Multiple Births in Legend and Folklore
translated and edited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 1999
translated and edited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 1999
The following legend is told about King Aistulf, who ruled the Langobards in the middle of the eighth century: It is said that his mother brought five children to the world in one hour's time. The king only wanted to let one child live, and he said, "The child that takes hold of my spear shall live. The other four shall be set out!" One child reached out for the spear. The king named him Aistulf and allowed him to live.
Loosduynen (Leusden) is a small village one mile from The Hague. In the church there they still point out two baptismal fonts with the inscription, "In deze twee beckens zyn alle deze kinderen ghedoopt [All the children were baptized in these two fonts]." A plaque hanging nearby, inscribed with Latin and Dutch verses, commemorates the event described in the following popular legend:
Many years ago there lived in the village a Countess Margaretha (according to others her name was Mathilde), wife of Count Hermann of Henneberg. Sometimes she is referred to simply as the Countess of Holland. One day a poor woman carrying twins in her arms approached her and asked for charity. The countess scolded her, saying, "Get away, you shameless beggar! It is impossible for a woman to have two children at once from just one father!"
The poor woman replied, "Then may God let you have as many children as there are days in the year!" Some time later the countess became pregnant and on one day gave birth to 365 children. This happened in the year 1270 (1276), in the countess's forty-third year. These children were all baptized alive by Guido, the Bishop of Utrecht, in two bronze fonts. All the boys were named Johannes and the girls Elizabeth. However, within one day they all died, together with their mother, and all lie buried in one grave in the village church.
It is said that there is also a monument to this event in the church at Delft.
In the times of Agelmund, the King of the Langobards, it happened that a woman of this tribe gave birth to seven baby boys at one time. Being more brutal than wild animals, she threw them all into a fishpond to escape the shame. Just then the king rode past the pond, and he saw the miserable children floating there. Stopping his horse, he turned them from one side to the other with the spear he held in his hand. One of the children grasped the royal spear firmly with his little hand. The king recognized in this event a sign that this child was to become a special man. He ordered that he be pulled from the fishpond and turned him over to a wet nurse for care.
Because he had pulled him from a fishpond, which in their language was called a lama, he named the child Lamissio. He grew up and became a valiant hero. Following the death of Agelmund he became King of the Langobards.
Warin was a count of Altorf and Ravensburg in Swabia. His son's name was Isenbart, and the son's wife's name was Irmentrut. It happened that not far from Altorf a poor woman brought three children to the world at the same time. When Countess Irmentrut heard this, she exclaimed, "It is impossible that this woman had three children from one husband without committing adultery." She said this publicly in the presence of her husband Count Isenbart and court officials, adding that this adulteress deserved nothing more than to be sewn into a sack and drowned.
The next year the countess herself became pregnant and, during the count's absence, gave birth to twelve babies, all boys.
Shaking and trembling that she, according to her own words, would be accused of adultery, she ordered a servant woman to take eleven of the babies (for she kept one) to the nearest brook and to drown them.
The old woman put the eleven innocent boys into a large tub to carry them to the brook, named Scherz Brook. But as God willed it, Isenbart himself came by and asked the old woman what she was carrying. She answered that she had some whelps or young puppies.
"Let me see is some of them can be used later for breeding," said the count.
"Oh, you have dogs enough," said the old woman, backing away. "It would give you the creeps to see this messy tangle of dogs."
But the count did give in and forced her to uncover the children and show them to him.
Seeing the eleven babies, small but still of noble form and manner, he asked her immediately and sternly whose children they were. The old woman told him everything, how his wife had had the babies and why they were to be killed. The count then ordered that these "whelps" [welfs] be brought to a rich miller who lived in the vicinity and who would raise them. He further ordered the old woman to return to her mistress without fear or embarrassment and to tell her nothing except that her errand had been carried out.
Six years later the count brought the eleven boys, nobly dressed and groomed, to his castle (where the convent vineyard now stands). He invited all his friends and was making merry. When the meal was nearly over he had the eleven children brought in, all dressed in red. They all had the same complexion, build, size, and form as the twelfth child that the countess had kept. Everyone could see that they had all been produced by the same father and been carried beneath the heart of the same mother.
