The Glücksmännlein

You know already that the Mountain Lord is a charitable spirit giving generously to those deserving his kindness. However, if you were to ask any Silesian about Rübezahl, they would curse you for uttering his name. The people here have good reason to fear him, for he is just as quick to harshly rebuke those who deserve admonition. Some might tell you how fickle Rübezahl may be and that his character is as changeable as his appearance. But I tell you otherwise. It is the constitutions of those who meet the old Mountain Spirit that vary greatly. Rübezahl consistently discerns their true character and always acts justly.

Let me show you this…. I know I’ve got it here somewhere…. Aha! Here it is. I keep this with me wherever I go for good luck. It is called a “Glücksmännlein” which means “lucky little man.” As you can see, it is a four-leaf clover. But this clover is especially lucky because each leaf is made of pure gold. It was given to me by my close friend, Joseph, whom I became acquainted with on one of my journeys through this area. I consider it one of my most valued possessions because of the tale that lies at the root of this little golden charm.

I first met Joseph in the very same way I stumbled into meeting you. However, on that day, I was intently listening to his stories. Being mostly unfamiliar with the legend but having heard a few rumors, I asked him what he knew about the Mountain Lord. He looked at me as if he were surprised I would know of the local folklore but also happy that I had asked. He stopped walking along the road and led me into the shade of a solitary tree to escape the midsummer sun. After we made ourselves comfortable, he told me the story of the time he met Rübezahl face-to-face.

He prefaced his story with an old legend about a most beautiful walled garden hidden deep within the rugged slopes of the Riesenebirge mountains. According to the legend, the garden was owned and kept by none other than the Mountain Lord, and he only permitted entrance to a select few at special times and under peculiar conditions. The garden contained the finest and rarest flowers imaginable. But it was most famous, for in it bloomed a field of the most precious of all flowers, the Glücksmännlein. It was said that whoever plucked the Glücksmännlein on Saint John’s Night would become rich and happy for the rest of his or her life. However, to reap the flower’s reward, the one who plucked it must be pious, upright, and an orphan. To make the task more difficult, Rübezahl, himself, was said to guard the garden and would mercilessly break the neck of anyone who dared approach the gate.

Joseph then told me that he was well aware of the tradition as a young boy. He and his sister had been orphaned at a young age and had been taken in by a distant relative who earned his daily bread by doing the work of a simple brewer. He had dreamed of plucking the precious flower to benefit him and his dear sister and to thank his tender-hearted adoptive father. So, on the eve of Saint John the Baptist’s holiday, Joseph said that he set out to find the Mountain Lord’s pleasure garden.

On his way through the mountains, Joseph ran into a rich innkeeper, whom he recognized from working for the brewer. The man asked Joseph what he was doing out so late and then if he could accompany him in his search for the garden. As they were searching, the sun sank below the horizon and Joseph, as was his custom, folded his hands and prayed. The innkeeper scoffed at the boy’s innocence, giving no thought to prayer, but only dreaming of the wealth the Glücksmännlein would bring him.

Eventually, the pair found what had to have been the legendary garden. Before them was a sea of the coveted clovers that looked like shimmering silver in the moonlight. Immediately, the innkeeper gathered up as many flowers as his hands could grasp and stuffed them into his pockets. In contrast, the modest Joseph carefully plucked only two flowers and gently placed them in his pocket. Just as soon as they had done so, a thunderous voice boomed, “Halt!” The two looked up to see an old man had appeared in front of them.

With a long, silver-white beard adorning his sun-beaten and wrinkled face and a gardener’s smock draped over his thin, crooked frame, the old man approached Joseph. “Child,” he said in a soft and friendly tone, “why did you only take two of this most precious blossom?” Joseph told the man that he wanted his sister and himself to be rich and happy so that they would no longer be a burden to their guardian. “Such a brave and selfless lad,” the old man said, as if to himself. He then gave Joseph a large bag filled with Glücksmännlein and other beautiful flowers, instructing him to take special care of them. Joseph bowed his head in gratitude.

A wave of fear swept over the innkeeper as the old man’s attention turned towards him. The once meek gardener now overawed the impious man with a thunderous, “And who are you?” The innkeeper bashfully answered, “A poor man, who has blamelessly fallen into want, and who has also come to gather the Glücksmännlein to become rich and happy. For master, I, too, am an orphan. My parents died when I was a boy.” He had hardly finished his explanation when the old man hoisted him up with ease and forcibly hurled him down the steep mountain side to his death.

Frightened, Joseph fell to his knees and devoutly prayed to God. The old gardener gently took him by the hand and led him out of the garden. Joseph returned home and, being an upright boy, divided his gift into three equal portions: one for himself, one for his sister, and one for the kind brewer. The next morning, the three were astonished to find that every leaf had been transformed into pure gold. All three lived happy lives from that day onward.

As a token of goodwill and friendship, Joseph gave me this golden Glücksmännlein. Beyond being a precious good luck charm, it reminds me to remain virtuous and humble. Now come on. We may be near the end of our journey together, yet we still have some ways to go.