Rübezahl

Over all the vast under-world the mountain Gnome Rübezahl was lord; and

busy enough the care of his dominions kept him. There were the endless

treasure chambers to be gone through, and the hosts of gnomes to be

kept to their tasks. Some built strong barriers to hold back the fiery

rivers in the earth’s heart, and some had scalding vapours to change

dull stones to precious metal, or were hard at work filling every

cranny of the rocks with diamonds and rubies; for Rübezahl loved all

pretty things. Sometimes the fancy would take him to leave those gloomy

regions, and come out upon the green earth for a while, and bask in the

sunshine and hear the birds sing. And as gnomes live many hundreds of

years he saw strange things. For, the first time he came up, the great

hills were covered with thick forests, in which wild animals roamed,

and Rübezahl watched the fierce fights between bear and bison, or

chased the grey wolves, or amused himself by rolling great rocks down

into the desolate valleys, to hear the thunder of their fall echoing

among the hills. But the next time he ventured above ground, what was

his surprise to find everything changed! The dark woods were hewn down,

and in their place appeared blossoming orchards surrounding

cosy-looking thatched cottages; from every chimney the blue smoke

curled peacefully into the air, sheep and oxen fed in the flowery

meadows, while from the shade of the hedges came the music of the

shepherd’s pipe. The strangeness and pleasantness of the sight so

delighted the gnome that he never thought of resenting the intrusion of

these unexpected guests, who, without saying “by your leave” or “with

your leave,” had made themselves so very much at home upon his hills;

nor did he wish to interfere with their doings, but left them in quiet

possession of their homes, as a good householder leaves in peace the

swallows who have built their nests under his eaves. He was indeed

greatly minded to make friends with this being called “man,” so, taking

the form of an old field labourer, he entered the service of a farmer.

Under his care all the crops flourished exceedingly, but the master

proved to be wasteful and ungrateful, and Rübezahl soon left him, and

went to be shepherd to his next neighbour. He tended the flock so

diligently, and knew so well where to lead the sheep to the sweetest

pastures, and where among the hills to look for any who strayed away,

that they too prospered under his care, and not one was lost or torn by

wolves; but this new master was a hard man, and begrudged him his

well-earned wages. So he ran away and went to serve the judge. Here he

upheld the law with might and main, and was a terror to thieves and

evildoers; but the judge was a bad man, who took bribes, and despised

the law. Rübezahl would not be the tool of an unjust man, and so he

told his master, who thereupon ordered him to be thrown into prison. Of

course that did not trouble the gnome at all, he simply got out through

the keyhole, and went away down to his underground palace, very much

disappointed by his first experience of mankind. But, as time went on,

he forgot the disagreeable things that had happened to him, and thought

he would take another look at the upper world.

So he stole into the valley, keeping himself carefully hidden in copse

or hedgerow, and very soon met with an adventure; for, peeping through

a screen of leaves, he saw before him a green lawn where stood a

charming maiden, fresh as the spring, and beautiful to look upon.

Around her upon the grass lay her young companions, as if they had

thrown themselves down to rest after some merry game. Beyond them

flowed a little brook, into which a waterfall leapt from a high rock,

filling the air with its pleasant sound, and making a coolness even in

the sultry noontide. The sight of the maiden so pleased the gnome that,

for the first time, he wished himself a mortal; and, longing for a

better view of the gay company, he changed himself into a raven and

perched upon an oaktree which overhung the brook. But he soon found

that this was not at all a good plan. He could only see with a raven’s

eyes, and feel as a raven feels; and a nest of field-mice at the foot

of the tree interested him far more than the sport of the maidens. When

he understood this he flew down again in a great hurry into the

thicket, and took the form of a handsome young man—that was the best

way—and he fell in love with the girl then and there. The fair maiden

was the daughter of the king of the country, and she often wandered in

the forest with her play fellows gathering the wild flowers and fruits,

till the midday heat drove the merry band to the shady lawn by the

brook to rest, or to bathe in the cool waters. On this particular

morning the fancy took them to wander off again into the wood. This was

Master Rübezahl’s opportunity. Stepping out of his hiding-place he

stood in the midst of the little lawn, weaving his magic spells, till

slowly all about him changed, and when the maidens returned at noon to

their favourite resting-place they stood lost in amazement, and almost

fancied that they must be dreaming. The red rocks had become white

marble and alabaster; the stream that murmured and struggled before in

its rocky bed, flowed in silence now in its smooth channel, from which

a clear fountain leapt, to fall again in showers of diamond drops, now

on this side now on that, as the wandering breeze scattered it.

