'Tis the _silent man_, whom many
Years I've comfortably sheltered.
Once he was a proud old mortal,
And I found him in the valley,
And I offered then to show him
Where to find the nearest village.
But he shook his head and broke out
In a mocking scornful laughter.
Marvellously grand his words were,
Now like prayers devout and pious,
Like a psalm, such as we gnomes sing
Often in the earth's vast bowels;
Then like curses unto heaven.
Much I could not understand.
But it woke the recollections
Of the days of time primeval,
When the wild ferocious Titans
Rocks and mountains tore up o'er us
From their firm and deep foundations,
And we fled to greater depths.
For the man I felt great pity,
And I took him to my cavern;
And he liked it, when I showed him
All the gnomes' incessant labours;
And directly felt at home here.
Oft together have we listened
To the growing of stalactites,
Chatted also many evenings
Of the things below us hidden;
Only when my conversation
Turned to men, he grew quite angry;
Dark his frowns were, and he broke once
Seven columns in his fury.
When I wished to praise the sunlight
And the skies, he stopped me, saying:
'Speak not of the sky or sunlight!
In the sunlight there above us
Snakes are creeping, and they sting one;
Men are living and they hate one;
Up there in the starry heavens
We see questions which are waiting
For an answer; who can give it?'
So he stayed here in the cavern,
And the grief which overwhelmed him
Was dissolved in tender sadness.
Oft I saw him gently weeping;
Oft, when a melodious wailing
Through the columns' hollow shafts rang,
He sat there, his sweet songs singing.
But he gradually grew silent.
Did I ask him what he wanted,
Then he smiling took my hand:
'Gnome, I many songs can sing thee,
But the best I have not sung yet.
Will you know its name? 'Tis silence.
Silence--silence! oh how well one
Learns it here in thy deep cavern;
Depth creates true modesty.
But the cold is o'er me creeping;
Gnome! 'tis true, my poor heart freezes.
Gnome! dost thou know what true love is?
If for diamonds thou art digging,
And dost find them, take them with thee,
Guard them safely in thy cavern.
Gnome, thy heart will never freeze then!'
"These the last words he has spoken.
Now for years he has been silent
In this spot. He has not died yet
Nor is living, but his body
Slowly into stone is changing;
And I nurse him; heartfelt pity
For my silent guest I cherish,
Often try to cheer his spirit
With the columns' solemn music,
And I know it pleases him.
Without taking any freedom,
I think you too are a minstrel;
And the service you can do me
Is to play before my guest here."
Then young Werner took his trumpet
And began to play; his mournful
Strains were ringing through the cavern
As if breathing forth deep pity.
Then in thinking of his own love,
Through the sadness now there mingled
Strains of joy--first faint and distant,
Then came nearer--fresher, fuller,
And the last notes sounded like a
Glorious hymn on Easter morning.
And the silent man then listened,
Nodded gently with his head.
Fare-thee-well, dream on in peace, thou
Silent man, in thy still cavern,
Till the fulness comes of knowledge
And of love, to wake the sleeper.
Through the winding cave young Werner
With the gnome was now returning.
As the spacious dome they entered
A great rock the gnome uplifted.
Underneath a shrine was hidden,
And within were sparkling jewels,
Also writings and old parchments.
One pale amethyst, and papers
Which by age had turned quite yellow,
Gave the gnome now to young Werner,
Saying: "Take these as mementoes!
If the world above doth vex thee,
Here thou e'er wilt find a refuge.
But when wicked men are saying
That gnomes' feet are webbed like geese-feet,
Then, by lime-spar and rock-crystal!
Say that they are dreadful liars.
True, our soles are somewhat flattened;
But 'tis only a rude peasant
Who so cruelly maligns us.
Now good-bye, there is the outlet;
Take the pine-torch, light thyself now,
I have other things to do."--
Spoke and crept into a crevice.
Musing through the narrow passage
Went young Werner, and his head struck
Oft against the rocky ceiling
Ere he reached again the daylight.
Peacefully the evening-bell rang
Through the vale as he went homeward.
ELEVENTH PART.
THE HAUENSTEIN RIOT.
Through the Schwarzwald spreads a buzzing.
Buzzing as of bees when swarming,
As of the approaching storm-wind.
