There a beautiful spring, well protected by a statue of the holy Nepomuk, offers refreshment and rest to the tired traveller, and about half a mile further on, the road divides into two, and the left-hand branch leads off into a charming mountain-path, on each side of which lies a magnificent forest of Alpine firs and pines, and after a quarter of an hour’s ascent, one arrives at a rich and thriving farm, which comprises in its possessions an ancient chapel; but with all this it bears a very bad name, and is called the “Unholdenhof” (or monster farm).
It was on this self-same spot that the forester and his son took up their abode, and they became the dread and abomination of the whole surrounding country, for they practised, partly openly and partly in secret, the most manifold iniquities, so that their nature and bearing grew into something demoniacal. As quarrellers very strong, and as enemies dreadfully revengeful, they showed their diabolical nature by the most inhuman deeds, which brought down injury, not only on those against whom their wrath was directed, but also upon their families for centuries. In the heights of the mountains they turned the beds of the torrents, and devastated by this means the most flourishing tracts of land; on other places, the Unholde set on fire whole mountain-forests, to allow free room for the avalanches to rush down and overwhelm the farms. Through certain means they cut holes and fissures in the rocks, in which, during the summer, quantities of water collected, which froze in the winter, and then in the spring the thawing ice split the rocks, which then rolled down into the valleys, destroying everything before them. Some of these terrific rock-falls prepared by them ensued only some forty or fifty years afterwards.
Through these iniquitous deeds, they gained the dreaded name of Unholde, which has descended to their abode to the present day; but at last Heaven’s vengeance reached them. An earthquake threw the forester’s house into ruins, wild mountain torrents tore over it, and thunderbolts set all around it in a blaze; and by fire and water, with which they had sinned, father and son perished, and were condemned to everlasting torments. Up to the present day, they are to be seen at nightfall on the mountain, in the form of two fiery boars.
A better generation has built a new farm upon the same spot on which the old Unholdenhof used to stand; but, against their wish and will, the new house has kept up the old name, which sometimes changes into that of Starkenhof, because the wicked foresters were also called “die Starken” (the strong ones).
The old peasant Hohlenbauer, who still is living in the village of Mutters, can recount to the traveller a great deal about the Unholdenhof; and, among other things, he would tell him how one day the forester, in his stupidity, sold valuable parchments to a child’s-drum maker of Innsbruck, who, as stupid as he of whom he had bought them, erased the writing with a stone, and covered little drums with the priceless documents.
THE FIERY BOAR OF KOHLERSTADL.
On the main road from the village of Mutters to the hamlet of Götzens lies a brown wooden hut in the middle of a lovely flowery plain, which is called the “Broat-Wiese” (broad meadow). The road leads through dells and valleys, and in passing through this grand and desolate spot, the traveller is unable to overcome a certain sense of awe, which overhangs this dreaded spot, particularly should he happen to pass that way after the shades of evening have fallen. The hut is an old hay-shed, which has the resemblance of a large dark coffin; close to this hut stands a little chapel, erected to the memory of a poor traveller, who was frozen to death on that spot, in the year 1815.
This place is decried and avoided, on account of the fearful apparition, which is said to wander round the spot; and many a one who has tried to pass that way during the night has been glad to return safely back again to the village. Close by lies a dense forest of fir-trees, the rendezvous of tribes of ravens, which render the surroundings still more dismal with their ominous croakings. If, perchance, the traveller hears the cuckoo, he crosses himself, for it bears in the Tyrol the reputation of being the devil’s own bird, and the evil one himself, the worst of the phantoms, rejoices in adopting his voice.
There has frequently been seen upon the plain, close by the hut, which is called the Kohlerstadl, a fiery wild boar, and many people are of the opinion that the old monster of the Unholdenhof, of which has been spoken in the preceding legend, wanders about there in that form, while others say that this same fiery boar is a devil’s phantom; and there are numberless people who have seen it.