Daisies and forget-me-nots fringed its brink, while tall hedges of

roses and jasmine ringed it round, making the sweetest and daintiest

bower imaginable. To the right and left of the waterfall opened out a

wonderful grotto, its walls and arches glittering with many-coloured

rock-crystals, while in every niche were spread out strange fruits and

sweetmeats, the very sight of which made the princess long to taste

them. She hesitated a while, however, scarcely able to believe her

eyes, and not knowing if she should enter the enchanted spot or fly

from it. But at length curiosity prevailed, and she and her companions

explored to their heart’s content, and tasted and examined everything,

running hither and thither in high glee, and calling merrily to each

other.

At last, when they were quite weary, the princess cried out suddenly

that nothing would content her but to bathe in the marble pool, which

certainly did look very inviting; and they all went gaily to this new

amusement. The princess was ready first, but scarcely had she slipped

over the rim of the pool when down—down—down she sank, and vanished in

its depths before her frightened playmates could seize her by so much

as a lock of her floating golden hair!

Loudly did they weep and wail, running about the brink of the pool,

which looked so shallow and so clear, but which had swallowed up their

princess before their eyes. They even sprang into the water and tried

to dive after her, but in vain; they only floated like corks in the

enchanted pool, and could not keep under water for a second.

They saw at last that there was nothing for it but to carry to the king

the sad tidings of his beloved daughter’s disappearance. And what great

weeping and lamentation there was in the palace when the dreadful news

was told! The king tore his robes, dashed his golden crown from his

head, and hid his face in his purple mantle for grief and anguish at

the loss of the princess. After the first outburst of wailing, however,

he took heart and hurried off to see for himself the scene of this

strange adventure, thinking, as people will in sorrow, that there might

be some mistake after all. But when he reached the spot, behold, all

was changed again! The glittering grotto described to him by the

maidens had completely vanished, and so had the marble bath, the bower

of jasmine; instead, all was a tangle of flowers, as it had been of

old. The king was so much perplexed that he threatened the princess’s

playfellows with all sorts of punishments if they would not confess

something about her disappearance; but as they only repeated the same

story he presently put down the whole affair to the work of some sprite

or goblin, and tried to console himself for his loss by ordering a

grand hunt; for kings cannot bear to be troubled about anything long.

Meanwhile the princess was not at all unhappy in the palace of her

elfish lover.

When the water-nymphs, who were hiding in readiness, had caught her and

dragged her out of the sight of her terrified maidens, she herself had

not had time to be frightened. They swam with her quickly by strange

underground ways to a palace so splendid that her father’s seemed but a

poor cottage in comparison with it, and when she recovered from her

astonishment she found herself seated upon a couch, wrapped in a

wonderful robe of satin fastened with a silken girdle, while beside her

knelt a young man who whispered the sweetest speeches imaginable in her

ear. The gnome, for he it was, told her all about himself and his great

underground kingdom, and presently led her through the many rooms and

halls of the palace, and showed her the rare and wonderful things

displayed in them till she was fairly dazzled at the sight of so much

splendour. On three sides of the castle lay a lovely garden with masses

of gay, sweet flowers, and velvet lawns all cool and shady, which

pleased the eye of the princess. The fruit trees were hung with golden

and rosy apples, and nightingales sang in every bush, as the gnome and

the princess wandered in the leafy alleys, sometimes gazing at the

moon, sometimes pausing to gather the rarest flowers for her adornment.

And all the time he was thinking to himself that never, during the

hundreds of years he had lived, had he seen so charming a maiden. But

the princess felt no such happiness; in spite of all the magic delights

around her she was sad, though she tried to seem content for fear of

displeasing the gnome. However, he soon perceived her melancholy, and

in a thousand ways strove to dispel the cloud, but in vain. At last he

said to himself: “Men are sociable creatures, like bees or ants.

Doubtless this lovely mortal is pining for company. Who is there I can

find for her to talk to?”

Thereupon he hastened into the nearest field and dug up a dozen or so

of different roots—carrots, turnips, and radishes—and laying them

carefully in an elegant basket brought them to the princess, who sat

pensive in the shade of the rose-bower.

“Loveliest daughter of earth,” said the gnome, “banish all sorrow; no

more shall you be lonely in my dwelling. In this basket is all you need

to make this spot delightful to you. Take this little many-coloured

wand, and with a touch give to each root the form you desire to see.”

With this he left her, and the princess, without an instant’s delay,

opened the basket, and touching a turnip, cried eagerly: “Brunhilda, my

dear Brunhilda! come to me quickly!” And sure enough there was

Brunhilda, joyfully hugging and kissing her beloved princess, and

chattering as gaily as in the old days.

