Tuesday, April 19, 2011

A Fairy Vision and an Easter Vision: the Castle of High Regard (Hohe Acht)


(Click on picture to enlarge.)

In this fairy tale for Easter: the blasphemy of harp playing, the incredible power of the first blossoms of spring, and a fairy vision. 

From the village of Kesseling you can take the road near Weidenbach and travel toward Kaltenborn. About three hours past the Aare River you arrive at the Castle of High Regard. This fortress belonged to one of the knights of Kaltenborn. Later in life this knight had to relinquish the fort to the Archbishop of Cologne,  only to seize the property back from this powerful cleric when it became a well-fortified and protected fief. In the last century the ruins of the old castle finally vanished when the last of its owners abandoned it once and for all. These owners lived in Cologne but were not of the Hoacht lineage and did not bear the name. 

In ancient times a wild and dissipated robber-baron lived at Hoacht. On the Eve before Easter he and his knights profaned the holy feast with vile dancing, harp music and gluttony. Suddenly the heavens blackened and the sound of their raucous boozing was interrupted with a loud roar. From black clouds came bolts of lightning and thunder could be heard louder and louder. All of the revelers whitened in fear and froze in terror. A lightning bolt hit the chamber and soon flames burst through the doors and windows. The walls crackled and caved under the terrible raging storm, finally crushing the assembled and burying them in the debris. 

It was said the robber baron had unimaginable treasures of gold, silver and gems, also valuable utensils and objects hidden in the chambers of his castle. But all trace of such things had vanished in the rubble.

Many years after the fall of the castle, a knight appeared on the Eve before Easter. Alighting on the shore of the Rhine River, his oarsman told him the legend of Hoacht Castle. According to the saga, only one without blemish and pure of heart would be granted a vision of the castle’s treasures. This was the Easter Eve of legend and the oarsman urged the young knight not to hesitate but hasten up the path to the fortress before midnight. 

Together oarsman and knight hurried up the stony path. It seemed to widen as they went along, until finally at the top of the mountain it opened into a huge chasm. There stood a maiden clothed in snow-white garments. She motioned to the knight with her hand that he should approach while she slowly placed a lily on the ground. If the knight had been thinking properly, he would have immediately seized the flower. But alas, he did not. She motioned a second time and pointed to a hidden spot below the ground.

The knight believed she was pointing to the place the treasure lay buried. That is why he approached the spot but left the lily lying where she had placed it.

At one o’clock there was a terrible noise. The robber baron of yore now stood before the young knight with drinking cup in hand, just as he had stood hundreds of years before. His drinking companions surrounded him, throwing silver and gold coins into the air. But before the knight and oarsman could pick up one of the gold pieces, they all vanished. The lily which the maiden had placed on the ground now became an enormous viper, with thrashing tail and hissing tongue. The knight and oarsman had to retreat from the mountain to safety and were not able to retrieve any of the castle’s treasures.
As they ran down the steep path to the river, scornful laughter followed.


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Sunday, April 17, 2011

Fairy Tales for Palm Sunday


Intimations of Summer, Illustration Maurice Sendak

Fairy Tales for Palm Sunday

The Palm Sunday tradition of carrying and waving palm branches is reminiscent of Jesus’s procession into Jerusalem. But ancient European folk customs probably provide the basis for modern Palm Sunday celebrations. In fact ancient spring rituals tied to “palm” festivities can still be found in fairy tales and saga.  This website provides two popular tales with Easter ritual as the backdrop: Jorinda and Joringel and the Bird Who Tells the Truth

In German folk tradition, the word “palm” designated all manner of foliage associated with the new budding green blossoms of springtime. Three “palm” branches could signify three stems of boxwood or sallow, also known as goat willow. Often the native blossoms of hazel branches, juniper or even oak stems were referred to as “palms”. This "palm" custom seems to be tied to the belief that a mysterious life force lay dormant in seemingly dead twigs. Now in springtime, these invisible forces were gathering strength, revealed in the blossoms and buds of local flora. Imbued with miraculous healing and regenerative powers in fairy tales, these switches, branches or rods offer redemption and transformation to characters experiencing some sort of malaise, often life-threatening. By touching or stroking the person with the switch, branch or palm, the curative energy of the branch was transferred to the person, facilitating startling transformations in fairy tales. In Christian tradition, these first budding branches were carefully preserved after the spring Easter procession, and were often hung in the home behind the crucifix or in the window, where their blessing continued to flow out and touch both people and animals during the year. In pagan tradition, these first buds of spring were associated with the power to ward off witches and demons.  The magical properties of the palm were said to keep goblins, pixies, water men and other malevolent forces at bay. 

