One of Switzerland’s original horror stories comes from Jeremias Gotthelf, born in 1797, who lived in the Emmental and wrote moral tales befitting his day job as a pastor.

His classic novella The Black Spider , written in 1842, was intended to put the fear of God in its readers and warn against pacts with the devil.

It succeeds.

Here is my long, very abridged, translated, re-telling of the story.

(For the original text in German, see here.)

It’s a Baptism!

On a farm deep in a narrow valley in the Emmental, guests gather for a baptism party.

(This involves a pretty impressive breakfast, and Gotthelf masterfully describes the food, including my favourite line of his ever, where he compares the size of a Zopf to a one-year-old child:

Neben den Käse stellte sie die mächtige Züpfe, das eigentümliche Berner Backwerk, geflochten wie die Zöpfe der Weiber, schön braun und gelb, aus dem feinsten Mehl, Eiern und Butter gebacken, groß wie ein jähriges und fast ebenso schwer; und oben und unten pflanzte sie noch zwei Teller. Hochaufgetürmt lagen auf denselben die appetitlichen Küchlein, Habküchlein auf dem einen, Eierküchlein auf dem andern. Heiße, dicke Nidel stund in schön geblümten Hafen zugedeckt auf dem Ofen, und in der dreibeinigen, glänzenden Kanne mit gelbem Deckel kochte der Kaffee. So harrte auf die erwarteten Gevatterleute ein Frühstück, wie es Fürsten selten haben und keine Bauren auf der Welt als die Berner. Tausende von Engländern rennen durch die Schweiz, aber weder einem der abgejagten Lords noch einer der steifbeinichten Ladies ist je ein solches Frühstück geworden.

Next to the cheese she put the mighty Zopf, that singular Bernese baked good, plaited like the braids of the women, beautifully brown and yellow, baked from finest flour, eggs, and butter, as big as a one year old and almost as heavy; at the top and bottom she also put two plates. Piled high on these were the appetizing little cakes, Habküchlein on one, Eierküchlein on the other. Hot, thick cream stood covered in pots with beautiful flower decorations and coffee was bubbling in the shiny, three-legged jug. Thus, a breakfast such as princes rarely have and no other farmers in the whole world except the Bernese have, awaited the godparents. Thousands of englishmen run through Switzerland, but neither the pursued lords nor the stiff-legged ladies are ever offered such a breakfast.

As soon as the child is baptized, the guests tuck into their feast. This is followed by a tour of the farm which has been newly renovated.

“This is great!” exclaims one man. “I don’t understand how people can live in derelict homes when they have enough money and wood!”

A woman remarks that she would love a beautiful new house like this one, but costs have been prohibitive. Then she wrinkles her nose. “Don’t take offense,” she says, “but what is that old black post by the window that makes the whole house look shoddy?”

Grandfather rubs his hands together, now it’s his time to shine.

“Let’s me tell you the story of the black spider.”

The Knight and the Hunter

Centuries ago, the cruel knight Hans von Stoffeln (with eyes like plow wheels and a beard like a lion’s mane) owned this land and demanded hard labour from the peasants who lived on it, his serfs.

One day the tired peasants were called to see von Stoffeln, who demanded they uproot a bunch of trees from a faraway mountain, haul them back to his manor house, and plant them along his driveway to provide a shady path.

“But we’ll starve! Who will look after the crops! Think of the women! The children!”

This complaint brought out von Stoffeln’s wrath “And you have only a month to finish.”

The farmers were beside themselves. They cried and thought of the massive work to bring their already hungry cows up the mountain with them, uproot the trees, pull them back along the long valley…and all during the Maimond, the time in May when farmers plant their fields and work day and night to ensure food for the winter ahead.

The peasants couldn’t bring themselves to go home and tell their families, so they sat on the side of the road crying.

A hunter in green, with a red feather in his cap and a glowing red beard, appeared from a cave.

At first the peasants were intrigued by his offer of help, but as soon as he mentioned his very low fee, an unbaptised baby, the peasants recoiled and ran away.

“Yeah, yeah,” the devil called after them, “go home and talk to your wives, I’ll be back here in three days, and then we’ll see what happens.”

The Lindauerin

Of course it was the only outsider in the town, Christine (from Lindau, about a three-hour drive today), who decided to take the deal on behalf of the miserable peasants.

“Um, unfortunately we don’t currently have an unbaptised baby…” she told the devil, but luckily he was happy to make the pact, do the work, and wait for payment.

“Do I have to sign in blood?” worried Christine.

“A pretty lady never signs in blood.”

The devil leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, making her feel as if she had been struck by lightning and the sky had shattered.

Her cheek burned but the trees were planted in time.

Phew.

The Devil’s Payment

Of course, the devil didn’t forget his payment.

But, when the first baby was born the peasants were sneaky and the devil was slow. The priest got to the house first and baptised the newborn before the devil arrived.

High fives all around.

Except Christine, who began to feel a tingle in her cheek where the devil had kissed her.

A second woman became pregnant, but the townspeople were pretty sure they could save this baby too.

