by John Oxenford.
Originally published in Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance (Chapman and Hall) vol.2 #3 (1847).
[These legends, which are really traditional, were never printed in any language till the present year, when they appeared in a collection made by M.L. Bechstein, and were published in a work devoted by that gentleman to German antiquities. No attempt has been made to dress them up as works of art, but the tradition has been preserved in its perfect simplicity; and in this English version, the language of the original has been followed. The fourth and fifth legends seem to me to give hints that might be successfully followed by the romancist or the dramatist.—J.O.]
I. THE WHISPER VOICE.
In the woody chain of rocks of the Wisperthal, which is so rich in traditions, and which is formed out of seven small valleys, and near Lorch, on the Rhine, stands a mill, upon the Wisperbach, leaning close upon the mountain, on which are the ruins of the castles Kammerberg and Rheinberg. Here, some ears ago, a miller lived happily with his wife and children, enjoying a sufficient income without being wealthy. This peaceful happiness lasted till the time when his wife told him, that without perceiving anybody, she had heard a voice, which whispered to her—"Go to the old Castle Kammerberg and take the treasure which is contained in a chest there, in which is also the key." The miller endeavoured to drive this notion out of his wife's head, saying her senses must have deceived her, or that it must be a delusion of some sort. For his part, he neither wished to hear of spiritual whisperings nor to trouble himself with treasure-finding.
The good wife, however, was not so ready to give up the thought of sudden wealth; and the command of her husband to pay no attention to the voice had heard was not in accordance with her wishes, so that she appeared somewhat angry and discontented. Some days after she had made the communication to her husband, she was missing at dinner. The miller immediately made inquiries of the family, and learned from his eldest boy, that his mother had, a few hours before, with the youngest, a suckling, in her arms, gone up the path to the castle. He immediately recollected his conversation with his wife, thought of her troubled deportment since, and quickly ascended the mountain to seek her.
The miller had scarcely entered the ruins, when he heard the whimpering voice of his little one. He followed the sound, and in one of the towers found his wife lying lifeless on the ground, and the crying child near her. Much shocked, he snatched her up with the child, still felt signs of life in her, and, half dragging her, half carrying her, took her down to the mill.
Some hours passed before the miller's wife recovered her consciousness, and then, in a weak voice, she told her husband as follows:—Every day since he had forbidden her to think of the voice, she had heard it whispering, about noon—"Dame, come to the castle, and take the treasure, that I may be released." On this day, the same had been repeated, and she had been resolute enough to ascend the path with the child, the voice accompanying her, and whispering to her by the way that she should be of good courage, and take the treasure, and that no harm would befal her, only she must not speak a single word, whatever she might hear or see. The treasure, according to the voice, was in a chest, in the round tower; and every day, at noon, she might take as much as she pleased. Accompanied by this whispering, she at last reached the ruins, and her mind became lighter and more resolute at every step. She entered the tower, saw the iron chest and the key, opened it immediately, and perceived the golden mammon. Suddenly a voice was heard, like that of her eldest son, crying—"Mother, mother!" Annoyed at being interrupted, the good wife exclaimed, sharply—"What's the matter?" Then the wails trembled, the wind raged, and the chest sunk with a frightful crash, while a voice sounded awfully from the vault—Alas! how many ages must pass before I shall be released!" Upon this she fell senseless, with the child.
This was the woman's narrative; and whether her fright was occasioned by fancy or any natural cause, she became sick, and-died a few days afterwards, a physician who had been called in having in vain endeavoured to save her. The miller himself told the adventure, in the year 1814, to a traveller on the Rhine.
II. THE GLOWING COALS AT LORCH.
(Traditional on the Rhine.)
At Lorch, the well-known town on the Rhine, the following took place, about fifty years ago. The maid-servant at a mill contiguous to the town-wall, awoke, as she thought, pretty early one morning, and as it was already very light, hastened to make a fire in the kitchen. From the kitchen window, she saw a heap of burning coals under the gate. She hurried out, that with these coals she might light her fire more speedily. She perceived that there were several strange men lying round the fire; but without asking any questions, she took a whole shovelful of the coals, which she had no sooner shaken upon the hearth than they were extinguished. She ran out a second time, and again brought in a shovelful of coals, though with no better success, When, in an ill-humour, she went, for the third time, to the glimmering heap, one of the men said—"Listen—this time is the last!" At this, an unspeakable horror took possession of the girl—she could hardly reach her home; and, as quickly as possible, she flung upon the hearth the coals, which again went out. The steeple clock then struck, with a moaning sound, twelve at midnight, and the bright coal fire vanished under the gate, while the girl, trembling, wrapped herself up in bed, and expected her last hour. The miller, when he came into the kitchen on the following morning, was astonished at finding his hearth covered with gold pieces, and, delighted with his treasure, built himself, at Lorch, a new house, which is still standing there.