Friday, April 15, 2011

It's time to think about gnomes: fairy tale of the Venetian Gnome.


(Illustration by Harald Wiberg)


A Fairy Tale from Switzerland:


The Venetian Gnome

In ancient times dark-haired persons often traveled from Wales to the Swiss Alps. There they searched for gold in the cliffs and wild mountain streams. The local folk called these dark-haired visitors Venetians. They were popular among the Swiss because they were well-mannered and entertaining and told many stories about foreign lands and their city by the sea. But alpine shepherds thought it odd that these Venetians always carried leather purses round their necks. These little sacks were always filled with gold, even though the villagers themselves never found a single grain of gold dust despite all their searching. They knew that the Venetians were highly skilled and did a great deal more than eat rye bread.
It happened that such a Venetian, a plain-spoken little man, came every summer to Clarus, which is today a beautiful village near the alp called Glaernisch. As soon as the summer cow herders drove their herds into the high mountains, the Venetian Gnome followed. He helped the herders ladle out the milk, ate cheese and bread with them, and also slept in their wild mountain cabin. But while the cow herders kept watch over their cattle and made cheese and butter, the Venetian Gnome vanished between the cliffs and marched through streamlets and gathered stones that glistened in the bright sunlight. When his seven sacks were full, the Venetian disappeared but no one ever knew quite how it happened. When they all thought he was long gone, he reappeared on the alp and began collecting new stones in seven new sacks.
The herders thought the little man’s comings and goings a bit strange, but nothing more. One day, they decided to play a trick on the gnome. They secretly took one of his seven sacks and hid it in a place they thought he could never find. When the gnome returned in the evening from his gold search and entered the cabin, the Swiss herders were lying around on the grass outside. The gnome approached them: “I have noticed that you have hidden one of my sacks and the stones inside. Shall you fetch it, or shall I?” They laughed and replied “Go get it yourself!” To their amazement the little man ran directly to the spot under a steep drop-off where the cow herders had hidden his sack. Angered, the little man now returned the sack and the stones to the cabin.
As summer ended, the grass no longer grew so tall and snow hung in the air. The shadows were longer these days and the wind nipped at the cow herders’ cheeks. The Venetian Gnome took leave as he did every year. But this time he spoke to the herders in a friendly way: “I am returning to Venice. If one of you ever visit me there, I will give you a sack full of silver!”
The Venetian Gnome had hardly departed from the alps when the herders forgot his friendly invitation. Only one remembered; he was a poor man and owned a small parcel in the valley. He remembered the Venetian’s words. One sack full of silver would come in handy and help him care for his sick wife and many children.
When the herders now descended the mountain and returned to the valley, the larch trees and oaks had turned crimson and orange. But the poor herdsman quietly departed, crossed the river and the Gotthard Pass, until after a long march he arrived at the sea. In the distance he saw a city with many towers reaching into the heavens. It was the seaside city of Venice, about which the gnome had spoken so often.
When he arrived in the city, which only had a few streets because it was built in the middle of water on a few sand bars, he felt a bit strange because he did not know the house or street where the Venetian Gnome lived. He didn’t even know his name. Sadly he walked through several lanes and was already thinking about returning home, when suddenly someone tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around,  and a small, distinguished gentleman extended his hand and welcomed him. He immediately asked how things were in Clarus and how the cow herders were faring, whereby he referred to many of the villagers by name.
When the poor herder saw the finely dressed little man, he recognized the unassuming Venetian Gnome, who had shared so many summer days in the mountains with him and his comrades. He was happy when the little man invited him to come to his house and find accommodations there. He was amazed at the beautiful house the Venetian took him to, it was made of marble and the walls glistened. In front of the windows there lay a dark canal and above flew snow-white doves. Now things were going well for the cow herder. He received every sort of food that he desired and wine that was as red as blood. He soon regained his strength.
It wasn’t long before the poor cow herder tired of the good life, although he could have spent the entire day lying in silken sheets in bed. His thoughts always returned to his wife and children.
One day he sat in front of the Venetian’s fine marble palace, looked sadly around and remembered his distant homeland. The Venetian came out of the house and when he saw him sitting there so dejectedly, tears came to his eyes and he said in a friendly way: “I think you are bored here in Venice! Or are you homesick?”
“That’s it,” replied the cow herder.” I am plagued with homesickness. I don’t know what to do.”
The Venetian laughed, led him inside his house into a chamber the cow herder had never entered before. There was a magnificent mirror hanging on the wall. “Look into the glass,” the Venetian said, “See how things are going in the village of Clarus!”
Wonder of wonders! The cow herd now saw the village of Clarus clearly before him. But he also saw his own homestead, his wife bathing the children and her eyes were full of tears because she was thinking about her husband.
The Venetian now said “Go home! I will give you enough provisions in gold or silver. If you prefer gold, I will you give it to you. If you want silver, then you can fetch it yourself from my treasury.” The Glarner herder replied “I only want a sack of silver, like you promised me in Clarus on the alp.!” And with the permission of the Venetian he went into his treasury and filled a sack with silver.
When the cow herder left the marble palace and departed, the Venetian gnome said to him: “Pay attention to that sack so that you do not lose it on your journey. And if you sleep in an inn, take it with you to bed and place it under your head.” The cow herd thanked his host for every good thing that had been done and made his way from the seaside city. He wandered higher and higher into the mountains and toward his home.
When he had walked an entire day and night threatened to fall once again, he had to find accommodations in a Welsh village . This was difficult because he was still far from his hometown and the sack he carried was very heavy. But he searched out an inn, went to bed and placed the sack of silver under his head.
When he opened his eyes the next morning he found himself in Clarus, in his own bed with a mattress stuffed with leaves. He heard his cuckoo clock ticking in the kitchen and in front of the cabin he heard his goats bleating! First he thought he had dreamt it all and had never been to Venice. But then he noticed something hard under his head and found the sack full of silver. He rushed to his wife and children who squealed in glee! And how happy his poor wife was when she found his strange pillow. The poor cow herd now became a rich man. His descendants still live honorable lives in Clarus but the villagers call them the family from Venice.

