CHAPTER XXX. SAXON CUSTOMS AND DRAMAS.

Some of the Saxon customs are peculiarly interesting, as being obviously remnants of paganism, and offer curious proof of the force of verbal tradition, which in this case has not only borne transmigration from a distant country, but likewise weathered the storm of two successive changes of religion.

It speaks strongly for the tenacity of pagan habits and trains of thought, that although at the time these Saxon colonists appeared in Transylvania they had already belonged to the Christian Church for over three hundred years, yet many points of the landscape in their new country received from them pagan appellations. Thus we find{219} the G?tzenberg, or mountain of the gods,[61] which rises above the village of Heltau; and the Wodesch and Wolenk applied to woods and plains, both evidently derived from Woden.

Another remnant of paganism is the feurix or feuriswolf, which yet lingers in the minds of these people. According to ancient German mythology, the feuriswolf is a monster which on the last day is to open his mouth so wide that the upper jaw will touch the sky and the lower one the earth; and not long ago a Saxon woman bitterly complained in a court of justice that her husband had cursed her over-strongly in saying, “Der W?rlthangd saul dich frieszen!”—literally, “May the world-dog swallow thee!”

Many old pagan ceremonies are likewise still clearly to be distinguished through the flimsy shrouding of a later period—their origin piercing unmistakably through the surface-varnish of Christianity, thought necessary to adapt them to newer circumstances, and, like a clumsily remodelled garment, the original cut asserting itself despite the fashionable trimmings now adorning it. Thus, for instance, in many popular rhymes and dialogues it has been clearly proved that those parts now assigned to the Saviour and St. Peter originally belonged to the old gods Thor and Loki, while the faithless apostle Judas has had thrust upon him the personification of a whole horde of German demons. As to St. Elias, who in some parts of Hungary, as well as in Roumania, Serbia, and Croatia, is supposed to have the working of the thunder-bolts, there can be little doubt that he is verily no other than the old thunder-god Thor under a Christian mask.

One of the most striking of the aforementioned Christianized dramas is the Tod-Austragen, or throwing out the Death—a custom still extant in several Transylvanian villages, and which may likewise still be found existing in some remote parts of Germany.

The Feast of the Ascension is the day on which this ceremony takes place in a village near Hermanstadt, and it is conducted in the following manner:

After forenoon church on that day all the school-girls repair to the house of one of their companions, and there proceed to dress up the “Death.” This is done by tying up a thrashed-out corn-sheaf into the rough semblance of a head and body, while the arms are simulated by a broomstick stuck horizontally. This being done, the{220} figure is dressed in the Sunday clothes of a young village matron, and the head adorned with the customary cap and veil, fastened by silver pins. Two large black beads or black-headed pins represent the eyes; and thus equipped the figure is displayed at the open window, in order that all people may see it on their way to afternoon church. The conclusion of the vespers is the signal for the girls to seize on the figure and open the procession round the village. Two of the eldest school-girls hold the “Death” between them; the others follow in regular order, two and two, singing a Church hymn. The boys are excluded from the procession, and must content themselves with admiring the Sch?ner Tod (beautiful Death) from a distance. When the whole village has been traversed in this manner from end to end, the girls repair to another house, whose door is locked against the besieging troop of boys. The figure of Death is here stripped of its gaudy attire, and the naked straw bundle thrown out of the window, whereupon it is seized by the boys and carried off in triumph, to be thrown into the nearest stream or river.

This is the first part of the drama; while the second consists in one of the girls being solemnly invested with the clothes and ornaments previously worn by the figure, and, like it, being led in procession round the village to the singing of the same hymns as before. The ceremony terminates by a feast at the house of the parents whose daughter has acted the principal part, and from which, as before, the boys are excluded.

According to popular belief, it is allowed to eat fruit only after this day, as now the “Death”—that is, the unwholesomeness—has been expelled from them. Also, the river in which the Death has been drowned may now be considered fit for public bathing.

If this ceremony be ever neglected in the village where it is customary, such neglect is supposed to entail death to one of the young people, or loss of virtue to a girl.

This same custom may, as I have said, be found still lingering in various other parts, everywhere with slight variations. Thus there are places where the figure is burned instead of drowned; and Passion Sunday (often called the Dead Sunday), or else the 25th of March, is the day sometimes fixed for its accomplishment.

SAXON GIRL IN FULL DRESS.

In some places it was usual for the figure to be attired in the shirt of the last person who had died, and with the veil of the most recent bride on its head. Also, the figure is occasionally pelted with stones{223} by the youths of both sexes—those who succeed in hitting it being secured against death for the coming year.