III. THE WHITE HORSEWOMAN.
The people have many traditions respecting the ruins of the fallen castle of Boyneburg, which belongs to the very ancient family of the name, and which lies on the borders of Hesse and Thüringen, where the road leads from Caggel to Leipzig. Many can be learned only piecemeal, others are distorted, but the pith of them is often to be found in its genuine state. The following are all taken from oral tradition:--
A beautiful virgin, clad in white, rides upon a white palfrey every night of a full moon, from the interior of the castle to the wide plain, which extends in front of it, on the summit of the mountain; there, in a certain spot, grows a beautiful white lily with a purple cup. When the maiden has reached this, she descends from her horse, breaks off the flower, and again mounting her palfrey, hurries away, as swift as the wind, to the walls, where she vanishes amid the gloom of the extensive ruins. He who is so happy as to meet the maiden on her return, and is also of a pure heart, may venture to cry to her—"Give me the flower!" This wish will be granted, the gates will be opened to long passages leading under the castle and the whole mountain, and he will be fortunate enough to find as many treasures as will make him the richest of mortals. The maiden has often been seen with the lily in her hand, but none have been fortunate enough to obtain it.
Treasure-seekers have often rummaged the vaults of the castle, and by chance they have discovered subterraneous passages, which lead under the mountain in different directions. In many places the ground, if you tread hard upon it, sounds hollow, and it is a fact that, during the thirty years' war, the inhabitants of the neighbouring towns, such as Eschwege, Sondra, &c., brought valuables here for security; but the seekers were never rewarded with anything of importance. By this constant rummaging, both vaults and passages have fallen in, and the search has ceased; but still the maiden rides in the full moon over the mountain plain with the wonderful flower.
IV. THE BEQUEST TO THE POOR.
On the mountain which bears the ruins of the Boyneburg stood an oak of a thousand years, beneath which, on a sultry summer's day, slumbered the only daughter of a knight of Boyneburg. A fearful storm gathered and poured down in torrents, and shone upon by the lightning and roused by the peals of thunder, the lady awoke. She had scarcely advanced a few steps, to hasten through the storm to the sheltering castle, when a flash struck the tree, and she fell senseless to the ground. Thus was she found, after the storm had ceased raging, and she was carried for dead into the castle. At last, however, she revived in the arms of her anxious father, who, grateful that his daughter was restored to him, granted a donation to the poor charged upon the villages on his estate. Every Maunday Thursday, the chaplain of Castle Boyneburg was to hold a thanksgiving on the site of the cleft oak, for the deliverance of the lady, and bread made out of twelve bushels of corn and the flesh of a single hog was to be distributed among the poor, that they also might thank God for the restoration of their lord's daughter. She took the veil, and to the present day the gift is faithfully bestowed; the pastor at Datterode, who takes the revenues of the chaplaincy of Castle Boyneburg, holding the discourse. In the four-and-twenty villages belonging to the castle there is no poor person who would miss going there; and however the bread and meat may be diminished by the multitude, still a blessing throughout the whole year seems to rest on him who participates in the gift.
Once it happened, that on account of the heavy snow on Maunday Thursday, the wagon which carried the bread and meat could not ascend the mountain, and the wagoner was turning back, when suddenly a lady clothed in white, and with a threatening countenance, appeared on the wagon. The terrified wagoner again turned his wagon to ascend the path, surrounded by the swarms of people, when, behold! the snow gave way, and the four horses easily drew the full wagon, with the lady upon it, to the battlements, when she vanished, smiling. It was afterwards ordered, as the passage was often rendered impassable by the snow, and as the people were unwilling to disturb the white lady in her repose, that some persons should carry the donation up the mountain. The infamous Westphalian tyranny in Hesse obtained by purchase the third part of the baronial Boyneburg estates and villages, but would hear nothing of the bequest, and on the Maunday Thursday of the year 1908, it was omitted, together with the accustomed discourse. But it is said that a frightful apparition came to the King of Westphalia in a dream, and ordered him immediately to allow the solemnity to take place. So much is certain, that in the same year the proper officers were ordered to fulfil the bequest at Castle Boyneburg, and whatever might have been the motive for this order, the people to this day firmly believe that the king was acted on by the apparition of the mountain maiden.
V. THE LITTLE GRAY MAN.
About the middle of the last century, some hunters, engaged in the chase, met on the Boyneburg on a wet autumn day, and sought among the ruins for shelter from a coming shower. They had scarcely entered, when they perceived a little old man with white hair, clad entirely in gray, sitting among the moss and stones, and looking straight before him. They surrounded him, asked him whence he came, and what he was doing in the castle; but all their questions remained unanswered. They became angry, threatened, and even struck the little man; but his old face remained unruffled and kindly, without a sign of fear, pain, or contempt, though his mouth did not move. When they could do nothing with the man this way, and could learn nothing of the secrets of the earth, nor where the treasure was concealed, they took him bound to Reichensachsen to the castle of their lord, and told him what had happened. There, also, were all means tried to induce the man to speak, but neither the best food, nor hunger, nor threatening, nor coaxing, were of any avail, and the mysterious being seemed to be entirely without feeling. He was carefully watched, as it was hoped that in course of time more light might be gained, but he vanished in three days, and has never been seen since.