The Norgen were a mighty folk in olden time in Tirol. In their
span-high bodies resided a power which no child of man, were he ever
so stalwart and well-limbed, could resist. But they were also for
the most part a peaceable race, and more inclined to assist than to
obstruct the industrious inhabitants of the country in their labours;
so long as they were treated with respect and deference they seldom
interfered with any one. Then they were generally scrupulously
honourable, and strict keepers of their word. A service rendered
one of them was sure to be repaid a hundredfold. An injury brought
a corresponding retribution, and scorn, contempt, or ridicule roused
their utmost vengeance; while some there were who entertained a true
spirit of mischief, and indulged in wanton tricks which showed their
character was not altogether free from malice.
They were most often to be met in lonely paths and unfrequented
fastnesses of nature, but a solitary Nörglein could also occasionally
stray within the haunts of men, at times asking hospitality at their
hands, and at others getting into the bedrooms at night, and teasing
the children in their sleep, hence the common proverb--
"Shut the door closely to,
Or the Norg will come through [6]."
And at other times, again, they would take part in the field and
household labours, as if they found it sport. The name of Norg
was chiefly appropriated to them in South Tirol; in Vorarlberg the
analogous cobbold went by the name of Rutschifenggen. Every locality,
every valley, every hamlet, and almost every farm, had its own familiar
dwarf whose doings were handed down as household words.
Thus it is told that there was once a countrywoman, who lived in a
lonely Meierhof [7] of the Passeierthal, standing over her stove,
preparing a pancake for her husband's dinner, and as he was a great
eater she used an immense number of eggs--three dozen and more--in
his pancake: as fast as she broke the eggs into the pan, she threw
the shells behind her. Three Norgs came by as she was so occupied
and amused themselves with playing with them and arranging them into
all kinds of patterns. The Meierin [8] was a grumpy sort of woman,
and instead of finding pleasure in the glee of the little people,
grew cross with them, and scattered the dirty black ashes among the
egg-shells they had arranged so prettily. Offended at this ill-natured
treatment, the Norgs took their departure, but first laid the thread
of the good wife's spinning-bobbin as a snare across the floor,
and then stationed themselves outside the window to see what happened.
Presently the husband called to know if the pancake was not ready, and
the Meierin, running to satisfy him, with both hands engaged in holding
the dish of the enormous pancake, caught her feet in the thread, and
fell flat on the ground with her face in the dish, while the three
Norgs completed her vexation by setting up a loud laugh in chorus.
Here is another story of their doings, in which they play a different
part. There was a storm in the valley of Matsch, and a storm in the
valley of Matsch is often a terrible matter. This was one of the
worst: the pitiless flood streamed down the heights, and threatened
to overflow the banks of the Hochseen [9]; the wind from the glacier
howled dismally over the mountain-sides; the people closed their
doors and shutters against the blast, and listened to the roar of the
elements, trembling with the thought that every moment might come the
signal of the inundation which should carry them and their habitations
away in its torrent. In the solidest and most important house of
the straggling village, which bears the same name as the valley,
was gathered the family of the richest man of the place, who had no
reason to share these fears, but with singing and lively conversation
chased away the dismal influence of the lugubrious sounds without.
Suddenly, between the angry gusts of wind, a doleful voice was heard
piteously praying for help. One of the party opened the casement,
and looked out, but with more of curiosity than interest, and then
quickly closing it again, came back into the room with a laugh to
describe the ludicrous figure he had seen. It was a little mannikin
with a beard big enough for a full-grown man, his clothes drenched
with the rain, and slung over his shoulder a tiny bundle tied in a
handkerchief, which yet seemed to bow him down with its weight. The
description provoked a chorus of laughter, and the wretched little
Norg--for it was a Norg--would have been no more thought of but that
his wail became more irritating than that of the wind, and at last
the master of the house got up and shouted to him to go on, for it
was useless to stand droning there, he was not going to open his house
at that time of night, or to such a ridiculous object. But though he
banged the window to as closely as possible after delivering himself
of this speech, the little man's menacing couplet yet reached his ear--
"The reckoning day
Is not far away [10]."
Nevertheless the Norg begged no more, but endeavoured to pass on his
way. He could not get far: the torrents of rain had obliterated the
path which led from the rising ground on which this house was built,
to the next, and it was scarcely safe to descend in the dark with the
loose stones rattling away under the feet. Fortunately a glimmering
light betrayed a low hut built into the slope. It looked so poor and
humble, that the Norg felt ashamed to ask aught of its inhabitants,
who could scarcely have had enough for their own needs; but when he
saw how utterly forlorn was his position, he sat down on a stone,
and wept. Notwithstanding that the poor little Norg had such a
hoarse voice that it was more like that of a wild animal than a man,
there was a compassionate little maid within who perceived it was a
voice of distress, and put her head out to ask who was there. "Poor
old man!" she cried; "come inside and dry yourself, and let me give
you something warm." But before he could answer he heard a weak voice
within, "Beware, Theresl, of the wolves--remember we are in 'Matsch der
Wölfe Heimath [11].'" "Never fear, mother dear," replied the maiden,
"this is no wolf, but a very distressed little old man, who does not
look as if he could harm any one; and besides we are now in June--the
wolves don't threaten us in the summer," and she opened the door,
and let in the little man.