This sudden appearance was so delightful that the princess could hardly

believe her own eyes, and was quite beside herself with the joy of

having her dear playfellow with her once more. Hand in hand they

wandered about the enchanted garden, and gathered the golden apples

from the trees, and when they were tired of this amusement the princess

led her friend through all the wonderful rooms of the palace, until at

last they came to the one in which were kept all the marvellous dresses

and ornaments the gnome had given to his hoped-for bride. There they

found so much to amuse them that the hours passed like minutes. Veils,

girdles, and necklaces were tried on and admired, the imitation

Brunhilda knew so well how to behave herself, and showed so much taste

that nobody would ever have suspected that she was nothing but a turnip

after all. The gnome, who had secretly been keeping an eye upon them,

was very pleased with himself for having so well understood the heart

of a woman; and the princess seemed to him even more charming than

before. She did not forget to touch the rest of the roots with her

magic wand, and soon had all her maidens about her, and even, as she

had two tiny radishes to spare, her favourite cat, and her little dog

whose name was Beni.

And now all went cheerfully in the castle. The princess gave to each of

the maidens her task, and never was mistress better served. For a whole

week she enjoyed the delight of her pleasant company undisturbed. They

all sang, they danced, they played from morning to night; only the

princess noticed that day by day the fresh young faces of her maidens

grew pale and wan, and the mirror in the great marble hall showed her

that she alone still kept her rosy bloom, while Brunhilda and the rest

faded visibly. They assured her that all was well with them; but,

nevertheless, they continued to waste away, and day by day it became

harder to them to take part in the games of the princess, till at last,

one fine morning, when the princess started from bed and hastened out

to join her gay playfellows, she shuddered and started back at the

sight of a group of shrivelled crones, with bent backs and trembling

limbs, who supported their tottering steps with staves and crutches,

and coughed dismally. A little nearer to the hearth lay the once

frolicsome Beni, with all four feet stretched stiffly out, while the

sleek cat seemed too weak to raise his head from his velvet cushion.

The horrified princess fled to the door to escape from the sight of

this mournful company, and called loudly for the gnome, who appeared at

once, humbly anxious to do her bidding.

“Malicious Sprite,” she cried, “why do you begrudge me my playmates—the

greatest delight of my lonely hours? Isn’t this solitary life in such a

desert bad enough without your turning the castle into a hospital for

the aged? Give my maidens back their youth and health this very minute,

or I will never love you!”

“Sweetest and fairest of damsels,” cried the gnome, “do not be angry;

everything that is in my power I will do—but do not ask the impossible.

So long as the sap was fresh in the roots the magic staff could keep

them in the forms you desired, but as the sap dried up they withered

away. But never trouble yourself about that, dearest one, a basket of

fresh turnips will soon set matters right, and you can speedily call up

again every form you wish to see. The great green patch in the garden

will provide you with a more lively company.”

So saying the gnome took himself off. And the princess with her magic

wand touched the wrinkled old women, and left them the withered roots

they really were, to be thrown upon the rubbish heap; and with light

feet skipped off across to the meadow to take possession of the freshly

filled basket. But to her surprise she could not find it anywhere. Up

and down the garden she searched, spying into every corner, but not a

sign of it was to be found. By the trellis of grape vines she met the

gnome, who was so much embarrassed at the sight of her that she became

aware of his confusion while he was still quite a long way off.

“You are trying to tease me,” she cried, as soon as she saw him. “Where

have you hidden the basket? I have been looking for it at least an

hour.”

“Dear queen of my heart,” answered he, “I pray you to forgive my

carelessness. I promised more than I could perform. I have sought all

over the land for the roots you desire; but they are gathered in, and

lie drying in musty cellars, and the fields are bare and desolate, for

below in the valley winter reigns, only here in your presence spring is

held fast, and wherever your foot is set the gay flowers bloom. Have

patience for a little, and then without fail you shall have your

puppets to play with.”

Almost before the gnome had finished, the disappointed princess turned

away, and marched off to her own apartments, without deigning to answer

him.

The gnome, however, set off above ground as speedily as possible, and

disguising himself as a farmer, bought an ass in the nearest

market-town, and brought it back loaded with sacks of turnip, carrot,

and radish seed. With this he sowed a great field, and sent a vast army

of his goblins to watch and tend it, and to bring up the fiery rivers

from the heart of the earth near enough to warm and encourage the

sprouting seeds. Thus fostered they grew and flourished marvellously,

and promised a goodly crop.

