Chapter 32

I could fill sheets with this kind of stories: with all their similarity, they differ in details, and I had to pick out what was characteristic. (20) Then, as to locality, they occur not only in Alamannian, Franconian, Hessian or Thuringian districts, but I believe all over Germany, notably in Westphalia, L. Saxony, the Marks, and further East; no doubt also in Switzerland, Bavaria and Austria. Schmeller 1, 33 mentions the Loferer jungfrau of Salzburg country, and remarks that the story has spread far into Bavaria. And the people of Friesland, Drenthe and the Netherlands have just as much to tell of their witten wijven or juffers in hills and caverns (J. W. Wolf no. 212), though here they get mixed up with elvish personages. Thiele's Danske folkesagn 4, 33 cites a white woman, 'den hvide qvinde' of Flensburg, who watching a treasure waits for deliverance; and 4, 96 a gold-spinning dame in black dress near Veilefjord in North Jutland. The Swed. hvita gvinna above, p. 995n., seems to be of another kind.

Sometimes the narrative becomes fuller and like a fairytale: e.g. that in Bechstein 4, 221 no. 39 of the couple who had set down their child of five years in the forest while they gathered wood, but could not find it again, and looked a long time, till the child came running up with flowers and berries which the white maid had given it out of her garden. The parents then set off to see this garden: it was all out in bloom, though the time of the year was cold; the white maid beckoned to them, but they were afraid. The child wished every day to go to her, wept and moped, sickened and died: it was forfeited to the sky-folk, the elves (conf. Kinderlegenden no. 3). Again, a man who puts up at a lonely huntingbox, hears at midnight a scuffing of shoes, the white woman comes to his bedside, bewails her woe, and craves deliverance, as Condwîrâmûrs did of Parzivâl (Mone's Anz. 6, 396-8; and Suppl.).

For the origin of these White Women we need not go to the Celtic matrons and fays (pp. 410-7) who are closely related to them; our own antiquity brings us to beings nearer still. Elfins and swan-wives appear in white shining garments; among goddesses may be named three in particular, of whom the 'white woman' and finally the 'nun' might be the outcome: Holda, who in the very same way combs and bathes in the midday sun, Berhta, white by her very name, who spins and weaves, Ostara (pp. 290. 780), to whom the people offered up may-lilies (p. 58). Holda and Berhta bestow trifling gifts, which turn into gold; the white women are fond of gold rings and wands (Mone 7, 476), heaps of gold lie on their laps (8, 185), they give away boxfuls of gold sand (5, 414). Berhta as the white ancestress appears when a death is at hand (p. 280); so does the white maid (Bechst. 4, 158). Berhta's misshapen foot (p. 280) lies at the root of the white maiden's goat-foot, her long nails (Mone 7, 476), her green or yellow slippers (p. 965); else why should these have seemed so strange? The woman half-white, half-black, resembles Hel (p. 312), unless one would trace them to the garb of a nun (Mone 3, 259). Even the white man's occasionally displacing the white dame (6, 69) is like Berhtolt by the side of Berhta. Allegoric females like those in chap. XXIX evidently have in their manner of appearing much in common with white women.

Now the pervading thought in all this of being banned and longing for release I take to be just this, that the pagan deities are represented as still beautiful, rich, powerful and benevolent, but as outcast and unblest, and only on the hardest terms can they be released from the doom pronounced upon them. The folktale still betrays a fellow feeling for the white woman's grief at the attempted deliverance being always interrupted and put off to some indefinitely distant date.

