The Dwarfs of the Sachsenstein.
On the spot where the few houses forming Dorf Neuhof now stand lay, centuries ago, a farmhouse built of stone and ornamented with oddly-twisted chimneys.
A green meadow valley lay before the house, on which fat, comfortable-looking cows were grazing; well-scoured milk-pails hung on the garden fence, fruit-trees were trained on the house-walls, a powerful dog lay basking in the glowing sunshine before the door; from the well-populated barn-yard one heard an animated conversation among the feathered tribes, where a peacock was chairman, and made short emphatic speeches, and a turkey-cock filled the office of crier; in short, all bore the stamp of wealth and comfort.
And yet the owner of all, Herr Adam Neubauer, walked discontentedly up and down his room.
His sharp eye had long observed that pilfering hands had laid hold of his field-products, and it had pained him excessively that one would steal from him, for he had never permitted the needy to depart with empty hands; but in the last night so much had been stolen from his pea-field that his hitherto silent displeasure broke forth in expressions of anger.
"Anna," said he to his wife, a blonde of perhaps thirty years, with soft features and gentle dove eyes, "thou knowest I am patience itself, but that is too bad—that is too bad. The people take advantage of my forbearance and kindness, and it is time to let them see that I can also be angry. The first one I catch stealing, if he has only taken one ear, shall be so punished that he will forget to come again, thou mayest depend on it!"
"But, dear husband," replied Frau Anna, in a gentle voice, for she had not seen her husband so excited for a long time, "do not excite thyself so. Certainly it is vexatious when wicked men lay hands on our property; but as all the people of the earth are not purely honourable, if thou wilt appoint guards, thou wilt soon have the pleasure of seeing the thieves face to face."
"It is just that that makes me so angry," answered Neubauer—"that all the appointed sentinels do not help in the least. Since eight days, our servants, well hidden, have watched; but no one has shown himself, and nevertheless as much has been stolen as before. What is to be done?"
Anna heard with surprise this puzzling communication, and after many suppositions on the subject she went out shaking her head, to direct household matters, and Adam remained alone with his vexation.
The evening of the same day the heavens had greatly changed. It had been sultry all day, and now dark, silver-bordered clouds rose over the Harz, united and formed a colossal black wall.
It grew darker and darker. Hollow rolled the distant thunder, the dazzling lightnings flamed, and great drops fell. Fearfully raged the storm in the tops of the firs and beeches, and drove dust and gravel in wild whirls up the mountain path, on which now a wanderer, with hair wildly blowing in the wind and fluttering garments, descended.
Not a ray of light pierced the clouds save the fire of the lightning, followed ever more quickly by the deafening claps of thunder; in torrents the clouds now poured their streams on the mountains, the firm rocks seemed to quake to their foundations; it was as if the Dies Iræ were come.
Shivering with the cold rain, the wanderer hastened to the house of Adam Neubauer, which, by the flashes of the lightning, he had long perceived in the distance.
He had to wait long before his knocking was heard, for the storm turned the weathercock with a rattling noise, shook the tiles of the roof, and threw at intervals an open-hanging shutter violently to and fro.
At last the hospitable door was opened, and the honest house-father received the stranger—a perhaps sexagenarian of lofty stature, powerful frame, with a shrewd countenance and snow-white hair—with the greatest readiness; and Frau Anna hurried away to look out dry garments from her husband's wardrobe, and to order from larder and cellar a strengthening, refreshing repast.
The stranger soon found himself comfortable, and Herr Adam took so much pleasure in his guest that he became confidential by the first glass, and speedily related to him his losses in the fields with all particulars.
The guest listened attentively, and then went out for a few minutes to look at the neighbourhood.
He shortly returned, took his staff, thanked Neubauer for the hospitable reception, and said: "Ye were to me as to a near relative, me a perfect stranger; hence, hear as a reward my counsel. If ye would discover the thieves who rob your fields, go out at midnight and strike about in the air with a willow rod, and ye will soon see the cunning rascals. And now farewell!"
He disappeared through the door and left his host in the greatest amazement at his odd advice.
True, his astonishment gave place to scornful laughter, and Adam concluded to himself not to permit himself to be made a fool of; but as he found, several hours afterwards, that a new robbery had been committed, he decided, nevertheless, to follow the stranger's advice.
It was a glorious still night. In the shadows sang the queenly nightingale. The full moon shone in the cloudless heavens.
The precipitous wall of the Sachsenstein stood in shadowy contrast against the star-powdered blue, and seemed in the magical moonlight as if silvered.
Herr Adam stood early in his peafield watching, and as the bell in the neighbouring Sachsa rang out the midnight hour, he struck, as the stranger had advised, with the willow rod he had brought with him up and down in the air, and soon saw, with the greatest amazement, two tiny beings, who, with folded hands and terrified mien, looked up to him.
