Legends of Rubezahl, and Other Tales/Legends of Rubezahl/The Fifth Legend

by Johann Karl August Musäus

For other English-language translations of this work, see Legenden von Rübezahl: Fünfte Legende.

 

Legend the Fifth.

A

FTER the time when Lisa was so richly dowered by the Gnome, a long period elapsed without his being again heard of. The gossips, indeed, at their spinning parties, diverted the long winter evenings by relating all sorts of marvellous tales about him, each adding, at fancy, new incidents to her own edition of the story; but mere stories they were, and nothing more, altogether destitute of authority; in a hundred tales, scarcely one particle of truth. The Countess Cecilia, a cotemporary and pupil of Voltaire, was honoured with the last interview which the Gnome has granted to a descendant of Adam in our times, and this was just previous to his setting out on a long visit to the interior of the earth, whence it is impossible to say when he may take it into his head to return. This lady, suffering from disordered nerves and rheumatic gout, was on her way to Carlsbad, accompanied by her two healthy, blooming daughters. The mother was in such a hurry to get to the Baths, for the sake of the cure she hoped from them, and the young ladies were in such a hurry to get to the Baths for the sake of the society, the balls, the serenades, the hundred diversions they anticipated there, that they posted on night and day. It was past sunset when they entered upon the Riesengeberg on a fine warm summer’s evening; there was not a breath of air; the darkening sky was thick set with sparkling stars; the crescent moon, with her silver rays, shed a soft light on the tall mirk firs; while innumerable glow-worms, playing about under the bushes, presented the appearance of a moving illumination. But the travellers paid small attention to this beautiful aspect of nature. Mamma, gently rocked by the carriage as it slowly ascended the mountain, was sound asleep, and her two daughters and their maid, each occupying one of the three other corners of the coach, were in a similar unsentimental condition. John alone, perched on the coach-box, slept not; for why?—All the stories about Rubezahl that he had formerly listened to with so much avidity, recurred in detail to his mind, now that he was in the very scene of their occurrence, and with such effect that he would have given his little finger had he never heard them. He now regretted the garret in which he slept at Breslau; for never ghost or goblin ascended thither. He incessantly cast timid, anxious glances all around him; his eye wandered round and round every point of the compass; and whenever it fell upon any object that appeared at all suspicious his flesh crept, a cold perspiration inundated his forehead, and his hair stood on end. Every now and then he would ask the postillion if the road was safe; and though each time the rough fellow replied, with oaths, that it was as safe as a street in a town, still John was not a bit the easier.

By-and-bye, all of a sudden, the postillion pulled up his horses, muttered something between his teeth, and then went on again; in a minute or two he stopped and muttered something again; then went on a little bit, and once more stopped. This he repeated several times. John, who shut his eyes at the commencement of these proceedings, at last opened them by a desperate effort, and looking forward, almost fell from his seat with fright, when he saw on the road, a stone’s throw in advance of the carriage, a tall, big figure, enveloped in a cloak as black as pitch, surmounted by an enormous Spanish ruff; but the most horrible thing of all was, that Black Cloak had got no head! When the carriage stopped, so did No Head: when the carriage went on, so did he. “O-o-h!” groaned John, his hair standing perfectly upright. “Postillion! do you see that?”—“To be sure I do,” replied the postillion, in a very subdued tone; “there’s no mistake about it; but, silence!”

John sunk down upon the foot-board in a perfect agony of fear. And as in a thunder-storm in the night time, timid people love to get the whole house together, thinking themselves the safer the more there are of it; so John thought he would see whether he could not lessen his own terror by imparting a share of it to his mistresses. Accordingly he knocked, first gently, then loud, at the carriage window. Mamma first awoke; angry at being thus roused from her comfortable sleep, she pettishly cried out, “What’s the matter?”—“Please your Ladyship,” said John, in a voice scarcely audible, “look there! There’s a man without a head walking before the carriage!”—“Idiot,” said the Countess, “what silly stuff hast been dreaming about? For that matter,” added she, “men without heads are no novelty; there are plenty of such at Breslau, and everywhere else: where’s thy head, for instance?”

