One time as a man from this village was getting reeds at the Darmssen, he found among them a little child that was rough all over his body. The smith cried out, "Don't take away my son!" but the man put the child on his back, and ran home with it. Since that time the smith has never more been seen or heard. The man reared the Roughy, and he became the cleverest and best lad in the place. But when he was twenty years old he said to the farmer, "Farmer, I must leave you. My father has called me!"

"I am sorry for that," said the farmer. "Is there no way that you could stay with me?" "I will see about it," said the water-child. "Do you go to Braumske and fetch me a little sword; but you must give the seller whatever he asks for it, and not haggle about it." The farmer went to Braumske and bought the sword; but he haggled, and got something off the price. They now went together to the Darmssen, and the Roughy said, "Now mind. When I strike the water, if there comes up blood, I must go away; but if there comes milk, then I may stay with you." He struck the water, and there came neither milk nor blood. The Roughy was annoyed, and said, "You _have_ been bargaining and haggling, and so there comes neither blood nor milk. Go off to Braumske and buy another sword." The farmer went and returned; but it was not till the third time that he bought a sword without haggling. When the Roughy struck the water with this it became as red as blood, and he threw himself into the lake, and never was seen more.[295]

_The Working Waterman._

At Seewenweiher, in the Black-Forest, a little Water-man (_Seemanlein_) used to come and join the people, work the whole day long with them, and in the evening go back into the lakes. They used to set his breakfast and dinner apart for him. When, in apportioning the work, the rule of "Not too much and not too little" was infringed, he got angry, and knocked all the things about. Though his clothes were old and worn, he steadily refused to let the people get him new ones. But when at last they would do so, and one evening the lake-man was presented with a new coat, he said, "When one is paid off, one must go away. After this day I'll come no more to you." And, unmoved by the excuses of the people, he never let himself be seen again.[296]

_The Nix-Labour._

A midwife related that her mother was one night called up, and desired to make haste and come to the aid of a woman in labour. It was dark, but notwithstanding she got up and dressed herself, and went down, where she found a man waiting. She begged of him to stay till she should get a lantern, and she would go with him; but he was urgent, said he would show her the way without a lantern, and that there was no fear of her going astray.

He then bandaged her eyes, at which she was terrified, and was going to cry out; but he told her she was in no danger, and might go with him without any apprehension. They accordingly went away together, and the woman remarked that he struck the water with a rod, and that they went down deeper and deeper till they came to a room, in which there was no one but the lying-in woman.

Her guide now took the bandage off her eyes, led her up to the bed, and recommending her to his wife, went away. She then helped to bring the babe into the world, put the woman to bed, washed the babe, and did everything that was requisite.

The woman, grateful to the midwife, then secretly said to her: "I am a Christian woman as well as you; and I was carried off by a Water-man, who changed me. Whenever I bring a child into the world he always eats it on the third day. Come on the third day to your pond, and you will see the water turned to blood. When my husband comes in now and offers you money, take no more from him than you usually get, or else he will twist your neck. Take good care!"

Just then the husband came in. He was in a great passion, and he looked all about; and when he saw that all had gone on properly he bestowed great praise on the midwife. He then threw a great heap of money on the table, and said, "Take as much as you will!" She, however, prudently answered, "I desire no more from you than from others, and that is a small sum. If you give me that I am content; if you think it too much, I ask nothing from you but to take me home again." "It is God," says he, "has directed you to say that." He paid her then the sum she mentioned, and conducted her home honestly. She was, however, afraid to go to the pond at the appointed day.

There are many other tales in Germany of midwives, and even ladies of rank, who have been called in to assist at Nix or Dwarf labours. The Ahnfrau von Ranzau, for example, and the Frau von Alvensleben--the Ladies Bountiful of Germany--were waked up in the night to attend the little women in their confinement.[297] There is the same danger in touching anything in the Dwarf as in the Nix abodes, but the Dwarfs usually bestow rings and other articles, which will cause the family to flourish. We have seen tales of the same kind in Scandinavia, and shall meet with them in many other countries.

FOOTNOTES:

[294] This legend seems to be connected with the ancient idea of the water-deities taking the souls of drowned persons to themselves. In the Edda, this is done by the sea-goddess Ran.

[295] Grimm, _ut sup._ p. 463.

[296] Grimm, _ut sup._ p. 453.