By the time she had dried his clothes and fed him with some warm
soup, the worst of the storm had abated, and he was able to go on his
way. The maiden offered him shelter for the night, but he declared
he must reach home before midnight, and prepared to depart. Before
he left he asked her what there was she most desired. "Oh, that my
mother be restored to health!" answered Theresa; "I desire nothing
more than that!"
The Norg walked to the bedside, and informed himself of the
nature of the sick mother's illness. "Your mother shall be
cured," said the little man; "but you must come to me to-morrow
at midnight to the Nörgelspitz;" and as the girl started at the
impossibility of the feat, he continued, "You have only to make
your way as far as the Wetterkreuz, and there call three times
'Kruzinegele! Kruzinegele! Kruzinegele!' and I will be at your side,
and take you up the rest of the way." And he took his departure,
singing,--
"Morgen oder Heut
Kommt die Zahlzeit."
The next night Theresa courageously set out on her way, and climbed
as far as the Wetterkreuz--and it was lucky she had to go no farther,
for here she sank down quite exhausted. She had not lain there many
seconds when she saw a procession of little men just like Kruzinegele,
with a litter and torches, who carried her up till they came to
a door in the rock, which opened at their approach. This led to a
magnificent crystal hall glittering with gold and gems, and on a
gold throne sat Kruzinegele himself, with his fair daughter by his
side. When the litter was brought to the steps of the throne, he
came down courteously, and renewed his thanks for her hospitality,
but she could not find a word to say, in her astonishment at seeing
him so changed. Meantime he sent his daughter to fetch the herbs
which were to cure the poor mother, and gave them to her, telling
her how to administer them. "You see," he added,--
"Morgen oder Heut
Kommt die Zahlzeit;
and your rich neighbour will find it so too." Then he told the little
men to carry her home, and they laid her in the litter, and bore
her away; and she remembered nothing more till she found herself
comfortably in bed, with the rising sun kissing her cheeks. But the
appearance of every thing was as much changed as Kruzinegele himself
had been! The walls that used to bulge, and reek with mildew and
damp, were straight and smooth; glass casements replaced the ricketty
shutters; nice white curtains tempered the sunshine; the scanty and
broken furniture was replaced by new. But what she valued above all,
in her hand were the herbs which were to make her mother's healing
drink! Their decoction was her first occupation; and by the next day
they had restored her mother to health, and joy once more reigned in
the cottage, thanks to the Norg!
It had been the rich churl's custom, equally with the other villagers,
to take his cattle on to the mountain pastures to graze for the
beginning of the summer season am Johanni [12]. His grazing ground
was just the highest pasture of the Nörgelspitz. The festival now
soon arrived, and the picturesque processions of cattle with their
herds went lowing forth as usual, to enjoy their summer feed.
When the Norg's enemy, however, arrived at his destination, instead
of the emerald slopes he was wont to find, with their rich yield of
marbel and maim [13], all ready prepared by St. Martin's care [14] for
the delight of his cows and sheep, all was stony and desolate! Three
days they spent wandering about in search of a few blades to browse,
but even this was denied them--nor ever again did the Nörgelspitz
bring forth any thing but ice and snow!
Of the sleek droves which had started, the envy of all beholders, few
beasts lived to return; the prosperity of the once flourishing Hof
had fled, and before many years were out its proprietor was obliged
to leave it, a ruined man. Theresa had in the meantime married a
thrifty peasant, whose industry enabled him to be the purchaser of
the abandoned Hof, which he soon stocked to the full extent of former
days. Ofttimes a curious grey-bearded little stranger would drop in
at night to share their comfortable meal, and before he went away he
would always sing his couplet--
"Morgen oder Heut
Kommt die Zahlzeit."
Such occasional apparitions of the strange visitants excited the
curiosity of the inhabitants of the earth to the utmost, and many a
weird story was told of frightful injury happening to those who had
striven to penetrate their retreat, and for a long period none had
any success in the enterprise.
It happened one day, however, that a daring hunter who had been led
far from his usual track, and far from the country with which he was
familiar, by the pursuit of a gemsbock, found himself at the entrance
of a low-arched cavern. As night was about to fall and the sky wore
a threatening aspect, he was glad to creep within this shelter till
the light of morning should enable him to find his way home once more.