The daughters, who were now awake, did not feel sufficiently at ease to enjoy the attic salt of the Countess’s pleasantries; full of terror, they pressed close to her side, trembling and sobbing. “Ah! ’tis Rubezahl! ’tis the Spirit of the Mountain!” But Mamma, who believed not in spirits, rebuked the young ladies for their vulgar credulity, and undertook forthwith to prove to them that all ghost stories were the offspring of a disordered imagination; and that there never had been an alleged instance of spectral appearance which was not susceptible of a natural solution. She was getting on swimmingly with her argument, when Black Cloak, who had for a moment withdrawn himself from the watchful eye of John, came out of the thicket into the middle of the road. It was now found that John had, after all, made a mistake; the stranger was by no means without a head; only, instead of wearing it as usual, on his shoulders, he carried it, like a parcel, under his arm. Such an apparition within three yards of the coach was perfectly frightful. The young ladies, and the Abigail, who was in the habit of doing, as nearly as she could, everything they did, screamed with one scream; and then, on the principle of the ostrich, which, when it can run no further, drives its head into the sand, and so, not seeing the hunter, imagines the hunter cannot see him, they pulled down the carriage-blinds; and, no longer seeing Black Cloak, hoped to pass unobserved by him. Mamma clasped her hands in silent fear, and lost sight of all her philosophical disbelief in ghosts and spectres. John, whom Black Mantle appeared to have selected for especial notice, had just, in the anguish of his heart, commenced the exorcism so dreaded by evil spirits: “All good angels”——when, before he could get out another word, the apparition threw his head at him with so true an aim as to knock him off his perch; at the same instant, the postillion was stretched on the ground by a blow from a cudgel, and the phantom exclaimed, in a hollow, sepulchral voice: “Take that from Rubezahl, the Lord of the Mountain, whose domain thou hast dared to trespass upon! As to the rest, vessel, crew, cargo, all are mine; a lawful prize.” The spectre then sprung into the saddle, put the horses to full speed, rattled the carriage over one hill after another, over stock and stone, at such a rate that the noise of the wheels and of the horses entirely drowned the screams of the poor ladies.

Suddenly the party was increased; a horseman rode for a few minutes by the side of the postillion, without seeming to pay any attention to the unusual circumstance of his being without a head; he then rode on in front, as though he were the Countess’s courier. The accession seemed not at all agreeable to Black Cloak, who changed his direction, but the courier did the same; and, turn which way he would, the headless postillion saw his troublesome companion before him. And not a little was his alarm increased on perceiving that the white horse ridden by his persecutor had but three legs, with which, however, it went through all its paces in the best style. Black Cloak began to be exceedingly ill at ease on his usurped saddle, in the conviction that the real Rubezahl was about to make him pay dearly for having dared to usurp his name.

After a little time the cavalier, suddenly backing his horse, brought himself alongside Black Cloak. “Whither away so fast, friend?”—“Whither?” replied the other, with a wretched attempt to seem as though he was not at all afraid; “where dost think? After my nose.”—“Oh! indeed!” returned the horseman: “let’s see, then, where thy nose is, comrade.” So saying, he stopped the horses, seized Black Cloak round the waist, and dashed him to the ground with such force that all his limbs quivered again; for this spectre, it now appeared, had flesh and bones. The horseman then alighted, and tearing open the black cloak and the great ruff, there issued from out them a stout, curly-headed young man.

The knave, finding himself detected, dreading a second time to feel the weight of the cavalier’s arm, and convinced that he had now the real Rubezahl to deal with, surrendered at discretion, and entreated pitifully to have his life spared. “High and potent Lord of the Mountain!” cried he, “have mercy on a poor unfortunate fellow whom Fate has been cruelly kicking about from his infancy; who has never been permitted to be what he wished to be; never been suffered to do what he wished to do; never allowed to play out the part he had studied with the greatest care; and who, now that his existence among human kind is annihilated, cannot even be a spirit for once and away.”

This lamentable ditty had its effect. The Gnome was, indeed, greatly exasperated against the fellow for daring to assume his name and attributes, and had fully intended, after the example of the magistracy of Hirschberg, to have inflicted summary justice on the offender; but his curiosity got the better, for a time, of his indignation, and he postponed the fellow’s punishment until after he had heard his story.

“To your saddle, sir,” said he, “and await my orders.” He then turned to his own horse, and drawing out from under its ribs the leg which was wanting, rendered it a perfect animal. He next opened the door of the carriage, for the purpose of paying his respects to the travellers; but all within was still as death: excess of fear had so acted on the ladies, that all the vital spirits had retreated from the outworks of sensation to the chamber of the heart. Every living soul in the carriage seemed dead. The cavalier, who seemed to know exactly what to do, threw open both doors of the coach to let in the air, and then flying off to a spring near at hand, filled his hat with water, which he sprinkled liberally on the faces of the ladies, and taking out a large smelling-bottle, refreshed their nostrils with its powerful contents, and at last brought them back to life. One after another they opened their eyes, and found, anxiously attending upon them, a well-shaped, gentlemanly-looking man, whose considerate kindness evidently merited their confidence. “I am much distressed, ladies,” said he, “that you should have been insulted in my domains by a fellow who, doubtless, intended to have robbed you; but you are now quite safe. I am Lord Giantdale, and, with your permission, will conduct you to my castle, which is at no great distance.” This invitation was most welcome to the Countess, who joyfully accepted it. The postillion was ordered to drive on, and he obeyed without reply, for he was horribly afraid. In order to leave the ladies at leisure to recover from their alarm, his Lordship went forward, and resumed his place by the side of the postillion, to whom he indicated the road he was to go, now to the right, now to the left; and the latter remarked, with increased agitation, that from time to time the Cavalier called to him one or other of the many bats that were flying about, and gave it some private message, which Flittermouse at once hastened to convey to its destination, wherever that might be.

