Foreign Tales and Traditions/Volume 1/Legends of Rubezahl/The Spring-Root

by Henrik Steffens

For other English-language translations of this work, see Mährchen und Sagen aus dem Riesengebirge: 1.

No. III THE SPRING-ROOT.

Rubezahl has his own vegetable garden in the mountain; it is shown upon the declivity of the Aupengrund. The mountain is rich in excellent herbs which have been used from very ancient times in the preparation of costly essences. Even at this day the inhabitants of Krummhubel gain their livelihood by the preparation of essences from the herbs which grow in these parts,—an art they may probably have derived from the students of Prague, who attended the once celebrated school of Paracelsus, and who were driven away by the war of the Hussites. Among these herbs there is one which has become peculiarly celebrated in legendary lore; it is called the spring-root, and is found only in Rubezahl’s garden. This root is of the most costly species, and possesses virtue to heal the most obstinate and inveterate diseases. But Rubezahl allows none but his particular favourites to gather it.

A lady of high birth once lay dangerously ill at Leignitz, and promised a peasant a great reward if he could procure her the spring-root from Rubezahl’s garden. Allured by her tempting promises he undertook the task. When he reached the lonely desert country where the garden lies, he seized his spade, and began to dig up the root, which was not unknown to him. Whilst he was yet stooping at his labour, the wind arose in loud surly blasts, and he heard some rough words, which he did not understand; but raising his head, he perceived upon the extreme edge of a projecting cliff, a tall gigantic form, with a long beard, which descended over his breast, and a large crooked nose which horribly disfigured his countenance. “What are you doing there?” screamed the figure in a rough voice scarcely distinguishable from the howling of the storm. The peasant, though a very bold man, was overcome by the terror which now seized him, and replied: “I am seeking the spring-root for a sick lady who has promised to pay me well for it.”—“What you have got you may keep; but dare not to return again!” screamed the figure, and brandishing his club with threatening gestures he vanished.

The peasant went down from the mountain lost in deep thought, and the lady at Leignitz considered herself extremely fortunate in getting possession of the healing root to soothe her pains. Her illness visibly diminished, and as she could only expect her complete recovery from the continued use of the root, she desired that the peasant might be again brought into her presence: “Would you venture once more to fetch me the spring-root?” inquired the lady. “My good lady,” answered the peasant, “the first time I went the lord of the mountain appeared to me in a fearful form, and threatened me so seriously that I dare not venture a second time.” But the lady conquered his fears by liberal promises; she agreed to give him a much larger sum than the first, and the peasant no longer able to resist, ventured once again to take a solitary journey into the most secret recesses of the mountain.

As soon as he began to dig the root, there arose a fearful storm in the same quarter as before, and, when he looked towards it, he beheld the same figure in a still more threatening posture. His long hair and wide mantle seemed to stream on the wind towards him, and fire shone in his eyes, while the frightful voice again screamed: “What are you doing here?” till the words were re-echoed from the barren rocks, and seemed to be shouted with redoubled violence from the profound abyss. When the peasant again answered, “I seek the spring-root; a sick lady will pay me very well for it,” the wrathful spirit spake thus: “Have I not warned you, you madman? And you dare to come once more? But you have it already; so save yourself if you can!” The fire of his gleaming eyes seemed to scorch the countenance of the bewildered peasant, while the mighty club, which the demon held, came whistling through the air, and sunk quite close beside him, deep into the solid rock. At last the peasant recovered his recollection, and hastened towards Leignitz, where the lady gave him so great a sum that he forgot all his misfortunes, and joyfully returned home. Some time had elapsed, and the lady seemed almost well; but still she had not thoroughly recovered. “If I could get the spring-root a third time I feel I would be quite well,” said she. So she sent again to the peasant, who at first refused to go to her, but an evil spirit tempted him to his destruction. “Here I am again, lady,” said the peasant; “what do you wish of me? I hope it is not to go again for the spring-root. Heaven preserve me from that! The last time I scarcely escaped with my life. I still shudder when I think of it.” Hereupon the lady promised him a whole rich farm and a great deal of money with it, and so dazzled the rash man’s imagination that he forgot all danger, and promised a third time to steal the spring-root from the enchanted garden, though it should cost his life. “Up to this moment,” said the peasant, the spirit has only threatened me; and this shall be the last time, for I will soon be a rich man, and will spend all the rest of my life in glory and joy.”

The peasant dared not go alone this time to the mountain. “Dear boy,” said he to his eldest son, who was now grown up, “I am going to the chapel upon the mountain; you shall accompany me.” So they went together, till the ravines became more and more narrow, and the mountain more and more barren; and as they went along the dark lakes eternally overshadowed by the steep rocks, the father became thoughtful, and horror pierced his inmost soul. His eyes gleamed so wildly that his son too was seized with a cold shuddering. “What ails you, father?” said the boy. But he did not answer him, and gazed in silence on the ground. Thus they ascended higher and higher, and when they drew near the garden the father spake: “Evil spirits have beguiled me from my earliest childhood; I have cared only for riches, and have remained a stranger to the fear of God and to religion. I have led a wild and worthless life, and never gave you the good example a father ought to set before his children. Now Hell calls me, and I must purloin the spring-root from the lord of the mountain, for which he will tear me to pieces.” At this the son wept, and said: “Father, leave it; turn back with me; Heaven is merciful.” But, with the energy of despair, the father had already seized the spade and begun his work. There arose a fearful hurricane,—a water-spout rushed down and flooded all the brooks into wild torrents,—a moaning, heart-wringing sound seemed to rise up from the roots of the garden,—all the elements mingled wildly with one another,—yawning cliffs opened, and from above a large figure, itself like a mountain, descended with a gigantic club, seized the peasant, and flew up with him to the height. Then a large rock fell down in a thousand pieces. The son heard the moaning of his father, farther and still farther in the distance, and for a long time lay in deep stupor. At last the hurricane ceased to war, the sky cleared up, and the boy, struck with terror, sought the chapel to recommend himself to God. At the same hour the lady at Liegnitz died.

 

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