At Nuremberg little girls dressed in white used to go in procession through the town, carrying a small open coffin in which a doll was laid out in state, or sometimes only a stick dressed up, and with an apple to represent the head.

In most of these places the rhymes sung apply to the departure of winter and the advent of summer, such as the following:
“And now we have chased the Death away,
And brought in the summer so warm and gay—
The summer and the month of May.
We bring sweet flowers full many a one,
We bring the rays of the golden sun,
For the dreary Death at last is gone.”

Or else:
“Come all of you and do not tarry,
The evil Death away to carry;
Come, spring, once more, with us to dwell—
Welcome, O spring, in wood and dell!”

And there is no doubt that similar rhymes used also to be sung in Transylvania, until they were replaced by Lutheran hymns after the Reformation.

Some German arch?ologists have attempted to prove the Death in these games to be of more recent introduction, and to have replaced the winter of former times, so as to give the ceremony a more Christian coloring by the allusion to the triumph of Christ over death on his resurrection and ascension into heaven. Without presuming to contradict the many well-known authorities who have taken this view of the question, I cannot help thinking that it hardly requires such explanation to account for the presence of Death in these dramas. Nowadays, when civilization and luxury have done so much towards equalizing all seasons, so that we can never be deprived of flowers in winter nor want for ice in summer, it is difficult to realize the enormous gulf which in olden times separated winter from summer. In winter not only were all means of communication cut off for a large proportion of people, but their very existence was, so to say, frozen up; and when the granaries were scantily filled, or the inclement season prolonged by some weeks, death was literally standing at the door of millions of poor wretches. No wonder, then, that winter and death became identical in their minds, and that they hailed the advent of{224} spring with delirious joy, dancing round the first violet, and following about the first cockchafer in solemn procession. It was the feast of Nature which they celebrated then as now—Nature mighty and eternal, always essentially the same, whether decked out in pagan or in Christian garb.

Another drama of somewhat more precise form is the K?nigslied, or Todtentanz (King’s Song, or Dance of Death), a rhymed dialogue still often represented in Saxon villages all over Transylvania.

Dramatic representations of the Dance of Death were first introduced into Germany before the fifteenth century by the Dominican order, but do not seem there to have taken any very firm root, since we hear no more mention of such performance existing after the middle of the fifteenth century. It is therefore probable that this drama was transmitted, as long as five hundred years ago at least, to the Transylvanian Saxons, who thus have retained it intact long after it had elsewhere fallen into disuse.

The personages consist of an Angel, robed in white, and with a golden wand; the King, attired in purple or scarlet cloak, crown, and sceptre, and followed by a train of courtiers; then Death, who is sometimes clothed in black, sometimes in a white sheet, and who either bears a scythe or a bow and arrows in his hand. On either side of him, by way of adjutants, stand two mute personages, a doctor and an apothecary—the first with powdered head, hanging plait, tricorn hat, and snuffbox in his hand; the latter bearing a basket containing medicine phials. The whole is sung, and the Angel opens the performance with these lines:
Angel. Good people all, come list to me—
New tidings to you will I sing;
’Tis of a mighty King
Who on the open market-place
With Death met face to face.
Death. All hail, thou rich and mighty King!
Great news to thee this day I bring;
Thy death-hour it has struck,
’Tis time for thee to join my band—
I wander thus from land to land.
King. Thou haughty man, who mayest be,
That I should have to follow thee?
{225}
What is thy land, thy name?
Art thou a lord? thy rank proclaim,
Else shaltst be put to shame.
Death. ’Twere well for thee my name to know;
Thy pride soon will I overthrow.
The people here they call me Death;
Of young or old I take no heed,
Alike they wither at my breath.
King. Of Death I oft have heard, indeed,
But cannot of thee now take heed.
Quick from my land begone!
Or shaltst be fettered foot and hand,
And in a dungeon thrown.
Angel. Then Death he shot a deadly dart,
And pierced the King unto the heart.
Death. O foolish mortal, proud and blind!
See now, where is thy vaunted power
In iron fetters Death to bind?
Angel. The King he turneth deadly pale,
And feels his strength about to fail.
King. Lord, mercif’ly my life prolong,
Thus wofully not let me die;
Hast plenty poor to choose among.
Death. More than I list of poor I have;
But rich men also do I crave
My ranks to ornament,
As bishops, princes, mighty kings—
These fill me with content.
King. Great is thy power—
Angel. The King did say,
Out-stretched as on his bed he lay—
King. O Death, unto thy power I bow;
But still one hope I cherish yet,
A favor last grant to me now.
Death. Then speak—
Angel. Said Death unto the King—
Death. Let’s hear what is this mighty thing.
King. But twelve years longer let me live;
Twelve thousand pounds of heaviest gold
In payment to thee will I give.
Death. For all thy gold I little care;
Do thou at once for death prepare.
{226}
’Tis vain to pray, ’tis vain to grieve;
Come in my ranks, for thou art mine—
Thy gold behind to others leave.
King. But give to me—
Angel. The King did say—
King. But half a year and yet a day;
I fain would build a castle new
Of massive stone, with lofty tower,
From which my kingdom I may view.
Death. Leave those to build who list to build;
For thee thy span of life is filled.
Come in my ranks and tarry not,
We must to-day a measure tread;
’Twill cause thee small delight, I wot.
King. Yet will I yet for something pray;
This only wish do not gainsay:
If only thou wiltst let me live,
A beggar humble will I be;
My royal crown to thee I give.
Death. O King, why useless words thus waste?
Prepare to go, and make thee haste,
Nor seek me idly to detain;
Still many thousand men must I
To-day invite to join my train.
King. Oh, hurry not—
Angel. The King did say—
King. But grant me yet another day.
To make my will still let me bide;
My silver, gold, and jewels rare,
I fain would righteously divide.
Angel. But Death then spoke.
Death. It cannot be;
Conform must thou to my decree.
Prepare to start without reprieve;
Thy silver, gold, and jewels rare,
Must be content behind to leave.
King. Then is it all in vain I pray?
Death. Lament and prayer all useless be.
King. Shall I not see another day?
Death. Not one. To judgment come with me.
King. Oh, grant me but one little hour!
Death. To grant aught is not in my power.
{227}
King. Have patience but three words to hear.
Death. Patience ’s an herb[62] which grows not here.
Angel. The King upon his couch down sinks:
His haughty form all helpless shrinks;
To ashy white has turned his lip.
Both rich and poor the strangler thus
With iron hand alike doth grip.
Thus stealthy Death will oft appear,
When no one deems that he is near,
With deadly aim to shoot his dart.
So live in God, his laws observe,
That mayst in peace depart.