In less than an hour a light became visible in the distance, and immediately after, two, and then four; these proceeded from torches borne by huntsmen, who, riding up at a gallop, expressed much joy at having found their master, whom, they said, they had been anxiously seeking. The Countess was now quite at ease, and finding herself out of danger, bethought herself of worthy John, and expressed to her new friend the uneasiness she felt on the poor fellow’s account. His Lordship immediately detached two of his huntsmen to look for the unfortunates who were missing, with orders to afford them all needful assistance. In a few minutes after, the carriage rolled under a large gateway into a spacious court-yard, and drew up before the portals of a magnificent palace, which was all lighted up. Its noble proprietor having assisted the ladies to alight, conducted them through several superb ante-rooms to a grand saloon, where they found a numerous company assembled. The young ladies were not a little disconcerted to find themselves introduced to so brilliant a circle in their travelling clothes, without having had an opportunity to make their toilet.

The preliminary civilities having been gone through, the company dispersed in various groups; some sat down to cards, others danced, others engaged in conversation. There was a great deal of talk, of course, about the recent adventure, and as is usually the case with narrations of dangers passed, Mamma’s history of the affair became quite an epic, in which she was well disposed to have figured as the heroine, and might have succeeded, but that she inadvertently let slip the incident of my lord’s applying the smelling-bottle. The evening had not far advanced when the attentive host introduced to the Countess a new arrival, who came extremely à propos, being no other than his lordship’s physician; who forthwith proceeded to make the most earnest inquiries as to the health of the Countess and that of her fair daughters; having felt the pulse of each lady twice over, he pulled a very long face, and shook his head, in a manner to indicate that there was something wrong. Now, although the Countess’s health was not a bit worse than usual, the doctor’s grimaces made her fear for her life. In spite of all her infirmities, she felt for her wretched, feeble frame all the attachment we have for a threadbare coat, which we are reluctant to part with because we have so long worn it; and accordingly, under the doctor’s direction, she swallowed an immense sedative-febrifuge powder, and a draught; and the young ladies, though as hearty as hunters, were compelled to follow the example of their anxious Mamma. The more you give way to physicians the more you may. Finding the powders and draughts go down so well, Master Doctor insisted upon bleeding them all three in the foot, as an infallible remedy against the consequences of fear. The Countess readily consented; as to the young ladies, it required all the maternal authority to overcome their objections, but at last they yielded; nor was the blood-thirsty Doctor satisfied until he had breathed a vein also in the pretty foot of the lady’s maid. So there they all four sat, with their bleeding extremities in foot-baths, Mama full of fear, the rest full of fury, until it pleased their tormentor to say, hold, enough!

These operations being concluded, the ladies, though considerably weakened, were handed down to the great dining-room, where a splendid supper was served up. The sideboard groaned under the weight of gold and silver plate, of the most magnificent and exquisite description. An admirable band in an adjoining apartment, gave, by its sweet sounds, double zest to the banquet. On the removal of the cloth, a most comprehensive and elegant dessert was tastefully arranged on the table. In the centre, on hills, mountains, valleys, and rocks in marchpane, encrusted with sugar of a thousand colours, the ingenious confectioner, anxious to please the eye as well as the palate, had, by means of small wax figures, represented the whole adventure on the mountain. The Countess, who had hitherto been looking on in silent amazement, could now no longer contain herself. She turned to her next neighbour, a gentleman bedecked with all sorts of orders, who had been introduced to her as Count somebody, a Bohemian Grandee, and asked him what gala-day this was, that such a magnificent banquet should have been prepared. The Count replied that there was nothing more than usual; a mere little supper to a few friends who had dropped in. The Countess was astonished that, neither in Breslau, nor elsewhere, had she ever heard of a man so opulent and hospitable as Lord Giantdale. Nor, ransack as she might the genealogical trees of all the noble families her memory was stored with, could she recal any mention of such a name.

She indirectly endeavoured to obtain from her host himself the information she so much desired; but he evaded all her attempts with such consummate address that she could not accomplish her object. She therefore gave up the point, and turned the conversation to the airy subject of the world of spirits, and when this theme is once started in company, there are never wanting talkers to support it, nor listeners with eyes and mouths wide open.