In the tavern savage fellows
Meet: their heavy fists are striking
On the table: "Bring me wine here!
Better times are now approaching
For this land of Hauenstein."
From the corn-loft brings the peasant
His old-fashioned rusty musket,
Which below the floor was hidden;
Fetches also the long halberd.
On the walnut-tree the raven
Harshly croaks: "Long have I fasted;
Soon I'll have meat for my dinner,
I shall relish thee, poor peasant!"
Now the people from the mountains.
Throng at Herrischried the market;
There the seat is of their union,
There they hold their union-meeting.
But to-day the Hauenstein peasants
Came not in black velvet doublets,
With red stomachers and white frills,
As was usually their custom.
Some had buckled on cuirasses,
Others wore their leather doublets;
In the breeze the flag was waving,
And the morning sun was shining
On their spears and thick spiked clubs.
Near the old church in the market
Stood the village elders, with the
Union-leader and mace-bearer.
"Silence, men!" the beadle shouted.
Silence reigned, and on the church-steps
Mounted then the peasants' speaker,
Holding an official paper,
Stroked his long gray beard, and said:
"Inasmuch as the hard war-time
Has much injured town and country,
And the debt is much augmented;
So to meet increased expenses
Our most gracious rulers hereby
Do exact new contributions;
Seven florins from each household,
And from all the bachelors two.
And next week the tax-collector
Comes to gather these new taxes.
So 'tis written in this paper."
--"Death upon the tax-collector!
May God damn him!" cried the people.--
"Now as we ourselves have suffered
Quite enough by this sad war, and
Many lost their goods and chattels;
And because 'tis pledged in writing
As one of our privileges,
That there shall be no new taxes
E'er imposed upon this country,
Many this demand consider
As a most unjust extortion,
Think we should stand up most firmly
For our ancient rights by charter,
And should never pay a farthing."
--"Not a farthing!" cried the people.--
"So we summoned you together
For your final resolution."
Like the distant surf their voices
Loudly roared in wild confusion:
"Come! stand up! speak out! We must now
Hear the Bergalingen Fridli.
He knows best--and all we others
Always are of his opinion."
Then stepped out the man thus called for,
And upon a big log mounting,
Spoke thus with a shrewd expression:
"Do you see at last, dull peasants,
What the end will be? Your fathers
Once gave up their little finger;
Now they want to seize the whole hand.
Only give it, and you'll soon see,
How they'll flay your very skin off!
Who can really thus compel us?
In his woods free lives the peasant,
Nothing but the sun above him.
So it stands in our old records,
In the statutes of our union:
Nothing there of rent and socage,
Nothing of a bondman's service!
But there's danger we shall have them.
Do you know what will protect us?
Yonder there the Swiss can tell you,
And the valiant Appenzellers.
This here!"--and he brandished fiercely
O'er his head his thick spiked club.--
"On the fir-tree I heard piping
Lately a white bird at midnight:
Good old time, that bygone time,
Peasants, freemen in their forests;
If with spears and guns you seek it,
You will see it soon returning.
Now, Amen! my speech is ended."
Then wild cries rose from the people--
"He is right" were many saying;
"To the devil with our rulers!
Burn these damned taxation-papers!
All these scribblers may look out soon
If this flame can be extinguished
With the fluid in their inkstands."
Said another: "Thou, oh governor,
Didst consign me to a dungeon;
Poor my fare, with only water!
Thou hast wine within thy cellar,
And I hope we now shall try it.
Yes, with thee I'll square accounts soon!"
Said a third one: "Thee my musket,
Which has brought down many woodcocks,
I shall use for nobler sport soon.
Then hit well! For we'll be shooting
At the great black double eagle."
Thus a murmur through the crowd went.
Just as when the plague is raging,
Everywhere infection spreadeth,
So were all the peasants' hearts now
Filled with passion and blind wrath.
And in vain spoke the experienced
Villaringen elder, Balthes:
"If a horse's tail is bridled,
Not his mouth, no one can drive him.
If the peasant seeks for justice
By revolt, all will go badly;
In the end he gets a thrashing.
Hence of old we were commanded
To obey the ruling powers,
And--" but now in voluntary
Was he stopped in his sage counsels:
"Turn him out, this old fool Balthes!
May God damn him! He is faithless;
He's a traitor to his country!"
