar, dreamy traditions! Thy very name conjures up
visions of demons, and imps, and elfs, and all the creations of faery
land, with their varied legends of _diablerie_, almost incredible in
number and singular in detail--and romance, in his gloomy mood, seems
here to have reared his strong hold.
At a time when a taste for the beauties of German literature is becoming
general throughout this country, we conceive that a few specimens of her
traditions may not be unacceptable to the reader. Few subjects are more
interesting than the popular legends of a country, which are the source
from whence many of our later novelists draw several of their writings:
they offer a field for reflection to the contemplative observer of man;
and those of Germany, although some are disfigured with a little too
much absurdity in their details, are confessedly a mine of wealth to the
lover of research in such matters. Here Schiller first drew the sources
of his inspiration; here Goëthe first electrified mankind with his
writings--works which will render both immortal; it is, indeed, a mine
which has been and will bear much working.
We have chosen the following tradition, both on account of the merit it
possesses, and its being the unquestionable origin of Washington
Irving's inimitable _Rip Von Winkle_. Indeed, the similarity of the
story is strikingly obvious. We believe there are several legends on
this subject, which, with the present, probably all refer to the Emperor
Frederic Barbarossa, whose adventures form the source of many a story
among the Germans. The original tale is nearly as follows:--It seems the
emperor was once compelled to conceal himself, with a party of his
followers, amongst the Kyffhaüsen mountains; there he still lives, but
is under the influence of magic. He sits with his adherents on a seat
before a stone table, leaning his head upon his hands, seeming to
slumber; but apparently his sleep is very restless, and his head nods,
and seems as if he were going to awake, and his red beard has grown
through the table down to his feet. He takes pretty long naps, not more
than a hundred years in length at a stretch: when his slumber is
interrupted, he is fabled to be very fond of music; and it is said that
there was a party of musicians, who once gave him a regular serenade in
his subterranean retreat, doubtless expecting some wonderful token of
his generosity in return; but they received nothing for their pains but
a number of green boughs, which so disgusted them, that they all threw
them away on their return to earth, save one, who, however, had no
suspicion of its worth, for on showing it to his wife, to his great
astonishment, each leaf became a golden coin.
An author before us observes, that this tale of the emperor's slumbers
cannot, perhaps, be deemed original, and is probably a popular version
of the Seven Sleepers, "not a little disfigured by the peculiar
superstition of the country." The same writer remarks, with justice,
that it is surprising how few are the sources, and how scanty the parent
stock, from whence all the varieties of European legend are derived.
Indeed, the foundation of a great part of these legendary stories seems
to have been the heathen mythology of the different countries, and the
various tales of superstition being handed down from one generation to
another, have gradually assumed the shape they now bear; from whence may
be traced most of our popular superstitions.