A well-fed canon related a number of marvellous stories about Rubezahl, and a great deal was said for and against the truth of these narratives. The Countess, who was quite in her element whenever she could assume a doctoral tone, did not fail to put herself at the head of the philosophical party, and was very great on the subject of vulgar superstitions and prejudices; she was especially severe upon a counsellor of finance, who, paralysed in all his limbs, but still retaining a complete command of his tongue, supported Rubezahl’s claims. “My own adventure,” said the Countess, with all the tone of settling the question, “is a clear proof that what we hear of the Spirit of the Mountain is pure fable. Were he sovereign of these parts, were he endowed with the noble qualities which folly so liberally bestows on him, he would never have allowed with impunity his name to be dishonoured by the ragamuffin who attacked us this evening. Oh! no; depend upon it, this same Spirit is a nonentity, not half so real as the fellow who called himself Rubezahl in order to frighten us, and who, but for the generous aid of Lord Giantdale, would, no doubt, have had everything his own way.”

The lord of the mansion, though he sat by, had hitherto taken no part in the philosophical discussion going on; he now blandly addressed himself to the Countess: “Your Ladyship has completely depopulated the world of spirits. Before your enlightened views, all these creations of the dreaming fancy have disappeared, as a morning mist before the rising sun. You have satisfactorily demonstrated that the notion about this ancient inhabitant of the mountains is an entire fallacy, and his champion, our friend the Finance-Counsellor, is effectually silenced. Yet it appears to me that some objections might still be urged against your reasoning. How if, after all, it was the, as you say, fabulous Spirit of the Mountain himself who was the author of your deliverance from the masquerading robber? How if it had been my neighbour’s whim to assume my features and form, and under that guise to place you here in safety? How if I assured you that I myself have never quitted for a moment the company who are now honouring me with their presence? How if it should turn out that you were brought hither by a stranger, who himself slipped away, and left me, the true Lord Giantdale, to receive you with a hearty welcome in his place? In this way my neighbour would have avenged his offended honour, and would not be the nonentity you suppose him.”

This sally somewhat disconcerted the Countess, while the young ladies laid down their forks in astonishment, and looked earnestly at his Lordship, endeavouring to read in his countenance whether he were in jest or earnest. The solution of this problem was interrupted by the arrival of John and the postillion, who had been brought back by the horsemen sent in search of them. The postillion was delighted to find his four horses in the castle stables; while John had like to have died with joy when, on entering the banquet room, he found his mistresses seated at table. He bore in triumph the corpus delicti, the gigantic head, which, hurled by the hand of Black Mantle, had levelled him with the earth. This was put into the hands of the physician, for him to examine, and give in his official visum repertum thereupon; and that learned personage, without finding it necessary to have recourse to any anatomical investigation, at once reported the subject to be nothing but a large pumpkin filled with sand and stones, and which, having eyes and a mouth cut in it, with the addition of a wooden nose and a long tow beard, had somewhat the appearance of a grotesque human head.

When the party rose from table and broke up, daylight was already beginning to appear. The ladies found in their apartments sumptuous beds, in which sleep so instantaneously overpowered them that their fancy had no opportunity of recalling their thoughts to the alarms of the preceding night. The sun was high when the Countess, awaking, rung for her attendant, and ordered her to call the young ladies, who were much more disposed to turn on their down pillows and sleep on the other ear, than to rise. But so impatient was the Countess to prove the virtues of the waters of Carlsbad, that the most pressing entreaties of their hospitable entertainer could not prevail with her for even one day’s delay, though the girls, exceedingly desirous of dancing at the ball he promised them for the evening, added their earnest solicitations to his. Soon after breakfast was over the ladies took their departure, and his Lordship attended them on horseback to the boundaries of his domain, where mama and daughters, deeply sensible of the generous reception they had experienced, took a most kind leave of him, and promised to make some stay with him on their return from Carlsbad.

No sooner had the Gnome returned to his castle than Curly Head, who had passed the night in a damp cellar in a most fearful state of anxiety, was brought before him. “Miserable reptile,” said the Spirit, “I know not what keeps me from crushing thee under foot, for having dared to enact a farce so offensive to me in my territories.”—“High and mighty Sovereign of the Giant Mountains,” replied the crafty knave, “I question not your rights of sovereignty; but before you pronounce my doom, deign to inform me where those laws are written, with the violation of which you charge me.” The boldness of this turn led Rubezahl to suspect that he had no common man, but rather a singular original, to deal with. He therefore moderated his anger, and said: “Nature has legibly written my laws in the heart of man; but that thou mayest not accuse me of condemning thee unheard, speak: say frankly who thou art, and what could have tempted thee to play thy tricks in such a guise in my dominions?”