Then the count stood up and ceremoniously asked his friends what sort of death a woman deserved who would attempt to kill eleven such magnificent boys. Hearing these words, the countess fell to the floor powerless and unconscious, for her heart told her that this was her flesh and blood. After she had been brought back to consciousness, she fell crying at the count's feet, and begged him pitifully for mercy. The friends too intervened on her behalf, and so the count forgave her of the simplicity and childlike naiveté that had led to the crime. Thank God that the children lived.
As an eternal reminder of this miraculous event the count decreed, in the presence of his friends, that his progeny should no longer be known as the Counts of Altorf, but instead as the Welfs, and that his entire lineage should be known as the Welfs.
The present day district (and formerly castle) of Wölpe lies near Nienburg on the Weser River. In olden times a Count Erich (others say he was a court official) lived there.
His wife gave birth to twelve boys at one time, and was so cruel that she ordered her servant girl to set one aside and to drown the remaining eleven in a brook that flowed past the castle. The servant girl, intending to carry out this order, put the little ones into a basket and went outside. However, as she walked up onto the earthwork, she was met by Count Erich who asked her what she had in the basket. To escape detection, she said it was young wolves, which at that time were still plentiful in that area.
The count insisted upon seeing the animals and discovered the eleven little boys, each one identical to the others. He then commanded the servant girl to follow him and to tell no one what he was about to do. With that he found various foster homes in the vicinity for the children, and they stayed there until their confirmation.
After their confirmation he had the eleven boys dress up exactly like the twelfth, took them to the countess, and asked her to select her own son from among them, but she was not able to do this.
Now earlier he had once asked her what should happen to a mother who killed her own children. She had answered that such a woman should be thrown into boiling oil or something similar.
The count now reminded her of what she had said and told her that these were the twelve children that she had given birth to, and that he had rescued eleven of them and had had them raised. But he did not carry out the judgment that she had spoken against herself, allowing her instead to live, so that she could rejoice over her children.
And that is what happened. He lived with her and their twelve children a long time, and the place, because of this unusual occurrence, has since then been called Wölpe.
Many long years ago a Count Bruno lived in the castle at Querfurt. He was a great converter of the heathens, and made many trips to them. Now he had a wife who once scolded a beggar woman for having so many children while not knowing how to feed them. The beggar woman cursed her, and the next time she gave birth, she had nine boys at the same time.
Count Bruno had just set forth on a trip to the heathens, but when he came to a meadow just outside the town gate, his donkey stood still and refused to proceed. Try as he might, he could not get the donkey to move. Then he perceived that this was a sign from God that he should not undertake the trip, and he turned around.
In the meantime, the countess, fearing that her husband would think ill of her when he learned that she had given birth to nine children at one time, ordered the midwife to put eight of them into a kettle and to drown them. The latter was carrying the kettle toward the spring near the castle -- which to this day is called Bruno's Spring -- when she was met by Count Bruno, who was just returning to the castle. Hearing one of the baby boys crying , he asked her what she had in the kettle. She could not keep it a secret, and told him everything that had happened. He commanded her to keep secret what he was going to do, and told her to tell his wife that she had drowned the children.
He took the children to different people who lived in the same street -- the street is still called Bruno Street -- and had them raised there.
One day after they had grown, he had the eight boys dress up exactly like the ninth one. He then asked the countess what a mother would deserve who drowned her own children, saying that such a case had come before him, and he did not know the right punishment. She said that such a woman should be forced to stand in red hot shoes. Scarcely had she said this when her nine children -- which the count had kept hidden until now -- stepped before her. He asked her to identify her own child from among them. She could not do this, and he subjected her to the judgment that she herself had spoken.
To commemorate the fact that a donkey had prevented him from continuing on his journey, he had a chapel built in meadow where this happened, and the meadow is still called Donkey Meadow. Every year during the Easter week a fair was held and a great dispensation was granted there.
The fair still takes place every year, and in the castle they still have the kettle and the iron shoes in which the countess suffered her punishment.