If they had taken advantage of Adam's surprise, they might have made their escape; but fear and terror rooted them to the spot till he had recovered himself, seized them with a firm hand, and asked in a stern voice who they were, and where they came from.
"Ah!" replied one of the little creatures, "we are poor dwarfs, who house there in the Sachsenstein, and never do anybody any harm. But hunger drove us this time to take some peas from your field. We beg you to forgive us, and we will make good the damage we have done."
"Of course you will," answered Herr Neubauer, who observed closely the little men, of whose acts and deeds he had already heard so much; "but the reckoning will be large, for you have long done mischief to my property. First of all, tell me how it happened that my watchers did not discover you, nor I myself till I struck with the willow rod?"
"We possess Nebelkappen,"[[1]] said one of the two dwarfs, "which render us invisible to the human sight. You knocked them off our heads with the willow rod, and then we became visible. Will you permit us to look for them?"
[[1]] Nebelkappen—magical caps; literally, fog caps.
"Certainly not," returned Adam. "Do you fancy I shall be so stupid as to put the means into your hands of escaping? No, no; you follow me into my house, and will not regain your freedom till you have paid me!"
The dwarfs wept, and pleaded so pitifully to be released, that Adam's mild heart grew soft; but a glance at his field hardened it again, and he took his trembling prisoners home with him.
The next morning the two guilty dwarfs were examined, who related that they, governed by a king, had dwelt for untold ages in the caves of the Harz, more especially in the Sachsenstein, and had been happy; but now subterranean floods and landslips had caused them heavy losses, so that they had been compelled to appropriate the possessions of men for their necessities.
They would, however, never again venture to do so, and once more expressed their willingness to pay for the damages they had caused, and begged to know the sum demanded of them.
"If I should reckon all the mischief you have caused," said Herr Adam, "a pretty long account would be the result; but I demand only the value of the peas, and if you pay me three Gulden I will set you at liberty."
The dwarfs were well satisfied with this demand, but protested that they had neither money nor articles of value with them, and begged permission to go and bring the money.
But Adam could not be induced to permit this. Even to keep one as hostage, and allow the other to depart, he absolutely refused.
"Well, then, give us a rose-leaf and a pin," begged the dwarfs. "We will write to our king, and he will undoubtedly at once release us from our painful positions."
After some reflection, Adam permitted his wife, who looked at him with beseeching eyes, to bring the required objects.
As soon as the dwarfs had bescribbled the rose-leaf, they handed it to him with directions to carry it to the Sachsenstein, and blow it in through one of the crevices, and a reply would speedily follow.
The features of the little creatures grew cheerful as they heard that their odd letter had been posted as directed, and they became merry and contented, although the day passed without anything happening for their release.
But when night came on, and the moon and stars shone in a clear sky, the door of the room opened suddenly in which Adam sat with his prisoners, and a troop of handsome dwarfs, neatly dressed, entered.
At their head walked the king himself, in gold and purple, and wearing a sparkling crown.
As soon as the prisoners beheld their sovereign they knelt reverently before him, and remained in that humble position until the monarch motioned to them to rise. The presence of the pygmean ruler was indeed so commanding, that Herr Neubauer himself involuntarily uncovered his head before him.
At last the king broke the silence, and said: "Ye have made two of my subjects prisoners, and I am come to interest myself on their behalf, for they are otherwise good men, who now only through pressure of circumstances have been led astray to do you damage. Moreover, that ye may see that I approve of your demand, I will cause ten times as much to be paid."
His Majesty signed to one of his suite, who immediately approached, and counted from a bag which he carried under his arm thirty shining new Gulden, and laid them on the table.
Adam opened his eyes on seeing so much money. He had already decided in his mind to set the delinquents free without ransom, as soon as he had frightened them a little.
Surprised at the royal generosity, he at once proclaimed to the prisoners their liberation, who sprang up with eyes shining with joy, fell at the feet of the Dwarf King, and thanked him for their freedom in the most touching expressions of gratitude.
After the king had graciously raised them from their knees, he turned again to Adam, and said: "I thank you that you have not harmed these poor people, and notify you that in future you have nothing to fear from us, for on St. John's Eve I shall march from this place over the bridge with my subjects. Already for a long period the subterranean water-floods have threatened to drive us from the Sachsenstein, which we have inhabited so long, and I shall leave only a few of my people, in order not to wholly lose this ancient possession; from them, however, you will suffer no molestation."
The sovereign bowed graciously and departed, attended by his train. The two released prisoners followed with joyful gestures, hand in hand.
St. John's Eve, Frau Anna and her husband, full of curiosity, together with the servants, hid themselves near the bridge to see the dwarfs march over.