The prisoner was delighted to have obtained permission to speak, trusting as he did that a candid narration of the events of his life would appease the Gnome’s anger, at least so far as to lead to a mitigation of the chastisement he might have to endure. “I formerly,” he commenced, “lived poorly enough, on the fruits of my own labour, in the town of Lauban, where I followed the occupation of a purse maker; they called me poor Kunz, and well they might, for I found honest industry to be an altogether unprofitable business. Although my purses found a good sale, there being a notion current that money did well in them, seeing that I, the maker, was a seventh son, and must therefore have a lucky hand, I experienced no such luck in my own case, for my purse was always as empty as the stomach of a rigid Catholic on a fast day. I would here remark that if my customers really preserved their money so well in purses of my manufacture, this, in my opinion, was in no degree owing to the lucky hand of the maker, nor to the especial goodness of the work, but to the material of which they were made; they were of leather. Your Lordship must know that a purse of leather always preserves and improves money better than one of silk netting; for he who is content with the former is rarely a spendthrift, but one who, as the saying is, draws his purse-strings tight. Open-work silk and gold purses, on the contrary, are, for the most part, in the hands of rich and reckless men; is it to be wondered at that the money runs out in all directions, as from a sieve; and that, however frequently replenished, they are ever empty?

“My father had strongly inculcated this maxim upon his seven sons: ‘Whatever you do, my children, do it in earnest.’ I accordingly applied to my business indefatigably, but my condition got none the better. Then war and scarcity came upon the land, and we were inundated with base coin. My fellow tradesmen said: “Light money, light wares;’ but I said: ‘Honesty is the best policy,’ and continued to give good purses for bad money; the result of course was, that I was beggared, thrown into gaol, kicked out of my guild by my fellow freemen as a discredit to their mystery; and when my creditors got tired of keeping me in prison, was most handsomely set at liberty, with orders, however, to quit the territory within twelve hours, and not to return on pain of death. When advanced some way on my enforced journey, I knew not, cared not whither, I met one of my former customers, mounted on a very handsome horse. When he saw me he burst out into a scornful laugh: ‘Bungler!’ cried he, ‘stupid ragamuffin! ’tis clear thou dost not know thy business; thou can’st make purses, but not fill them; make pots, and cook nothing in them; thou hast leather, but can’st not gild it.’—‘Hold!’ said I to the scoffing gentleman; ‘thou art thyself a bad shot; thy arrows fly wide of the mark. There are many things in this world which of right should go together, but which we nevertheless find far enough asunder. One man has a stable, and no horse to put in it; another has a barn, and no corn to thresh in it; a pantry, and no victuals; a cellar, and no wine; and finally, as the proverb has it, one man has the purse, and another the money.’—‘’Tis better to have both,’ rejoined he; ‘and if thou art willing to put thyself under my tuition, I will make thee a consummate master of thy business. Thou already knowest how to make purses: I will teach thee how to fill them; for my trade is that of a maker of money. As, then, thy trade and mine go hand in hand, art thou willing that we, too, should go hand in hand, and make a common business of it?’—‘With all my heart,’ said I, ‘if you are an authorized master of the mint anywhere; but if you work on your own private account, ’tis a business that smacks too strongly of the gallows for my taste.’—‘Nothing venture, nothing have,’ returned he; ‘if you won’t eat of my dish, let it alone. We must all die once; and some day, if we would not die of hunger, must run the risk of a jump from the tree.’—‘There is this small difference,’ replied I, ‘that in the one case we die like honest men, in the other as felons.’—‘Vulgar prejudice,’ said he; ‘all I do is to add a little to the circulating medium; somewhat irregularly, perhaps, but my betters have done so before me, ever since there were governments and a coinage.’ To be brief, the tempter was so persuasive, that I consented to what he proposed. I was very soon proficient in my new pursuit, having attended therein to the lessons of my father, and applied myself to it in earnest; and I very soon discovered that coin-making was infinitely more profitable and pleasant than purse-making. But everything has an end; the superiority of our fabric excited the jealousy of other coiners, at a time when our manufactory was in a most flourishing and prosperous condition. We were betrayed; and the truly insignificant circumstance of our not having worked under a patent preposterously occasioned our being sent by the prejudiced and narrow-minded judges to work for life on the fortifications. In this situation I spent several years, in sore tribulation; until there came to that part of the kingdom a good angel, with full powers to free from durance vile all such prisoners as had stout limbs and sinews. In other words, a special recruiting officer changed my destination; instead of trundling a wheelbarrow in the public service, it became my nobler duty, as a member of a free corps, to fight in the public cause. I was well pleased with this change. Determined to be a soldier in earnest, I put myself forward on all occasions; I was the first in every attack; and when we were compelled to retreat, I used my legs to such good purpose that the enemy could never overtake me. For a time I got on very well; I received a command in a troop of horse, with hope of still further promotion; but one day, being sent out upon a foraging expedition, I executed my orders with so much enthusiasm that I not only emptied granaries