The princess wandered about the field day by day, no other plants or

fruits in all her wonderful garden pleased her as much as these roots;

but still her eyes were full of discontent. And, best of all, she loved

to while away the hours in a shady fir-wood, seated upon the bank of a

little stream, into which she would cast the flowers she had gathered

and watch them float away.

The gnome tried hard by every means in his power to please the princess

and win her love, but little did he guess the real reason of his lack

of success. He imagined that she was too young and inexperienced to

care for him; but that was a mistake, for the truth was that another

image already filled her heart. The young Prince Ratibor, whose lands

joined her father’s, had won the heart of the princess; and the lovers

had been looking forward to the coming of their wedding-day when the

bride’s mysterious disappearance took place. The sad news drove Ratibor

distracted, and as the days went on, and nothing could be heard of the

princess, he forsook his castle and the society of men, and spent his

days in the wild forests, roaming about and crying her name aloud to

the trees and rocks. Meanwhile, the maiden, in her gorgeous prison,

sighed in secret over her grief, not wishing to arouse the gnome’s

suspicions. In her own mind she was wondering if by any means she might

escape from her captivity, and at last she hit upon a plan.

By this time spring once more reigned in the valley, and the gnome sent

the fires back to their places in the deeps of the earth, for the roots

which they had kept warm through all the cruel winter had now come to

their full size. Day by day the princess pulled up some of them, and

made experiments with them, conjuring up now this longed-for person,

and now that, just for the pleasure of seeing them as they appeared;

but she really had another purpose in view.

One day she changed a tiny turnip into a bee, and sent him off to bring

her some news of her lover.

“Fly, dear little bee, towards the east,” said she, “to my beloved

Ratibor, and softly hum into his ear that I love him only, but that I

am a captive in the gnome’s palace under the mountains. Do not forget a

single word of my greeting, and bring me back a message from my

beloved.”

So the bee spread his shining wings and flew away to do as he was

bidden; but before he was out of sight a greedy swallow made a snatch

at him, and to the great grief of the princess her messenger was eaten

up then and there.

After that, by the power of the wonderful wand she summoned a cricket,

and taught him this greeting:

“Hop, little cricket, to Ratibor, and chirp in his ear that I love him

only, but that I am held captive by the gnome in his palace under the

mountains.”

So the cricket hopped off gaily, determined to do his best to deliver

his message; but, alas! a long-legged stork who was prancing along the

same road caught him in her cruel beak, and before he could say a word

he had disappeared down her throat.

These two unlucky ventures did not prevent the princess from trying

once more.

This time she changed the turnip into a magpie.

“Flutter from tree to tree, chattering bird,” said she, “till you come

to Ratibor, my love. Tell him that I am a captive, and bid him come

with horses and men, the third day from this, to the hill that rises

from the Thorny Valley.”

The magpie listened, hopped awhile from branch to branch, and then

darted away, the princess watching him anxiously as far as she could

see.

Now Prince Ratibor was still spending his life in wandering about the

woods, and not even the beauty of the spring could soothe his grief.

One day, as he sat in the shade of an oak tree, dreaming of his lost

princess, and sometimes crying her name aloud, he seemed to hear

another voice reply to his, and, starting up, he gazed around him, but

he could see no one, and he had just made up his mind that he must be

mistaken, when the same voice called again, and, looking up sharply, he

saw a magpie which hopped to and fro among the twigs. Then Ratibor

heard with surprise that the bird was indeed calling him by name.

“Poor chatterpie,” said he; “who taught you to say that name, which

belongs to an unlucky mortal who wishes the earth would open and

swallow up him and his memory for ever?”

Thereupon he caught up a great stone, and would have hurled it at the

magpie, if it had not at that moment uttered the name of the princess.

This was so unexpected that the prince’s arm fell helplessly to his

side at the sound, and he stood motionless.

But the magpie in the tree, who, like all the rest of his family, was

not happy unless he could be for ever chattering, began to repeat the

message the princess had taught him; and as soon as he understood it,

Prince Ratibor’s heart was filled with joy. All his gloom and misery

vanished in a moment, and he anxiously questioned the welcome messenger

as to the fate of the princess.

But the magpie knew no more than the lesson he had learnt, so he soon

fluttered away; while the prince hurried back to his castle to gather

together a troop of horsemen, full of courage for whatever might

befall.