The traditional mode of expressing this is peculiar and assuredly ancient: He that shall some day speed in achieving the deed and upheaving the hoard (his predestined reward), must be rocked as a babe in the cradle made of the wood of the tree that now, but a feeble twig, shoots out of the wall of a tower: should the sapling wither or be cut away, the hope of release is put off till it sprout anew and be grown a tree (D. sag. nos. 107, 223). Other conditions aggravate the difficulty: The cherry-stone, out of which the seedling is to sprout, must be carried into the chink of the wall by a little bird (Bechst. Franken 191); among the stones a double firtree must spring out of one root, and when it is 100 years old, two unmarried persons must hew it down on St. Wunibald's day, the stouter stem shall slide down the hill in a sledge on St. Dagobert's day, and out of its planks the deliverer's cradle be made (Mone's Anz. 3, 91); the walnut-tree is now but a finger high, whose planks are to form the cradle in which the future deliverer must lie (7, 365). Sometimes it is merely said, the tree is yet unplanted, the timber unhewn (6. 397. 7, 476. 8, 63). In Ad. Kuhn no. 94 the formula runs thus: A lime-tree shall be planted, that will throw out two plantschen (boughs) above, and out of their wood is a poie (buoy) to be made: the first child that therein lies is doomed to be brought from life to death by the sword, and then will salvation ensue. In all these tales the arrival of the future event is linked with the germinating of a tree, just as the World-fight was made to depend on the sprouting of the ash (p. 960), or on the dry tree breaking into leaf (pp. 955-7).

Another difficulty put in the way of deliverance is, that the maiden in some disgusting shape, as a snake, dragon, toad or frog, has to be kissed three times (D. sag. no. 13. Mone's Anz. 3, 89. 7, 476). Already in the poem of Lanzelot we have this kissing of the dragon's mouth, who after that turns into a fair lady (7881. 7907-90).

Now and then the apparition of the white dame basking in the sun, beaming and bathing, melts into the notion of a water-holde and nixe (p. 491), a Scand. hafs-fru (Afzelius 2, 150), spirits that likewise need redemption (p. 493). Twelve white sea-maids come and join in the dancing of men (Mone's Anz. 5, 93); add the Romance legend of Melusina. But such mer-women generally assume, wholly or in part, the shape of a fish or snake; and some white women have a fish's tail, a snake's tail imputed to them: a king's daughter was immured in the golden mount as a snake, and only once in three nights recovered her human form (Kinderm. no. 92); in the Oselberg by Dinkelsbühl dwells a snake with woman's head and a bunch of keys about the neck (D. sag. no. 221; and Suppl.).

With the notion of mountain-banishment is commonly associated that of an enchanted, yet recoverable treasure. Where the ancient hero or god sits in his mountain cavern, just as in the hero's grave or barrow, lies hidden a huge hoard; and the white woman, the snake woman, or simply snake and dragon, are they that guard it.

The Goth. huzd, OHG. hort, AS. heord, ON. hodd, seems to be letter for letter the Lat. cust in custos, custodia, and this from curo (for cuso), so that our hûs (what harbours, shelters) and the Lat. curia (house and court) will come under the same root; thus huzd already contained the notion of keeping watch and ward. From thesaurus, It. Sp. tesoro, Fr. trésor, was taken the OHG. treso, dreso. The Goth. skatts, OHG. scaz meant simply numus, and has only gradually acquired the sense of our schatz, thesaurus, gaza; as late as the 13^th cent. schatz had simply the meaning of money, wealth (Flore 7749. Troj. 2689. 3171. MS. 2, 146a), not of depositing and guarding.

The generally diffused belief that treasures sleep in the bosom of the earth causes O. v. 4, 23, in speaking of the earthquake at the Saviour's resurrection, to say: 'sih scutita io gilîcho thiu erda kraftlîcho, ioh sî sliumo thar irgab thaz dreso thar in iru lag,' gave up the treasure that in her lay.