She and her attendants were terrified at this overly rich blessing, and they feared the worst from their count and lord, for he was temperamental and had often spoken unfavorably about women who had given birth to more than one child -- say two or three at one time -- and here there were fully three times three. He could well think that this was altogether too many and hence react in an unpleasant manner.
Thus they took council with one another and decided to keep but one of the babies, the first and strongest, and to do away with the remaining eight. One of the servant women was ordered to carry the eight babies away in a kettle. She was to load the kettle with stones and sink it in the nearby castle pond.
This woman met Saint Bruno, who was living in Querfurt at the time. That early morning he was walking back and forth near a beautiful spring saying his prayers. Hearing a baby cry, he asked the woman what she was carrying.
Terrified, the woman said, "Young whelps," and attempted to hurry on her way. However, Bruno made her take the cover off the kettle, saw the eight babies, and forced the woman to tell to whom they belonged. She told him the whole truth.
Bruno swore her to secrecy, even with regards to the mother. At the spring he baptized the children in the copper kettle in which they were lying, naming each one Bruno after himself. He then gave them to good and loyal people for care and upbringing. This all he kept a deep secret until the time came for him to return to Prussia.
The ninth boy, the one that was kept, was named Burkhart, and with time he became the grandfather of Emperor Lothar.
Because Bruno was about to go abroad, he revealed the secret to his brother, making him promise to not hold this sinful act against his wife, who believed that the children were dead. In the intervening years she had felt the deepest regret and the most painful sorrow.
He then had the eight boys, all dressed alike, brought to the castle and introduced to their parents, who recognized from their appearance and gestures that they were the true brothers of the ninth boy. Sorrow and joy ruled at the same time.
However, Count Gebhard did not allow his wife to go entirely unpunished. He had a new pair of shoes made for her, not from leather but from iron. He had the iron heated until it glowed. The countess had to put on these red-hot shoes for a time for having agreed to the advise to murder the children.
These same shoes and the baptismal kettle are still on display in the church at Querfurt. To this day the spring is called "Bruno's Spring," and the pond where the whelps were to have been drowned is still called "Wolf Pond."
Adjacent to the castle is a garden, surrounded by a wall that is overgrown with elderberry and currant bushes. Not far from this seat of nobility flows the brook Rü Fortiang toward St. Vigiler's Brook. The following legend deals with this place.
A Knight Prack went to war, leaving his expectant wife at home.
One day a beggar woman came to Castle Asch and asked for alms. The noblewoman was hardhearted and had the old woman turned away. The woman left angrily, shouting up to the windows, "As punishment you shall bring twelve children into the world at one time."
And thus it happened. The woman brought twelve boys into the world at one time, but she kept only one of them, the one who pleased her most. She ordered a maidservant to drown the others in a nearby brook.
At the same time the knight returned home from the field. He met the maidservant with the eleven children in her apron. He asked her what she was carrying away, and the maidservant told him everything.
The knight had the eleven boys raised by strangers. At home he acted as if he knew nothing about the event. He caressed the boy that his wife had kept and attended to his knightly upbringing.
When the sons had grown up he sponsored a splendid feast and told his wife that he had invited eleven magnificent knights. The woman considered herself fortunate to be able to host such distinguished guests. She did everything to prepare a distinguished meal.
The eleven knights finally made their entry, and the feast began. As they ate, the knight entertained his guests with stories of his war deeds. Finally he turned the conversation to a discussion of various kinds of misdeeds.
Soon thereafter the knight began telling a story, "Once there was a raven-mother who brought twelve boys into the world. She wanted to kill eleven of them and to keep and raise only one. However, without her knowledge, she was hindered in her criminal intentions. The eleven boys were rescued and brought up away from home. What punishment would such a woman deserve?"
The wife, who had no idea that anyone knew anything about her secret except for the maidservant, and who thought that her eleven boys had long been dead, replied with indignation, "Such a raven-mother should be entombed alive."
With that the knight turned to her and said calmly, "You yourself are this raven-mother, and my eleven knightly guests are our sons whom you wanted to drown. God decreed otherwise, and fortunately they are still alive. Your own judgment will now be carried out on you."
