Part 7

For centuries past it has been the custom that on the Brenner Alp a tailor should live, for the purpose of mending the clothes of the teamsters who pass along that deserted road, on their way to or from Italy. Not long since, one of these men who occupied the hut left it to go and set up business in the inn, called ‘Schöllerwirthshaus,’ about three miles distant from the Brenner post-house. When not otherwise employed, he occupied his time in rolling heavy stones down into the valley below, knocking to pieces the carts of the teamsters, and killing the horses or men, so that the poor fellows were generally forced to stop at the inn, and when on their arrival, they complained or lamented about their misfortune, the tailor sympathized with them, while taking the occasion to cheat them the more in selling them bad cloth, instead of good, and at much higher prices than were to be had at Brixen or Stertzing, saying that the higher they went up the mountain, the shorter was the wood, as they could see on the trees, and so it was the same with his tailor’s yard.

This tailor died suddenly, and, as penance for his crimes, he was obliged to walk in ghostly form between the Brenner post-house and the Schöllerwirthshaus, and even as far down as Gossensass, where he practised many a cruel trick, and still made stones roll down upon the road. At last the harm he did was so great that the teamsters found themselves forced to apply to some Capuchins of Stertzing to banish the ghost. The Capuchins ascended the mountain, and banished him for the winter to the Zirock Alp, while for the summer they consigned him to the mountain called Hühnerspielspitze, which is plainly visible from Stertzing, and from whose peak he often cries so loudly that he is to be heard in the whole valley down below, “Ah! is then the last day not yet near? Ah! if only the last day would soon arrive.”

The ghost is forced to roll a great number of stones down into the valley, and every one of those stones he is obliged to carry up again on his shoulders. One day an old herdsman placed upon one of these stones a stick, upon which he had cut a cross, and when the ghost found it he threw it on one side and rolled the stone on. When the herdsman found his stick again, several days afterwards, there were five finger-marks burned into it.

_THE THREE SISTERS OF FRASTANZ._

To the east of Frastanz, upon the boundaries of Feldkirch, lies a chain of mountains, leading southwards towards the principality of Lichtenstein, out of which range rise three lofty bare grey jagged mountain peaks, which form the boundary marks of the country, and bear the name of “the Three Sisters,” to which are joined the Frastanz Alps.

Towards the end of the last century, a Venediger-Manndl used to come every year into that country, for the purpose of picking up gold, of which large quantities were to be found, especially in the forest valley of Samina, which is situated between the Three Sisters and the Ziegerberg. The Manndl used to fly through the air from Venice, carrying a large jar, which he put under a mountain spring, which threw up gold grains from a subterranean river, and when the jar was full he flew off with it home again. As a proof, he once showed the jar full of gold to some herdsmen, who were pasturing their cows in the neighbourhood; but they would not be taken in, and so they crossed themselves and let the Venetian go, for they knew that he was a sorcerer, who practised his arts through supernatural power, like all Venediger-Manndl used to do.

At that time, there lived at Frastanz three sisters, who upon a great _fête_ day, instead of going to mass, set out very early in the morning to climb the mountain, for the purpose of gathering strawberries, which grew there in quantities, with the intention of selling them in the afternoon at Feldkirch. Upon the mountain they met the Venediger-Manndl, who indignantly and furiously asked them, “What are you doing here to-day?” The girls were terrified, for their consciences reproached them for having neglected their duty on such a great _fête_ day, for the sake of gaining a little money, and they answered, “Nothing, nothing.” Then the sorcerer replied, with a voice towering with passion, “Well, then, you shall turn into nothing, nothing but bare rocks, without grass or leaf, without tree or fruit, and beneath you shall be hidden my golden wealth, which no mortal being shall ever succeed in finding.” At the same moment the three girls were turned into stone, for the sorcerer, in gaining power over them by their crime, redeemed himself, and delivered them in his stead to the evil one.

There still stand the Three Sisters, touching the clouds as three mountain peaks; but the Venetian has never been seen again, and his wealth-stream is said to have been dried up. The Three Sisters look solemnly down upon the upper part of the valley, called Rheinthal, upon Vaduz, and the country of Lichtenstein.

_THE ROSE GARDEN OF KING LAURIN._

The beautiful and charming surroundings of the village of Algund and the castle of Tirol, which stands above it, are still called the “Rose Garden of King Laurin.”

Laurin was the name of a King of the dwarfs; he was old and wise, as well as mild and kind, and he had a daughter, who was as amiable and beautiful as a fairy, or “Salige.” This lovely Princess wished to have a garden, and begged her father to give her some ground in the light of the sun, for the King lived in a crystal castle, deep in the interior of the mountain, which crowns the old castle of Tirol. The good father granted his daughter’s wish, who now set to work to exterminate all weeds and evil plants from the plain which her father had given her, and planted it with all sorts of rose-trees. In this manner her Rosen-Garten became so beautiful, that up to the present day its aspect renders the weary traveller happy, and causes him to forget for the time all pains and griefs, should he have any. So that every one might enjoy the beauties of her garden, she would not have walls, but surrounded it with gold tissue ribbons.

When and how this peaceful and joyous reign came to an end, the legend does not say; but the neighbourhood still remains a “Gottesgarten” (or paradise), although King Laurin and his beautiful daughter are no more to be seen; only the indisputable fact of their former existence lives fresh and green in the memory of all inhabitants of the surrounding country. Close to the village of Tirol, a dwarf is said to be still residing, whose comic name is Burzinigala, or Burzinigele. Another resides upon the mountain called Mutkopf, behind the same village, who chants in moonlight nights the following song to his native meadows:--“I am so grey, I am so old, that I remember thee three times as meadow-land, and three times as forest.”[3]

[3] “I bin so grau, I bin so alt, Denk di dreimal als Wies’, Und dreimal als Wald!”

Some people say that King Laurin on leaving his castle went to fight against giants and dwarfs in the country from Tirol’s Rosengarten, down to the charming Lago del Gardo, and towards Verona, where he was ultimately baptized, and became a Christian.

_THE PETRIFIED LOVERS OF KRAMSACH._

Near Kramsach, in the Under-Inn valley, on the spot where the 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._