Scarcely had the darkness come on, when the procession appeared in sight, a well-ordered company, and the concealed heard their march till the rising of the sun, and the noise thereof was like the light trampling of a flock of sheep.
Since that time nothing has been seen or heard of the dwarfs, and not only here but everywhere they are vanished; but their memory lives in the mouth of the people, and when the icy north wind blows, and the snow beats against the windows, young men and maidens gather around the fire in confidential chat, and to the rattling of the wheel tell of the deep clefts of the mountains, where in eternal night the dwarfs once held their weddings, and where gnomes and nymphs and fairies in darkness dwell.
The Burggeist[[1]] of the Haarburg.
[[1]] Burggeist—patron spirit.
The mountain called the Haarburg, which has a summit of only small circumference, bore in a long-forgotten time a fortress, which, like most ancient castles, consisted of a single strong tower.
In its walls were housed the first lords of Wernigerode. But the mountain on which the present Schloss Wernigerode stands was adorned only with the primeval forest.
For centuries the occupants of the Haarburg felt themselves happy in the grey giant tower, until a Graf Bodo dwelt in it. He was the father of a numerous progeny, and the tower grew too small for all the children and domestics, and he often felt a wish to have a more capacious dwelling.
An addition to the tower was not to be thought of, in consequence of the small space on the mountain summit; and one evening, as he sat with his wife before the entrance to the Haarburg, and looked out on the beautiful landscape, he said to her, pointing toward the mountain where the present castle stands:
"What thinkest thou? Would it not be well if we could live yonder? The mountain has plenty of space; and there would be room to build spacious salons and chambers, and even a chapel, and a single moat around the whole; then we should be able to entertain our friends, as many as could come. What is thy opinion?"
The lady of the castle quite agreed with her husband. They conversed long on the subject, and only separated as darkness began to settle over the vales and mountains, and the benevolent Luna hung out her silver lamp.
The night was lovely, and the Countess could not rest or sleep. She opened the window, and gazed at the shining moon, sank in thought, and did not observe that the moments fled swiftly, and midnight and the owls already hovered over her head.
Then, out of a corner of the chamber, with light, noiseless steps, issued an odd being, a little man, with an old, wrinkled face, a long grey beard, but with not disagreeable features.
His attire consisted of a grey coat and a pointed hat, and he carried a staff.
Silently the figure approached the thinking, dreaming Countess, on whose form the soft moonlight fell, and then twitched gently her garment with his tiny hand.
Alarmed, the Countess turned round, but lost all fear so soon as she beheld the form of the grey man.
She had recognised the Burggeist, who appeared seldom, but always brought happiness with him, and inquired in a gentle voice:
"What wilt them from me, thou good spirit?"
"I saw thee at such a late hour sitting in troubled thought," replied the patron spirit, in a melodious voice, "and came to ask the cause of thy sorrow. What trouble lies so heavily at thy heart?"
"No sorrow troubles me," said the Countess, smiling. "Only a wish moved my soul."
"And what might that be?" inquired the spirit, with strained attention.
"My husband," replied the Countess, "would wish this fortress on that spacious mountain opposite. He declares that we cannot live longer here; and I must say, after due reflection, he is perfectly right."
"Does it no longer please thee here?" asked the dwarf, with a quick-clouding face. "Ye men are right difficult to please! Thy ancestors have dwelt here for ages, happy and contented, and now ye would forsake the tower that has sheltered thy race so long. Ye are very ungrateful. If I had known that that was all that troubled thee, I should not have left my hiding-place. But it is already late; seek thy couch and rest well!"
The spirit vanished, and the Countess followed his advice; but troubled dreams sported around the head of the sleeping lady, and fantastic scenes passed before her fancy.
It seemed as if she saw the dwarf from her window go out at the entrance of the tower, large as a giant, striking in the air with his hands all sorts of odd signs and motions, and with a powerful voice she heard him cry: "Slide on! Slide on!"[[2]]
[[2]] "Rücke dich! Rücke dich!"
And hardly were these words out of his mouth when the Haarburg was raised on unseen hands from its foundations high in the air, so high that the Countess was seized with giddiness, and awoke in terror.
As she opened her eyes it was already light; but the sun had not yet risen above the mountains, so she could only have slept a short time, but felt so much strengthened and refreshed that she rose, dressed, and went to the window to enjoy the fresh morning. But who shall describe her amazement when she saw the town of Wernigerode directly beneath, and on closer observation found that the old tower Haarburg had been moved in the night to the mountain where her husband had so earnestly desired to have it.
As soon as her first astonishment had passed, the Countess hastened to her still slumbering husband, led him to the window, and feasted her eyes on his boundless astonishment and joy.
Filled with gratitude, she called the benevolent dwarf, to thank him; but he did not answer the summons, and has never been seen in the new Schloss.