Thus they howled out, stones were flying,
Spears were threatening, and his friends could
Hardly get him off in safety.
"To be short, what use of speaking?"
Fridli said, of Bergalingen.
"Who are faithful to our old rights
And will go for them to battle,
Raise their hands high!" And they raised them
All, while loud hurrahs they shouted.
Arms are clanking, flags are waving,
Battle-cries--the drums are beating.
And that day large bands were marching
From the hills toward the river
To attack the forest-cities.
In the forest from the fir-tree
Looked the wood-sprite Meysenhartus,
Mocking at the peasants' army,
Said: "A lucky journey to you!
No need I should now mislead you,
As you choose yourselves the wrong track!"
Scouts are riding, watchmen blowing,
Women wailing, children crying;
Through the vale rings the alarm-bell.
Burghers through the streets are running:
"Close the gates! Defend the town-walls!
Bring the guns up to the tower!"
From the terrace saw the Baron
This commotion in the forest,
How the mountain-paths were darkened
By the peasant-bands descending.
"Am I dreaming," said he, "or have
All these men indeed forgotten,
How a hundred and fifty years since
Such mad peasants' jokes were punished?
Yes, indeed, the forest glitters
With their helmets and their halberds.
Well devised, you cunning peasants!
While below there on the Danube
The proud eagle of the emperor
Lets the Turks feel his sharp talons,
You think that it will be easy,
On the Rhine to pluck his feathers!
Look out well that this your reckoning
Won't deceive you; and I swear here,
The old Baron will not fail to
Greet you with a warm reception."
Turned and went into the castle,
And he donned his leathern doublet,
Buckled on the heavy broadsword,
And gave orders to the household:
"Quickly get your weapons ready,
Keep good watch upon the towers,
Raise the drawbridge, and let no one,
While I am away, here enter!
Master Werner, you may order
All the rest. Protect my castle,
And my daughter, my chief treasure!
Have no fear, dear Margaretta;
Brave must be a soldier's child.
Only some few coal-black ravens
Come there flying from the forest,
Want to get their skulls well battered
'Gainst the walls of this good city.
God preserve you! I myself go
To my post, up to the town-hall."
Margaretta threw herself now
In the Baron's arms, who kindly
Pressed upon her brow fond kisses.
Shaking Werner's hand then warmly
He walked off unto the square.
There the ladies of the convent
Wailing went up to the minster:
"Show us mercy, Fridolinus!"
By his door the "Button" landlord
Asked the Baron: "Is it time now,
That we put our gold and silver
In the cellar's deepest places?"
Said the Baron: "Shame upon you!
It is time to take your weapons
And to help defend the city.
Show the same zeal as when fishing!"
In the town-hall were assembled
Councillors and burgomaster.
Many of the city-fathers
Made wry faces, as though fearing
The last judgment-day was coming.
On their hearts their sins were pressing
Like a hundredweight; they cried out:
"Save us, God, from this great evil,
And we'll promise all our lifetime
Ne'er to take unlawful interest,
Never to defraud the orphan,
Ne'er to mix sand with our spices."
Even one proposed this motion:
"Let us send out to these peasants
Meat and wine in great abundance,
Also of doubloons some dozens,
That from hence they may depart;
They in Waldshut may look out then,
How they drive away these fellows."
Now the Baron came among them:
"My good sirs! I do believe you
Hang your heads. To work now bravely!
When the Swedes the town beleagured,
Then 'twas grave, but this is only
Child's play. Surely you have always
Liked to hear and make good music;
So the booming guns will please you.
Let the orchestra strike up now!
And these fellows, when they hear you,
Homeward soon will all go dancing,
E'er the emperor's own detachment
Plays for them the grand finale."
Thus he spoke. In times of terror
Oft a brave word at the right time
Can work wonders; many cowards
From example drink in courage;
And one single iron will leads
Oft along the wavering masses.
Thus the council looked up strengthened
To the Baron's gray moustaches.
"Yes, this is just our opinion,
We'll defend our city bravely,
And the Baron shall command us;
For he knows well how to do it.
Death to all these cursed peasants!"
Through the streets th' alarm is sounded
To the town-gate, where a narrow
Dam leads on to terra firma,
Ran well armed the younger people.