The treasure being buried deep down, it follows, that whoever would gain possession of it, must dig it up (heben, heave). It is supposed that the treasure moves of itself, i.e. slowly but steadily strives to come to the surface, it is commonly said, at the rate of a cock's stride every year (D. sag. no. 212). We saw how the thunderbolt, Donar's priceless hammer, after plunging far into the ground, pushed its way up in seven years (p. 179). At an appointed time the treasure is up, and waiting to be released; if then the required condition fails, it is snatched away into the depths once more. Its nearing the surface is expressed by the phrase 'the treasure blossoms' (as fortune blossoms, p. 866), 'it gets ripe'; then 'it fades' (Simpl. 2, 191), has to sink again. This may refer to the blowing of a flower above or beside it. In MHG. they spoke of the treasure coming forth: 'wenne kumt hervür der hort, der mich sô rîche möhte machen?' MS. 1, 163. It ripens in most cases every seven years, in some only every hundred, and that especially under a full moon, or during the Twelves. Another phrase is, 'the treasure suns itself': on the Fridays in March it is said to rise out of the ground to sun itself (Mone's Anz. 8, 313), and that spreading-out of the wheat and the flax-pods (p. 962-4) was this kind of sunning; the treasure heaves itself up in cauldrons, and then indicates its presence by a clear blaze shining on it, as fire flickers over a ghost's barrow (p. 915-6); a blue flame is seen upon it (Reusch no. 46); it has the appearance of glowing embers, of a brewing-copper full of red gold (nos. 7. 25-6); when a fire burns over it, they say 'the treasure airs itself.' Nevertheless many treasures do not move toward the surface at all, but have to be sought in the cavern itself.

Two requisites for raising the treasure are silence and innocence. Holy divine tasks endure no babble: thus, heilawâc must be drawn in silence (pp. 229. 586), in silence herbs of magic power be picked; cry out over a treasure, 'twill sink that moment out of sight (Superst. 214). The harmless hand of childhood is fit to lay hold of it, as it is to draw lots; poor village boys, shepherd lads, are they that find it (D. sag. 7. 157-8); he that is stained with vice can never come near it (ib. 13).

Whoever spies the treasure should hasten to throw something on it, both as taking possession, and to ward off danger. It is recommended to throw quickly over the treasure either bread, or a piece of clothing worn next the skin, or a three-halfpenny piece (Superst. I, 218. 224. 612). See the passages on fire, quoted p. 602-3.

But the hoard is indicated and guarded. Indicated by the re-appearance of those vanished heroes and white dames; indicated and watched by dogs, snakes, dragons. Also the flickering flame (waver-lowe, p. 602) or the flower in bloom bewrays it, and swarming beetles (p. 694) are a sign of it (see Suppl.).

To get into the mountain in which it is concealed, one usually needs a plant or root to clear the way, to burst the door.

The folktales simply call it a beautiful wonderflower, which the favoured person finds and sticks in his hat: all at once entrance and exit stand open for him to the treasure of the mountain. If inside the cavern he has filled his pockets, and bewildered at the sight of the valuables, has laid aside his hat, a warning voice (21) rings in his ear as he departs: 'forget not the best!' but it is then too late, the iron door shuts with a band, hard upon his heel, in a twinkling all has disappeared, and the road is never to be found again. The same formula comes up regularly every time in the legends of the Odenberg, of the Weser mountains and the Harz, and in many more (D. sag. nos. 9. 303. 314. Bechst. 1, 146. 3, 16. 4, 210-1. Dieffenbach's Wetterau pp. 284-5. 190); it must be very old. (22) The flower is commonly said to be blue, the colour most proper to gods and spirits, yet also I find 'purple flower' and 'white flower' mentioned. Sometimes it is called schlüsselblume (key-flower), because it locks the vault, and as symbol of the key-wearing white woman, whom the bunch of keys befits as old mistress and housekeeper, and who has likewise power to unlock the treasure; also luck-flower (Bechst. 3, 212), butmost frequently wunderblume. When three wonderflowers are named, it seems to mean three on one stalk (ib. 1, 146. 4, 209). The sudden violent springing-to of the door is remarkably like the Edda's 'hrynja honom þâ â hœl þeygi hlunnblick hallar,' Sæm. 226a; 'þegar laukst hurðin â hœla hönum,' Sn. 2; 'eigi fellr honum þâ hurð â hœla,' Fornald. sög. 1, 204; and twice of the slamming of hell's door (p. 315). A shepherd boy has the heel of his shoe carried away (D. sag. 157), as another who hastens away has his heel cut off (Kinderm. 3, 75). When a shepherd mistook the order, the vault broke down, the door closed behind him with a crash, but caught him by the heel of one foot and smashed it, he was long a sufferer, and spent the money he had brought away on the cure of his foot (Bechst. 4, 211); or, he rushes out, the door slams behind him, and both his heels are cut away (Harrys 2, 14). I set some value on the recurrence of these formulas, and should like to trace them in MHG. poems. A 13^th cent. phrase, 'die berge sint nû nâch mir zuo' (mountains closed behind me now), MS. 2, 145b, seems to mean that former chances are now forfeited.

