Transylvania might well be termed the land of superstition, for nowhereelse does this curious crooked plant of delusion flourish as persistentlyand in such bewildering variety. It would almost seem asthough the whole species of demons, pixies, witches, and hobgoblins,driven from the rest of Europe by the wand of science, had takenrefuge within this mountain rampart, well aware that here theywould find secure lurking-places, whence they might defy theirpersecutors yet awhile.
There are many reasons why these fabulous beings should retainan abnormally firm hold on the soil of these parts; and looking at thematter closely we find here no less than three separate sources ofsuperstition.
First, there is what may be called the indigenous superstition ofthe country, the scenery of which is peculiarly adapted to serve asbackground to all sorts of supernatural beings and monsters. Thereare innumerable caverns, whose mysterious depths seem made toharbour whole legions of evil spirits: forest glades fit only for fairyfolk on moonlight nights, solitary lakes which instinctively call upvisions of water sprites; golden treasures lying hidden in mountainchasms, all of which have gradually insinuated themselves into theminds of the oldest inhabitants, the Roumenians, and influenced theirway of thinking, so that these people, by nature imaginative andpoetically inclined, have built up for themselves out of the surroundingmaterials a whole code of fanciful superstition, to which theyadhere as closely as to their religion itself.
Secondly, there is here the imported superstition: that is to say,the old German customs and beliefs brought hither seven hundredyears ago by the Saxon colonists from their native land, and likemany other things, preserved here in greater perfection than in theoriginal country.
Thirdly, there is the wandering superstition of the gypsytribes, themselves a race of fortune-tellers and witches, whose ambulatingcaravans cover the country as with a network, and whose lessvagrant members fill up the suburbs of towns and villages.
Of course all these various sorts of superstition have twined andintermingled, acted and reacted upon each other, until in many casesit is a difficult matter to determine the exact parentage of some particularbelief or custom; but in a general way the three sources I havenamed may be admitted as a rough sort of classification in dealingwith the principal superstitious afloat in Transylvania.
There is on this subject no truer saying than that of Grimm, tothe effect that ‘superstition in all its manifold varieties constitutesa sort of religion, applicable to the common household necessities ofdaily life,’[1] and as such, particular forms of superstition may very wellserve as guide to the characters and habits of the particular nation inwhich they are prevalent.
The spirit of evil (or, not to put too fine a point upon it, thedevil) plays a conspicuous part in the Roumenian code of superstition,and such designations as the Gregynia Drakuluj (devil’sgarden), the Gania Drakuluj (devil’s mountain), Yadu Drakuluj(devil’s hell or abyss), &c. &c., which we frequently find attachedto rocks, caverns, or heights, attest the fact that these people believethemselves to be surrounded on all sides by a whole legion of evilspirits.
The devils are furthermore assisted by witches and dragons, andto all of these dangerous beings are ascribed peculiar powers on particulardays and at certain places. Many and curious are therefore themeans by which the Roumenians endeavour to