Translation Copyright FairyTaleChannel.org

Saturday, April 9, 2011

The Three Feathers


Illustration by Beatrix Potter

Grimm’s Fairy Tale No. 63: The Three Feathers

A long time ago there lived a king who had three sons.  Two of them were smart and clever. But the third son did not say much. He was a simpleton and was also called the Dumbling.  When the king had become old and weak and saw his end approaching, he did not know which of his sons should inherit the kingdom. So he said to them: Go out into the world and whichever one of you brings me the finest carpet shall be king after my death!” He did not want them to argue amongst themselves so he led them outside before his castle, blew three feathers into the wind and said “As they fly, you shall follow.”

One feather flew to the east, the other to the west. But the third feather flew straight ahead and did not go far. It soon landed on the ground. The first brother went to the right, the second to the left and they laughed at the Dumbling who stood still next to where his feather had fallen.
The Dumbling sat down and was very sad. Suddenly he noticed a trap door next to where the feather was lying. He opened it and found a stairwell, which he promptly descended. There he found another door. He knocked and listened to the voice he heard within:

                “Maid, so green and fine,
                Hutzel-bine,
                Hutzel-bine’s little dog,
                Hutzel-here, Hutzel there,
                Quick run and see who’s there.”

The door opened and he saw a fat little toad sitting on the floor surrounded by a large number of little toads. The fat toad inquired what he wanted. He replied “I seek the most beautiful and finest carpet .” The toad cried out:

      “Maid, so green and fine,
                Hutzel-bine,
                Hutzel-bine’s little dog,
                Hutzel-here, Hutzel there,
                Quick run and see who’s there.”

The young toad fetched a satchel and the fat toad opened it and gave the Dumbling a carpet that was more beautiful and fine than any that could be woven on earth. He thanked her and ascended the stairs again.
The other two brothers thought their youngest brother much too stupid to find anything to bring back. “So why should we work so hard?” they asked. From the first shepherdess they encountered, they took the coarse cloth she carried and brought it to the king. At the same time the Dumbling returned and brought his beautiful carpet. When the king saw it, he was amazed and said “According to law, the  youngest should now own the kingdom!” But the two brothers would not give their father any peace and said it was impossible for the Dumbling to become king, because he was not intelligent enough. The father replied “Whoever brings me the most beautiful ring shall become king.” He led the three brothers out before his castle, blew three feathers into the air, and told the brothers to follow them. The two  oldest brothers once again went east and west. But the the Dumbling’s  feather flew straight ahead and once again fell near the earthen door. Again the youngest son descended to the fat frog and explained that he needed the most beautiful ring of all. The toad had her large satchel brought immediately and from this, she gave the youngest son a ring brilliantly shining with gems. It was so beautiful that no goldsmith on earth could have made it. The two oldest brothers had laughed at the Dumbling, who wanted to go out looking for a golden ring. They didn’t want to expend such effort, but instead took the nails out of an old wagon ring and brought them to the king. When the Dumbling presented his golden ring to the king, the father said again “The kingdom belongs to him.” The two oldest brothers would not stop bothering the king until he allowed a third condition to be made. The son who brought home the most beautiful woman as wife should have the kingdom. Once again he blew the three feathers in the air and they flew as they had the first two times.  