Instead of wonderflowers or keyflower, other stories name the springwurzel (explosive root), a herb that can be procurred in the following manner: The nest of a green or black woodpecker, while she has chicks, is closed tight with a wooden bung; the bird, on becoming aware of this, flies away, knowing where to find a wonderful root which men would seek in vain. She comes carrying it in her bill, and holds it before the bung, which immediately flies out, as if driven by a powerful blow. Now if you are in hiding, and raise a great clamour on the woodpecker's arrival, she is frightened, and lets the root fall. Some spread a white or red cloth under the nest, and then she will drop the root on that, after using it. Mone's Anz. 8, 614 gives a pretty old passage out of Conrad von Megenberg: 'Ain vogel haist ze latin merops, und haist ze tütsch bömheckel (tree-hacker), und nist in den holen bömen, und wenn man im sinü kint verslecht (nails up) mit ainem zwickel, so bringt er ain krut (herb) und hält das für den zwickel, so vert (starts) der zwickel her dan. Das krut haist 'herba meropis,' daz spricht bömheckelkrut, und haist in der zöberbuch 'chora,' und wer nit guet daz man es gemainklich erkant, wan es gänt sloss gegen im uff (not good to be generally known, for locks fly open before it), damit smidet nieman, wan der gevangen lyt uf den lip.' The pecker was esteemed a sacred and divine bird (p. 673); even Pliny 10, 18 reports the myth: 'Adactos cavernis eorum a pastore cuneos, admota quadam ab his herba, elabi creditur vulgo. Trebius auctor est, clavum cuneumve adactum quanta libeat vi arbori, in qua nidum habeat, statim exsilire cum crepitu arboris, cum insederit clavo aut cuneo.' (23) That the woodpecker specially is acquainted with the magic virtues of herbs, appears from other tales: he guards them, and flies at the eyes of the man that would pull them up. Thus Pliny says 25, 4, 10 of the pæony: 'praecipiunt eruere noctu, quoniam si picus martius videat, tuendo in oculos impetum faciat;' and 27,10, 60: 'tradunt noctu effodiendas, quoniam pico martio impetum in oculos faciente, interdiu periculosum sit.' That root of explosive power is supposed to be the euphorbia lathyris, which the Italians call sferracavallo, because its power over metals is so great, that a horse stepping on it has to leave the shoe behind (see Suppl.).

But, beside these plants that make doors fly open, another very ancient means of discovering and obtaining the gold or treasure buried in the earth is the wishing-rod. Why should an OHG. gloss at once render 'caduceus' by wunscili-gerta (Gramm. 2, 540. Graff 4, 257), but that this term was thought to come nearest the sense of Mercury's magic wand? The Latin name carried nothing on the face of it about wish or wishing (Notker in Cap. 15. 37 translates it fluge-gerta, virga volatilis). The notion then of a magic rod with a German name of its own was of very old standing, and that name moreover is one connected with the meaning I have more than once mentioned of the word 'wunsch,' which, like sælde, signified both the sum total of happiness and a personal being Wunsch or Sælde. The diminutive form of it in wunscili-gerta leads me to see in this compound no reference to a person, but to a thing: it is the gerta (yard, rod) by possessing which a man becomes partaker of all earthly bliss. The bestowal of that bliss proceeds from Wuotan the supreme (p. 419).




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