and barns, but, moreover, every drawer, press, strong box, or bureau I could lay my hands on, whether in houses or churches. As ill luck would have it, we were in a friendly country; the people took it into their stupid heads to make a to-do about the affair, and certain officers, who envied my military reputation, odiously charged me with pillaging. I was most unjustly brought to a court-martial, degraded to the ranks, and then whipped through a lane of five hundred men out of a service in which I had thought to make my fortune. I had now no other resource than to return to my original business; but I had neither money to buy leather nor the disposition to work. An idea suddenly occurred to me. I have mentioned that I had formerly sold my purses far too cheap. In justice to myself, now that I wanted the means of support, it was obvious that I ought by all means to recover the property I had so foolishly lavished; that I was fully entitled to resume all such purses of my manufacture as should come within my reach. True, ’twas so long ago, that many, nay, most of them, would be worn out; but this was no reason why I should be a loser; as they were worn out I must take those which had been bought to replace them. One must indemnify oneself in such cases as best one may. I accordingly examined every purse that I could fish out of people’s pockets: some were clearly my manufacture, or at all events, unmistakeably, purses which had been purchased in their place. These I declared a lawful prize. Others I was not quite so certain about; but ere I could settle the point satisfactorily to my mind, the owner was out of sight, and I could not go running about after people all over the town. By this means I had also the satisfaction of re-entering into possession of a considerable portion of that money which, as I had coined it, was undeniably my own, and which, though it had been regularly proclaimed, was still so highly thought of as to continue in active circulation. This sort of thing went on successfully for some time, and was pleasant enough. I went about to all the fairs and festivals, disguised, sometimes as a gentleman, sometimes as a Jew pedler, sometimes as this, sometimes as that; and my hand became so expert by degrees, that I had every prospect of getting back at least a great deal of my long-withheld property. However, until I had done myself full justice, I liked this life so well that I resolved to continue it; but such is the fatality by which I am persecuted that I can never long continue to pursue that calling which best suits my abilities. Being in professional attendance at the fair of Liegnitz, I detected a farmer in possession of what was, I had not the smallest doubt, one of my purses, and which the dishonest fellow had managed to cram full of gold. I attempted to assert my rights of ownership, but failed, the weight being too great for my fingers. Being observed, I was seized with brutal violence, and dragged before the magistrates as a cut-purse, though I by no means deserved this invidious appellation. I had, indeed, taken possession of many purses, but never cut purses from honest people, as I was now most unjustly accused of having done; all the purses I had appropriated having, as it were, spontaneously placed themselves in my hand, as if, by a sort of instinct, they were desirous of returning to their original owner. But this argument availed me nothing with the court; I was put in prison, and condemned not only thus a second time to be deprived of the means of earning my livelihood, but a second time to be cruelly flogged. But the latter injustice I saved myself from, by seizing an opportunity which presented itself, and withdrawing from the gaol. I was now free, ’twas true; but then came the question, how on earth was I to avoid actual starvation? In this emergency I actually had recourse to begging; but it was a failure. The only people who took any notice of me were the police at Glogau, who, though I did not address them, insisted upon supplying me with food, and lodging, and occupation; but, resenting their impertinence, I got rid of these fellows, though with no small trouble, for they actually followed me for several miles; they could not have been aware that I have ever, on principle, refrained from calling upon the police in any way, knowing how engaged they must be with their public duties. In future I avoided the towns, and rambled over the rural districts like a genuine cosmopolite. As chance would have it, the Countess stopped in the village where I had established my temporary quarters, to have her carriage repaired: mingling in the crowd which forthwith collected to stare at the stranger ladies, I made acquaintance with the oaf of a servant, who told me, in the simplicity of his heart, that he was horribly afraid of you, my Lord Rubezahl; and that this halt for repairs necessitating their crossing the mountains during the night, was a source of the most painful anxiety. This put it into my head to devise how I might turn the timidity of these travellers to advantage. Determined to play upon their fear of spirits, I immediately went to the house of the sexton, whom I had got acquainted with, and not finding him at home, took possession of his official black cloak and ruff, with a pumpkin I found lying in the press. Furnished with these articles, and a stout cudgel, I betook myself to the wood, and there prepared my costume. You know, my Lord, what use I made of it; and there can be no question that, without your interference, I should have been completely successful in this master-stroke of mine; indeed, the game was already won. After having got rid of the two poltroons, I intended to penetrate as deep into the wood as I could, and then, doing the ladies no personal injury, to effect a little exchange, my black cloak, now no longer of use to me, for their cash and jewels; and then, having wished them a good journey, and recommending myself to their favourable remembrance, to make the best of my way off.