The tingle in Christine’s cheek was growing. She could see the form of a spider under her skin, eight legs growing bigger and getting hairy.

Spider Fury

As the priest went to baptize the second newborn, Christine stopped him along the way, her face nearly bursting with the giant poisonous spider who was trying to break out through her cheek.

The priest managed to repel her with his holy implements and rushed into the house, where he doused the child in holy water.

Christine, just outside, wailed as thousands of small spiders rushed out of her face and descended like a plague upon the valley.

The spiders rampaged, killing cattle and crops.

Finally, in light of the damage, the peasants agreed to sacrifice the next child.

Christine took the newborn, relieved that she would finally be rid of the painful spider on her face. However, just as she tried to give the baby to the devil, the priest jumped out and sprayed holy water on the child. The devil hissed away and Christine erupted in rage, transforming into a spider and sitting on top of the baby.

The priest steeled himself and managed to throw the spider into the woods, grab the baby and take it to its mother. However, both the priest and baby were already infected with the spider’s poison and they both died.

Spider-Christne began to slowly terrorize the peasants, destroying their farms and cattle, and killing people at will, including von Stoffeln.

Eventually a pious woman managed to capture her and lock her in the wooden post (though dying in the attempt).

Back to the Baptism

Grandfather finishes his story and the guests, shocked and saddened, sit in silence.

They look at each other, waiting for someone to speak first, but it’s the voice of the maid that breaks the silence,

“I’ve called and called! It’s dinner! The food will be ruined and I will be blamed!”

They eventually make it back to their dinner, another amazing feast:

Hell glänzten auf dem Tische, frisch gefüllt, die schönen Weinflaschen, zwei glänzende Schinken prangten, gewaltige Kalbs- und Schafbraten dampften, frische Züpfen lagen dazwischen, Teller mit Tateren, Teller mit dreierlei Küchlene waren dazwischengezwängt, und auch die Kännchen mit dem süßen Tee fehlten nicht.

The beautiful, freshly filled wine bottles shone brightly on the table, with two shining hams, mighty, steaming roasts of veal and mutton, fresh Zopf lying in-between plates with tarts, plates with three kinds of little cakes squeezed in-between, as well as jugs with sweet tea.

but they are still disturbed by Grandfather’s story and keep looking around nervously for the spider.

Grandmother berates Grandfather for telling depressing stories, but he defends himself, saying the past must not be forgotten.

The guests have an uneasy meal.

Suddenly a woman shrieks, “the spider!”

But it was only a fly. Everyone is relieved and they start talking about the spider again.

Grandmother shakes her head, as Grandfather continues the story of the spider locked in the post.

The Return of the Spider

For a long time after the spider was trapped, the valley was peaceful and prosperous. As long as the peasants honoured God, they lived a happy life.

But soon arrogance returned…and foreign women.

After two hundred years a particular foreign woman (who was like Christine in many ways, though don’t worry, she wasn’t from Lindau), lived in the spider house with her (good, Christian) son Christen and (bad, foreign) daughter-in-law.

Both women felt the presence of the spider and wanted to leave the house. So they decided to build a new house above the old house, and leave the old house to the farmhands and maids. Without regard for construction norms or labourer welfare, the women pushed to have the house built in record time.

The foreign women moved into their new house and enjoyed a life of leisure, quite without a thought for God.

The Lower House gets Lawless

In the lower house the maids and farmhands ran wild.

They forgot their religion, everything was a mess, and they had no regard for each other. The farmhands tortured the maids, who shrieked and protested, and their favourite game was pretending to let the spider out of the post.

On Christmas Eve the game came to fruition, and in a frenzy of stolen food and wine, one crazed farmhand let the spider out.

Of course it killed all the farmhands and maids, then the greedy women in the house above (sparing the children and Christen himself, who had been at church).

Was das für eine Weihnacht war in Sumiswald!

Then the spider went on a Christmas killing spree.

Her reign of terror extended by weeks as she killed people throughout the valley. Her favourite trick was to wait for the procession carrying the dead to the cemetery and attack the pallbearers, leaving a group of dead around the coffin in the middle of the road.

Christen, although the most pious of them all, was blamed by the other peasants for letting the lower house run wild and releasing the spider.

So, after much praying, he decided he had to sacrifice himself. He armed himself with implements to trap the spider and waited at home. However it was a wild pregnant woman who came to his door instead, and gave birth on his doorstep.

He knew to save the baby he must bring it to the priest, but he was greeted by the spider along the way. Grabbing the spider, who injected him with poison, he managed to get the baby to the priest and race back to his house.

He thrust the spider into the post and sealed it up.

Then, after a tender look at his own children who had managed to sleep through the commotion, he died.

Crickets

Grandfather’s story ends, and all the guests at the baptism are silent for a long time.

Eventually Grandmother entreats them to eat and drink some more, and they discuss the importance of not losing sight of such parts of a history, no matter how gruesome.

The moral of the story?

Don’t forget the past.

And for a brief video synopsis in German, with Playmobil actors:

Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween!

(Thanks to Sam for proofreading and help with the translation.)