The Dumbling descended immediately to the fat little toad and said “I must now bring home the most beautiful woman.” “Ay,” replied the toad. “The most beautiful woman is not immediately available, but you shall have her.” She gave him a hollowed-out yellow turnip pulled by six little mice. The Dumbling was exceedingly sad “What shall I do with that?” The toad replied “Just select one of my little toads.” So he chose one of the little toads and placed it in the yellow turnip. It was hardly inside when it became a beautiful maiden, the turnip had become a carriage and the six little mice were now horses. He kissed his maid, raced  away with the horses and soon arrived at the king. His brothers soon followed. They hadn’t exerted themselves at all trying to find a wife, but rather chose one amongst the first servant girls they encountered. When the king saw them he said “The youngest shall inherit the kingdom after my death.” But the two oldest brothers once again complained to the king with their moaning. “We can’t  allow the Dumbling to become king.” And they demanded that the one whose wife could jump through the ring lying in the middle of the ballroom should become king. They thought to themselves “Servant girls can do that. They are strong enough. But the delicate maiden will die jumping!” The old king allowed this also. The two servant girls jumped through the ring but were so fat they fell and broke their arms and legs. Then the pretty maiden jumped, whom had been brought by the dumbling. She jumped through the ring as easily as a deer and all complaining had to end. The youngest son received the crown and he ruled wisely for a very long time.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Where God's Finger Points


(God's Finger)

Grimm’s Saga No. 350: Oxen Reveal the Holy Site 

Near Matten in a village not far from the mouth of the Fermel Valley in Switzerland there lie the ruins of a mighty stone structure. The following legend is told about it: In ancient times the community wanted to build a church to honor St. Stephan. A site was found where the wall was to stand. But every night, to the terror of all involved, the entire day’s work of the industrious builders was destroyed. The villagers now decided to span their building tools in the yoke of a team of oxen while praying. Wherever the oxen remained standing, that is where God’s finger pointed and where the new church would be built. The animals forded the river and remained standing where the Church of St. Stephan was then constructed.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Dragons Take Flight in Spring


Grimm’s Saga No. 217
Spring Awakenings: the Time of Dragons Stirring

Alpine folk in Switzerland have preserved many legends about dragons and lindworms. In ancient times they dwelled in mountain caverns often raining down destruction on the valleys. Today when a mountain river breaks out of its banks, tearing in its torrent trees and rocks as it descends, people still say: “The dragon has flown out.” The following story is one of the strangest of all:
A barrel binder from Lucerne went out to find wood for his barrels. He became lost in a barren, remote area when night fell. Suddenly he slipped into a deep hole filled with mud. It was as if a spring fed its waters into the depression. On both sides of the floor of this cave were passageways leading into enormous caverns. When he wanted to examine these areas more carefully, to his horror he met two terrifying dragons. The man prayed fervently but the dragons wound their tails around his body. But they did him no harm. One day passed and then several. He had to share the dragons’ company from November 6 until April 10. He nourished himself on the salty moisture that formed on the cave walls. When the dragons sensed that winter was over, they decided to take flight. The first one departed with loud flapping noise while the other dragon also prepared itself. Seeing this the unfortunate barrel binder seized the tail of the dragon and was pulled upward as the beast flew out of the cave. Once above, the man let go and soon found himself in the city. To commemorate the incident he had a priest’s robe embroidered, which can still be seen in Saint Leodagar’s Church in Lucerne. According to church records, the story took place in the year 1420.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Knight Frankenstein and the Lindworm at the Fountain


(Click on picture to enlarge.)


Grimm’s Saga No. 219: Knight Frankenstein and the Lindworm at the Fountain


In ancient times three brothers lived in the old castle of Frankenstein one-and-a-half hours distant from Darmstadt. Today you can still see their gravestones in the Oberbirbach Church. One of the brothers was named Hans, and his carved image standing on a dragon is still displayed in the churchyard. The village had a fountain, out of which both townsfolk and castle dwellers drew their water. But a horrible dragon nested near the fountain and the people could not fetch water if they did not first feed the dragon a sheep or cow. As long as the dragon was eating they could approach the water. Finally a knight by the name of Hans decided to put an end to this mischief. He waged battle with the worm until finally he was able to cut off its head. He wanted to bore through the rump of the dragon with his spear, which still lay wriggling. The pointed tail of the beast now encircled the knight’s right leg and pierced his knee socket, the only spot not covered by his armor. The entire worm was poisonous and Hans von Frankenstein now gave up his life.


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