[297] A tale of this kind is to be seen in Luther's Table-talk, told by _die frau doctorin_, his wife. The scene of it was the river Mulda.

SWITZERLAND.

Denn da hielten auch im lande Noch die guten Zwerglein Haus; Kleingestalt, doch hochbegabet, Und so hulfreich uberaus!

MuLLER.

For then also in the country The good Dwarflings still kept house; Small in form, but highly gifted, And so kind and generous!

We now arrive at Switzerland, a country with which are usually associated ideas of sublime and romantic scenery, simple manners, and honest hearts. The character of the Swiss Dwarfs will be found to correspond with these ideas. For, like the face of Nature, these personifications of natural powers seem to become more gentle and mild as they approach the sun and the south.

The Dwarfs, or little Hill- or Earth-men[298] of Switzerland, are described as of a lively, joyous disposition, fond of strolling through the valleys, and viewing and partaking in the labours of agriculture. Kind and generous, they are represented as driving home stray lambs, and leaving brushwood and berries in the way of poor children. Their principal occupation is keeping cattle--not goats, sheep, or cows, but the chamois, from whose milk they make excellent and well-flavoured cheese. This cheese, when given by the Dwarfs to any one, has the property of growing again when it has been cut or bitten. But should the hungry owner be improvident enough to eat up the whole of it and leave nothing from it to sprout from, he of course has seen the end of his cheese.

The Kobolds are also to be met with in Switzerland. In the Vaudois, they call them Servants,[299] and believe that they live in remote dwellings and lonely shiels.[300] The most celebrated of them in those parts is Jean de la Bolieta, or, as he is called in German, Napf-Hans, _i. e._ Jack-of-the-Bowl, because it was the custom to lay for him every evening on the roof of the cow-house a bowl of fresh sweet cream, of which he was sure to give a good account. He used to lead the cows to feed in the most dangerous places, and yet none of them ever sustained the slightest injury. He always went along the same steep path on which no one ever saw even a single stone lying, though the whole side of the mountain was strewn as thickly as possible with boulders. It is still called Bolieta's Path.[301]

Rationalising theory has been at work with the Swiss Dwarfs also. It is supposed, that the early inhabitants of the Swiss mountains, when driven back by later tribes of immigrants, retired to the high lands and took refuge in the clefts and caverns of the mountains, whence they gradually showed themselves to the new settlers--approached them, assisted them, and were finally, as a species of Genii, raised to the region of the wonderful.

For our knowledge of the Dwarf Mythology of Switzerland, we are chiefly indebted to professor Wyss, of Bern, who has put some of the legends in a poetical dress, and given others in the notes to his Idylls as he styles them.[302] These legends were related by the peasants to Mr. Wyss or his friends, on their excursions through the mountains; and he declares that he has very rarely permitted himself to add to, or subtract from, the peasants' narrative. He adds, that the belief in these beings is strong in the minds of the people, not merely in the mountain districts, but also at the foot of Belp mountain, Belp, Gelterfingen, and other places about Bern.[303]

As a specimen of Mr. Wyss's manner of narrating these legends, we give here a faithful translation of his first Idyll.[304]

_Gertrude and Rosy._

GERTRUDE.

Quick, daughter, quick! spin off what's on your rock.

'Tis Saturday night, and with the week you know Our work must end; we shall the more enjoy To-morrow's rest when all's done out of hand.[305]

Quick, daughter, quick! spin off what's on your rock.

ROSY.

True, mother, but every minute sleep Falls on my eyes as heavy as lead, and I Must yawn do what I will; and then God knows I can't help nodding though 'twere for my life; Or ... oh! it might be of some use if you Would once more, dearest mother, tell about The wonderful, good-natured little Dwarfs, What they here round the country used to do, And how they showed their kindness to the hinds.

GERTRUDE.

See now! what industry!--your work itself Should keep you waking. I have told you o'er A thousand times the stories, and we lose, If you grow wearied of them, store of joy Reserved for winter-nights; besides, methinks, The evening's now too short for chat like this.

ROSY.

There's only one thing I desire to hear Again, and sure, dear mother, never yet Have you explained how 'twas the little men Lived in the hills, and how, all through the year, They sported round the country here, and gave Marks of their kindness. For you'll ne'er persuade Me to believe that barely, one by one, They wandered in the valleys, and appeared Unto the people, and bestowed their gifts: So, come now, tell at once, how 'twas the Dwarfs Lived all together in society.