“As to yourself, my Lord, I must confess I had not the slightest idea of your coming to spoil my sport. The world is now so frightfully incredulous that your name no longer serves to frighten even children; and were it not that some ninny like the Countess’s servant, or some old wife at her wheel, every now and then revives your name, we should long since have forgotten even that. I thought that anybody might be Rubezahl that liked: I have now found out my mistake. I am quite at your mercy; and I hope that the sincerity of my confessions may disarm your anger. Nay, with what perfect ease to yourself might you have the satisfaction of making an honest man of me; ’twould be nothing to you to give me a handful of dollars out of the copper, or to treat me as you did the hungry traveller who, having gathered a score or two of sloes from your hedge, broke one tooth, indeed, with the first, but was indemnified for his loss by finding all the rest of the fruit turned into gold; or suppose it were your good pleasure to give me one of the eight golden nine-pins you have still left (you gave the ninth to a student of Prague who had been playing with you); or the little pitcher, the milk from which becomes gold cheese; or, being as I am a guilty wretch, suppose you were to beat me with such a gold rod as served you once upon a time to castigate the travelling shoemaker, and then let me, as you did him, carry away the instrument of my punishment as a memorial. In any of these ways my fortune would be made. Indeed, my Lord, if you will reflect upon the wants we poor mortals are subject to, you must admit it is very difficult to act with strict integrity when one is in want of everything, and can get nothing by honest industry. The proverb says: ‘Necessity has no law.’”

“Get thee gone, rascal,” cried the Gnome, giving him a hearty kick; “get thee gone, as fast as thy legs will carry thee, to the gallows, the true summit of thy fortunes.” Worthy Kunz, delighted to escape so cheaply, which he ascribed entirely to his own powers of rhetoric, was in such haste to get out of the presence of his Lordship, that he left his black mantle behind him. He soon lost sight of the castle in which he had been imprisoned, but after that, he did not appear to make any advance; walk on as fast and sturdily as he might, he still saw the same mountains, the same valleys, the same objects. Fatigued by this endless movement without progress, he lay down under a tree to take a little rest, and to wait for some passing traveller to tell him the way; he soon fell fast asleep; when he awoke he found himself in total darkness. He very distinctly remembered that it was under a tree he had fallen asleep; yet he heard not the slightest rustling of leaves, nor could he discern one star through the branches. In his alarm he would have arisen, but he felt himself restrained by an unseen power, the effort he made being attended by a loud noise, like the rattling of chains. Finding that he was in irons, he imagined himself in some dungeon of Rubezahl, a hundred leagues below the surface of the earth, and was hereupon overcome by horrible fear.

After some hours day began to appear; but the light penetrated very dimly through the grating of a small window in a thick wall. Without being positively certain about the matter, he seemed to have some recollection of the place; he impatiently awaited a visit from the gaoler, but some hours elapsed, and no one came near him. Hunger and thirst beginning to torment him, he set to work making all the noise he could, shaking his chains, dashing them against the walls, and shouting with all his might. He heard human voices outside, but no one for a long time dared to come in; at last the gaoler, having said the usual prayer for driving away evil spirits, threw open the door, and brandishing a great cross, slowly advanced, reciting the office for exorcising the devil, deeming that it could be no other that was making all this racket in the prison; but on taking a nearer view of the apparition, he recognized his former prisoner, the cut-purse; and Kunz, on his part, beheld the gaoler of Liegnitz. He now perceived that Rubezahl had remanded him to the place whence he came. “Thou here?” exclaimed the gaoler, almost as much afraid of his mysterious prisoner as of the personage he had expected to find; “how got’st thou entrance?”—“By the door,” replied Kunz, coolly. “Weary of rambling about the world, I am desirous of leading a quiet life, and, as thou see’st, have returned to my old quarters, where, by your leave, I propose to remain.” No one could comprehend by what means the prisoner had returned to his dungeon, or got into his irons. Kunz, who wished to throw a veil over his last exploit, boldly affirmed that he was there by virtue of a power he possessed of passing at pleasure through locked doors and barred gates, and of putting off or on his irons just as he pleased. “For me,” said he, “there are neither bolts nor locks.” Touched with his apparent tractability, the magistracy commuted his punishment, only requesting him to trundle a wheelbarrow for the service of the King till he should think proper to slip off his irons, when he might go for good and all: but we have never heard that he took advantage of this obliging permission.

The Countess meantime, with her family, arrived safely and comfortably at Carlsbad. Scarcely had she alighted when she sent for the principal physician, to consult him as to her health, and the best mode of using the waters. In a quarter of an hour, there accordingly presented himself the celebrated Doctor Springsfeld, of Merseburg, who would scarcely have exchanged the golden waters of Carlsbad for those of Pactolus. “Welcome, dear Doctor,” cried mother and daughters, cordially. “You have preceded us, then,” said Mama? “We thought you were still with Lord Giantdale; but why, naughty man, did you conceal from us that you were the Bath physician?” “Oh, Doctor,” cried Hedwig, “you pierced my vein through and through; my foot hurts me so, instead of waltzing, I shall hardly be able to limp about a little.” The physician was perfectly confounded: in vain did he scrutinize the faces of all three ladies; he could not remember to have ever before seen them. “Your Ladyship,” said he, at length, “doubtless must take me for somebody else, for I am not aware that I had ever the honour of meeting you till this hour. I do not know Lord Giantdale; I never quit Carlsbad during the season.”