He had not proceeded far within the dim corridor, when he perceived
that in proportion as he got farther from the light of day the cave
became brighter instead of darker! Eagerly seeking the cause of this
phenomenon, he perceived that the walls were all encrusted with gold
and precious stones, which emitted constant sparkles of light. He
thereby recognized at once that he had reached an approach to one of
the resorts of the Mountain-folk, as the Norgs were also called from
having their habitation in the hearts of the mountains.
To avoid the fate of those who had ventured within the mysterious
precincts, he was about to make good his escape, when he felt something
soft under his feet. It proved to be a red hood or cap, dropped there
by one of the Mountain-folk, a veritable Tarnkappe which had the
property of making the wearer invisible to men, and also enabled him
to command admission to any part of the subterranean settlement. He
had scarcely placed it on his head when one of the little men of the
mountain came running up to look for his lost cap. Fritzl the hunter
was much too cunning to give up the advantage of its possession, but
with great good humour he told the dwarf he reckoned it too great an
advantage to have the opportunity of visiting his beautiful territory
to give it up for nothing; but he assured him he should have no reason
to regret having given him admission. The dwarf could not choose but
obey, and the Jäger enjoyed the singular privilege of surveying all
the hidden treasures of the underground world.
Beautiful are the glories of the mountain world as seen by mortal
eyes--gorgeous its colours when illumined by the southern sun,
but all this is as barren darkness compared with the glories hidden
within its stony recesses. Here, the sky overhead was all of diamonds
and sapphires and carbuncles, and their light sparkled with tenfold
glory and beauty to the light of the sun and moon and stars; the
trees were of living gold and silver, and the flowers and fruit of
precious stones; the grass all of crystal and emerald; there was
no cold or heat, no perplexing change of season, but one perpetual
spring spread its balmy air around; lakes there were all of opal and
mother-o'-pearl, and gorgeously plumed swans perpetually crossing
them served the inhabitants in lieu of boats.
The Jäger's delight and admiration at all these sights won the sympathy
and regard of his guide, and by degrees he grew more communicative,
and explained to him the whole economy of their mode of life. He showed
him how they were divided into three distinct classes: those wearing
red caps, who were gay and good-natured, and filled with goodwill
towards mankind also, notwithstanding many wild pranks; those with
brown caps, whose mischief was mingled with malice rather than fun,
but who yet would suffer themselves to be propitiated; and those
with black caps, always gloomy and morose, who boded evil wherever
they went. His guide advised him to have nothing to say to these,
but with some of the red and brown he was admitted to converse: he
found them pleasant and sociable, and ready enough to communicate
their ideas. Some asked him questions, too, about various matters
which seemed to have puzzled them in their peregrinations on earth,
while others, who had never been outside their own habitations,
had other inquiries to make--but some there were also who had no
curiosity on the subject, but rather contempt; and one thing that
amused the Jäger in them was their incapacity to conceive many of
the things he had to tell them, and particularly to understand what
he could mean when he talked about death.
Chiefly to keep the spiteful freaks of the black-caps in check
there was a guard of warrior dwarfs, whose array was shown to our
Jäger. Formidable they must have been, for the armour of each was made
out of one diamond, and they wore helmets and greaves and shields all
of diamonds, and while they were thus impervious to every attack, their
swords were of diamond too, and resistless therefore in their thrusts.
The Jäger could not restrain his raptures at their gorgeous show, as
the colours of the gems around were reflected in this shining armour.
The dwarf had nothing left to show after this, but then stood and
sighed over the glories of the past. "And what were the glories of the
past?" inquired the Jäger, with intense interest. The dwarf watched his
interlocutor closely, and satisfied himself that his interest was not
feigned. Then he paused long, as hesitating whether to unburden himself
to a stranger of the sad thoughts which crowded into and oppressed
his mind. A few words of sympathy, however, decided him at last
"Yes, we still have some power and some riches left, and some of
our ancient strength, but we have lost our kings, the kernel of
our strength. It is true, we are able to surprise you with isolated
exhibitions of riches and power, but, on the whole, your people has got
the better of ours; and since your heroes of old destroyed the last of
our royal race, we have been a doomed, disorganized, dwindling race,
fast disappearing from our ancient fastnesses."
"And how happened it that our people got the better of yours? How
did our heroes destroy your royal race? I pray you tell me."
The dwarf led the Jäger into a delicious alcove of the opal rock, whose
pure, pale lustre seemed more in accordance with his melancholy mood
than the garish brilliancies that had hitherto surrounded them. They
laid them down on the bank, and the dwarf thus recounted the story.