The princess meanwhile was craftily pursuing her plan of escape. She

left off treating the gnome with coldness and indifference; indeed,

there was a look in her eyes which encouraged him to hope that she

might some day return his love, and the idea pleased him mightily. The

next day, as soon as the sun rose, she made her appearance decked as a

bride, in the wonderful robes and jewels which the fond gnome had

prepared for her. Her golden hair was braided and crowned with myrtle

blossoms, and her flowing veil sparkled with gems. In these magnificent

garments she went to meet the gnome upon the great terrace.

“Loveliest of maidens,” he stammered, bowing low before her, “let me

gaze into your dear eyes, and read in them that you will no longer

refuse my love, but will make me the happiest being the sun shines

upon.”

So saying he would have drawn aside her veil; but the princess only

held it more closely about her.

“Your constancy has overcome me,” she said; “I can no longer oppose

your wishes. But believe my words, and suffer this veil still to hide

my blushes and tears.”

“Why tears, beloved one?” cried the gnome anxiously; “every tear of

yours falls upon my heart like a drop of molten gold. Greatly as I

desire your love, I do not ask a sacrifice.”

“Ah!” cried the false princess, “why do you misunderstand my tears? My

heart answers to your tenderness, and yet I am fearful. A wife cannot

always charm, and though YOU will never alter, the beauty of mortals is

as a flower that fades. How can I be sure that you will always be as

loving and charming as you are now?”

“Ask some proof, sweetheart,” said he. “Put my obedience and my

patience to some test by which you can judge of my unalterable love.”

“Be it so,” answered the crafty maiden. “Then give me just one proof of

your goodness. Go! count the turnips in yonder meadow. My wedding feast

must not lack guests. They shall provide me with bride-maidens too. But

beware lest you deceive me, and do not miss a single one. That shall be

the test of your truth towards me.”

Unwilling as the gnome was to lose sight of his beautiful bride for a

moment, he obeyed her commands without delay, and hurried off to begin

his task. He skipped along among the turnips as nimbly as a

grasshopper, and had soon counted them all; but, to be quite certain

that he had made no mistake, he thought he would just run over them

again. This time, to his great annoyance, the number was different; so

he reckoned them for the third time, but now the number was not the

same as either of the previous ones! And this was hardly to be wondered

at, as his mind was full of the princess’s pretty looks and words.

As for the maiden, no sooner was her deluded lover fairly out of sight

than she began to prepare for flight. She had a fine fresh turnip

hidden close at hand, which she changed into a spirited horse, all

saddled and bridled, and, springing upon its back, she galloped away

over hill and dale till she reached the Thorny Valley, and flung

herself into the arms of her beloved Prince Ratibor.

Meanwhile the toiling gnome went through his task over and over again

till his back ached and his head swam, and he could no longer put two

and two together; but as he felt tolerably certain of the exact number

of turnips in the field, big and little together, he hurried back eager

to prove to his beloved one what a delightful and submissive husband he

would be. He felt very well satisfied with himself as he crossed the

mossy lawn to the place where he had left her; but, alas! she was no

longer there.

He searched every thicket and path, he looked behind every tree, and

gazed into every pond, but without success; then he hastened into the

palace and rushed from room to room, peering into every hole and corner

and calling her by name; but only echo answered in the marble

halls—there was neither voice nor footstep.

Then he began to perceive that something was amiss, and, throwing off

the mortal form that encumbered him, he flew out of the palace, and

soared high into the air, and saw the fugitive princess in the far

distance just as the swift horse carried her across the boundary of his

dominions.

Furiously did the enraged gnome fling two great clouds together, and

hurl a thunderbolt after the flying maiden, splintering the rocky

barriers which had stood a thousand years. But his fury was vain, the

thunderclouds melted away into a soft mist, and the gnome, after flying

about for a while in despair, bewailing to the four winds his unhappy

fate, went sorrowfully back to the palace, and stole once more through

every room, with many sighs and lamentations. He passed through the

gardens which for him had lost their charm, and the sight of the

princess’s footprints on the golden sand of the pathway renewed his

grief. All was lonely, empty, sorrowful; and the forsaken gnome

resolved that he would have no more dealings with such false creatures

as he had found men to be.

Thereupon he stamped three times upon the earth, and the magic palace,

with all its treasures, vanished away into the nothingness out of which

he had called it; and the gnome fled once more to the depths of his

underground kingdom.

While all this was happening, Prince Ratibor was hurrying away with his

prize to a place of safety. With great pomp and triumph he restored the

lovely princess to her father, and was then and there married to her,

and took her back with him to his own castle.

But long after she was dead, and her children too, the villagers would

tell the tale of her imprisonment underground, as they sat carving wood

in the winter nights.

[Volksmärchen der Deutschen.]