The Countess, at a loss to understand this preposterous incognito of the Doctor’s, at last began to imagine that, contrary to the custom of his colleagues, he wished to decline any remuneration for the skill and care they had already experienced at his hands. Under this impression, she said: “I understand you, my dear Doctor, but you carry your delicacy too far; nothing shall prevent my acknowledging myself your debtor, and proving my grateful sense of the assistance you have already afforded me;” and therewith she forced a rich gold snuff-box upon the Doctor, who, accepting it as a payment in advance, and reluctant to offend so promising a patient, quietly put it in his pocket. He now judged the whole family to be suffering under one of those nervous disorders, which produce such extraordinary effects upon the imagination, and under this impression ordered them gentle aperients.

Doctor Springsfeld was not one of those physicians who know nothing beyond pills and potions; he was a man who could render himself agreeable to his patients, by no end of stories and anecdotes, professional, political, historical, and miscellaneous, which contributed, in a great degree, to keep up their spirits, and make him popular. On quitting the Countess and proceeding to his usual round, he entertained every one he visited with an account of his singular interview with the new-comers, adding divers embellishments, which tended to make out the whole party to be a set of most eccentric, nay, absurd personages. Everybody became anxious to see them, and the Countess, in particular, became the topic of the day at Carlsbad.

When she appeared with her amiable daughters, for the first time at the rooms, the whole company at the Baths were assembled to meet them. How great was the amazement of mother and daughters, on entering the rooms, to find themselves in the same party with whom they had spent the evening in the castle of Lord Giantdale. The Count with all his ribands and orders, the portly Canon, the paralytic Counsellor of Finance, were all there; how delightful! they would thus escape the tedium of a ceremonious introduction to strangers. Not one person in the room but was already known to them. The Countess conversed, now with one, now with another, in an easy and familiar tone, addressing each by his or her name; constantly referring to the conversation she had had with them at the hospitable board of Lord Giantdale; and not a little surprised to find the whole party, both ladies and gentlemen, who were before so kind and friendly, now so mysteriously, so unintelligibly cold and distant. She at last began to think that this was a concerted plan, and that Lord Giantdale would presently put an end to the mystification by himself appearing. Actuated by this idea, and not willing to allow his Lordship the triumph of having deceived her penetration, she said to the Counsellor of Finance, with a smile: Come, Counsellor, put your legs in motion, and start Lord Giantdale from his hiding place.”

It was a clear case; this last touch proved beyond a doubt that the imagination of the Countess was sadly disordered, and everybody was sorry for a person who appeared so rational, so intelligent, except where the Giant Mountains were concerned, The Countess, on her part, guessing from the signs, nods, looks, and motions, interchanged around her, that it was suspected the disease of her limbs had taken possession of her brain, thought she could not better remove this impression than by a full narrative of the adventure that had befallen her on the mountains. She was listened to with that sort of attention usually paid to a story, for the moment amusing enough, but of which no one believes a single word. All with one voice agreed that “’twas strange, ’twas passing strange,” at the same time significantly turning their eyes towards Doctor Springsfeld, who silently replied by an emphatic shrug of his shoulders, and made up his mind not to relinquish his patient before the waters of Carlsbad had entirely washed this adventure of the Giant Mountains out of her imagination. And ere long the Doctor thought the waters had produced this effect; the truth being, that the Countess, perceiving that her story only led to a belief that her head was turned, ceased to speak of it; the waters, however, had the practical result of restoring the Countess to perfect health. This object being attained, and the young ladies having waltzed and flirted to their heart’s content, the family set out on their return to Breslau. They failed not to go by way of the Giant Mountains, in order to pay their promised visit to Lord Giantdale. Mama confidently expecting that their noble host would explain the reason why the party whom they had met at his castle, had affected not to recognise them at Carlsbad. But no person in the mountains knew the road to his Lordship’s castle, or had even heard of his name. And the lady was eventually convinced, that the Lord Giantdale, who had so kindly rescued and received her, was, in reality, no other than the Spirit Lord of the Giant Mountains. She owned that he had dealt most nobly by her, and, from that hour, believed firmly in spirits, though the fear of ridicule prevented her from making her belief public.

Since this adventure of the Countess Cecilia, Rubezahl has not been seen or heard of. On taking leave of the Countess, he proceeded to his underground domain. Very soon after this, burst forth the tremendous subterranean fire which destroyed first Lisbon, afterwards Guatemala, and which has since broken out in other places. And so much have the gnomes had to do, in their efforts to arrest the torrents of fire which are overflowing their underground channels in all directions, that not one has had time to come up to the surface of the earth.

 

End of the Legends of Rubezahl.