[The King sinks down lifeless, and Death disappears. The soldiers raise up the dead body and lay it on a bier, singing—
Soldiers. Why value crown or power,
Since neither can we own
But for a passing hour?
No sceptre and no throne
Grim Death away can scare,
Nor gold nor jewels rare.
Angel [reappearing]. By Providence as herald sent,
Touched by the sound of dire lament;
The monarch to his land restore
Will I, in pity for your grief.
King, for thy kingdom live once more.

[The Angel touches the King’s breast, who, waking apparently from a deep slumber, sits up and sings—
King. How is’t I feel? and can it be
That once again the earth I see?
What miracle of grace!
Who art thou, Lord? I knew thee not;
Deign to reveal thy face.
Angel. The Lord who sent me to this land,
He is a Lord of mighty hand.
He gives, he taketh life,
As thou hast seen, O King, this day;
To do his will must strive alway.

[The King, now standing up, takes the crown from his head, and accompanied by the chorus, sings—

{228}
King. Lord of the world, the crown is thine,
Who rulest us with power divine.
Oh, what is man! He is but dust,
And fall a prey to death he must.
Let none be proud of lofty rank,
For ’tis indeed but idle prank.
Guide thou us, Lord, upon our way;
Our souls receive in grace some day.

Grimm is of opinion that this drama is also allegorical of the triumph of spring over winter, which opinion he chiefly supports by the incident of the King’s resurrection, and of the allusion to the garden. This view has, however, been strongly combated by other authorities, who remind us that in many old pictures Death is often represented as a gardener, and armed with bow and arrows.

“Herodes” is the name of a Christmas drama acted by the Transylvanian Saxons; but as, though undoubtedly ancient, it is totally wanting in humor and originality, I do not here reproduce it. Most probably such qualities as this drama may once have possessed have been pruned away by the over-vigorous knife of some ruthless reformer.

The Song of the Three Kings, beginning,
“Through storm and wind, through weather wild,
We come to seek the new-born child,”

is sung by little boys, who at Christmas-time go about from house to house with tinsel crowns on their heads, one of them having his face blackened to represent the negro king, and who expect a few coins and some victuals as reward for their performance.

At Hermanstadt these three kings threatened to become somewhat of a nuisance in Christmas-week, there being several sets of them who were continually walking uninvited into our rooms. At last one day when we had already received the visit of several such royal parties, our footman opened the door and inquired in a tone of mild exasperation, “Please, madam, the holy three kings are there again; had I not better kick them down-stairs?”