The wife confessed her dastardly intentions, embraced and kissed her twelve sons, and was led away without resistance.
Her husband allowed her to select the place where she would be entombed. She chose the garden wall of their castle, and asked that she be allowed to put into her mouth a hollowed-out elderberry branch, such as grew on the garden wall, so that she could breathe. If the branch were to grow into an independent elderberry bush, then she was saved. If, however, it were to wither, then she was condemned to the torments of hell. Then she was entombed.
"Thank God," added hard-of-hearing old Frau Agreiter, who told me this story, "as you can see, the elderberry twig has grown into a splendid bush. The poor woman has done her penance and is now in heaven, for that was a long time ago."
Nonetheless, it can be spooky from time to time at Castle Asch, especially in the subterranean chambers. It is said that the great treasure of the Bracuns, an immeasurable amount of gold, is buried there, and also Saint George's saddle, upon which he sat when he killed the dragon. When the Pracks rode in that saddle they were said to be invincible.
In the vicinity of Niedenstein there lived in ancient times a wealthy nobleman, who occupied himself hunting. At home he had a beautiful but proud wife.
One morning when the noblewoman was home alone a poor woman knocked at her door. She was holding one child by the hand, carrying one on her arm, and had yet another one beneath her heart. She asked for alms.
"Get out of here!" cried out the hard-hearted noblewoman. "Why must you poor people have so many children, if you can't afford to feed them?"
The woman turned away, saying as she left, "May one day you be given seven at one time!"
Not long afterward the noblewoman did indeed give birth to seven boys at one time. In her fear, she commanded her servant girl to put six of the boys into a basket and to carry them away and throw them into the water before her husband returned home. "If on your way anyone questions you," she said, "just tell them that you have some young dogs to be drowned; but on your life, do not open the lid."
The servant girl did as she had been ordered, but as fate would have it, the first person she met was the nobleman, who was just returning home.
"What do you have in the basket?" he asked.
The servant girl answered uneasily, "Young dogs. My mistress ordered me to throw them into the water."
"Let me see the dogs," said the nobleman.
Whatever excuses the servant girl made, and however she tried to refuse, it was all to no avail, and in the end she had to open the basket.
Instead of dogs, the nobleman was startled to see six healthy boys. They reached out their arms toward him and look up at him imploringly with their large blue eyes. He forced the servant girl to tell her secret and made her swear that she would report back at home that she had carried out her errand. He then took the basket and went to the pastor in the next village.
"Would you baptize six young dogs for me?" he asked the pious man, who was outraged at such disrespect and sent the nobleman away. The same thing happened at a second pastor. However, the third pastor he sought out said that he was willing to baptize the dogs.
Each of the boys was given the name "Dog." The nobleman made a donation to the pastor at Metz which even today is at the parsonage and is called the "dog-tithe."
The nobleman found a different foster home for each of the boys, but he always made sure that each one was dressed in the same way that the boy was dressed who had been kept by his wife.
After they had grown up he summoned them all to his castle. The proud wife was startled to see them, but even more when her husband asked her what a mother would deserve who tried to drown six such splendid boys.
She composed herself quickly and responded with impudence, "She would deserve to be placed in a barrel studded with nails, and then rolled down a mountain."
"You have spoken your own judgment," said the nobleman, "for these are your children who were rescued for me by a fortunate coincidence from the death that you prepared for them.
And he had the judgment carried out.
In the old convent church at Möllenbeck on the Weser River in the district of Schaumburg there is a wooden statue of a female saint carrying a church on her arm. The legend states:
Once Count Uffo was returning to his homeland following a long absence in foreign lands. While en route he dreamed that his wife Hildburg had given birth to nine children in his absence. Startled, he quickened his pace.
Hildburg met him with joy and with the words, "I believed you were dead. But I have not been alone. I have given birth to nine daughters, and they are all dedicated to God."
Uffo answered, "Your children are also my children. I will care for them."
But they were nine churches, including the convent at Möllenbeck, which the pious woman had built and endowed.
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Revised June 3, 1999.