GERTRUDE.

'Tis plain, however, of itself, and well Wise folks can see, that such an active race Would never with their hands before them sit.

Ah! a right merry lively thing, and full Of roguish tricks, the little Hill-man is, And quickly too he gets into a rage, If you behave not toward him mannerly, And be not frank and delicate in your acts.

But, above all things, they delight to dwell, Quiet and peaceful, in the secret clefts Of hills and mountains, evermore concealed.

All through the winter, when with icy rind The frost doth cover o'er the earth, the wise And prudent little people keep them warm By their fine fires, many a fathom down Within the inmost rocks. Pure native gold, And the rock-crystals shaped like towers, clear, Transparent, gleam with colours thousandfold Through the fair palace, and the Little-folk, So happy and so gay, amuse themselves Sometimes with singing--Oh, so sweet! 'twould charm The heart of any one who heard it sound.

Sometimes with dancing, when they jump and spring Like the young skipping kids in the Alp-grass.

Then when the spring is come, and in the fields The flowers are blooming, with sweet May's approach, They bolts and bars take from their doors and gates, That early ere the hind or hunter stirs, In the cool morning, they may sport and play; Or ramble in the evening, when the moon Lights up the plains. Seldom hath mortal man Beheld them with his eyes; but should one chance To see them, it betokens suffering And a bad year, if bent in woe they glide Through woods and thickets; but the sight proclaims Joy and good luck, when social, in a ring, On the green meads and fields, their hair adorned With flowers, they shout and whirl their merry rounds.

Abundance then they joyously announce For barn, for cellar, and for granary, And a blest year to men, to herds, and game.

Thus they do constantly foreshow what will Befall to-morrow and hereafter; now Sighing, and still, by their lamenting tones, A furious tempest; and again, with sweet And smiling lips, and shouting, clear bright skies.[306]

Chief to the poor and good, they love to show Kindness and favour, often bringing home At night the straying lambs, and oftener still In springtime nicely spreading, in the wood, Brushwood, in noble bundles, in the way Of needy children gone to fetch home fuel.

Many a good little girl, who well obeyed Her mother,--or, mayhap, a little boy,-- Has, with surprise, found lying on the hills Bright dazzling bowls of milk, and baskets too, Nice little baskets, full of berries, left By the kind hands of the wood-roaming Dwarfs.

Now be attentive while I tell you one Out of a hundred and a hundred stories; 'Tis one, however, that concerns us more Than all the rest, because it was my own Great-great-grandfather that the thing befell, In the old time, in years long since agone.

Where from the lofty rocks the boundary runs Down to the vale, Barthel, of herdsmen first In all the country round, was ploughing up A spacious field, where he designed to try The seed of corn; but with anxiety His heart was filled, lest by any chance His venture should miscarry, for his sheep In the contagion he had lost, now poor And without skill, he ventures on the plough.

Deliberate and still, at the plough-tail, In furrows he cuts up the grassy soil, While with the goad his little boy drives on The panting ox. When, lo! along the tall Rocky hill-side, a smoke ascends in clouds Like snow-flakes, soaring from the summit up Into the sky. At this the hungry boy Began to think of food, for the poor child Had tasted nothing all the live-long day For lunch, and, looking up, he thus began: "Ah! there the little Dwarf-folk are so gay At their grand cooking, roasting, boiling now, For a fine banquet, while with hunger I Am dying. Had we here one little dish Of the nice savoury food, were it but as A sign that there's a blessing on our work!"

'Twas thus the boy spake, and his father ploughed Silently on, bent forwards o'er his work.

They turn the plough; when huzza! lo! behold A miracle! there gleamed right from the midst Of the dark furrow, toward them, a bright Lustre, and there so charming! lay a plate Heaped up with roast meat; by the plate, a loaf Of bread upon the outspread table-cloth, At the disposal of the honest pair.

Hurra! long live the friendly, generous Dwarfs!

Barthel had now enough--so had the boy-- And laughing gratefully and loud, they praise And thank the givers; then, with strength restored, They quick return unto their idle plough.

But when again their day's task they resume, To break more of the field, encouraged now To hope for a good crop, since the kind Dwarfs Had given them the sign of luck they asked-- Hush! bread and plate, and crums, and knife and fork, Were vanished clean; only--just for a sign For ever of the truth--lay on the ridge The white, nice-woven, pretty table-cloth.