On the bastion stood commanding
Fludribus, the fresco-painter,
Who had there assembled round him
Some young lads who with great effort
An old gun were hauling up there.
Smiling looked at them the Baron,
But great Fludribus said gravely:
"Devotees of art can boast of
Stores of universal knowledge.
Let them have a chance, and they will
Rule the state as well as armies.
My keen eye sees well there's danger
In this spot; and as Cellini
From the Castle of St Angelo
Shot the constable of France once.
So--alas at foes inferior--
Cannonades here Fludribus."
"Only do not kill them all off!"
Said the Baron; "and be sure first
To get balls enough and powder;
For, the gun you there are dragging
Will not be of use without them!"
To the Rhine-bank came the peasants
In great crowds, and looked up growling
At the high walls of the city
And the well-closed city-gate.
"In his den the fox is hiding,
He has barred his hole most firmly,
But the peasants will unearth him,"
Fridli said, of Bergalingen.
"Forward! I will be your leader!"
Drums were beating the assault now,
Heavy muskets cracking loudly;
Through the powder-smoke ran shouting
All these hordes against the town-gate.
On the walls to best advantage
Had the Baron placed his forces;
And was tranquilly then looking
At the crowd of wild assaulters.
"'Tis to be regretted," thought he,
"That such strength is idly wasted.
Out of these strong country lubbers
One might form a splendid regiment."
His command is heard: "Now fire!"
The assaulters then were welcomed
With a well-aimed thundering volley,
And they fled in all directions;
Like a swarm of crows dispersing,
When the hail-shot flies among them.
And not few of them had fallen.
'Neath an apple-tree was lying
By the shore one who spoke feebly
To a comrade passing by him:
"Greet from me my poor old mother,
Also my Verena Frommherz.
Say, she can with a good conscience
Marry the tall Uickerhans now.
For, poor Seppli here is staining
The white sand with his true heart's blood!"
Whilst this happened by the town-gate,
Some were trying if the city
Could be entered by a back-way.
On the Rhine below were lying
Fishing-boats beside a cabin,
Where in traps they caught the salmon.
There another crowd streamed onward.
An audacious lad from Karsau
Led them; for, he knew each byway
Near the river, and had often
Many fish at night-time stolen
From the nets of other people.
In three fishing-boats, well manned, thence
Were they rowing up the river.
Willow-trees and heavy brushwood,
And a bend there in the river
Saved them from discovery.
Where the garden of the castle
On arched walls is far projecting
O'er the Rhine, they stopped their barges,
And quite easy was the landing.
On the roof of the pavilion
Which once Fludribus had painted
Sat the black cat Hiddigeigei.
With surprise the worthy cat saw
Spear-heads far below him glistening;
Saw a man, too, upward climbing
On the stone wall, tightly holding
With his teeth a shining sabre;
And how others followed after.
Growling said then Hiddigeigei:
"Best for a wise cat it would be
Ever to remain quite neutral
To man's foolish acts of daring;
But I hate these boorish peasants,
Hate the smell of cows and stables.
If they triumph, woe to Europe;
For, it would destroy completely
The fine atmosphere of culture.
Now look out below, you fellows!
Since the geese by cries of warning
Saved the Capitol of Rome once,
Animals are taking interest
In the history of the world."
Up he sprang in furious anger,
Curved his back, his hair all bristling,
And commenced a caterwauling
Fit to take away one's hearing.
On the jutting turret standing.
Faithful Anton heard this wauling,
And involuntarily looking
Toward that way: "Good heaven!" said he,
"In the garden is the enemy."
Quick his signal-shot brought other
Men-at-arms, along with Werner,
Who placed quickly his few fighters:
"Stand thou here--thou there--don't hurry
With your fire!" His heart beat wildly:
"Ha, my sword, maintain thy valour!"
Shallow was the castle's moat then,
Well-nigh dry, and 'mid the rushes
Glisten many swords and spear-heads.
Daring men are climbing upward
O'er the tower's crumbling stone-work.
Muskets cracking, arrows flying.
Axe-strokes 'gainst the gate are ringing,
Everywhere attack, and shouting:
"Castle thou wilt soon be taken!"
And between, the fall of bodies
In the moat is heard--much blood flows.
By the gate cries out young Werner:
"Well done, Anton! Now take aim at
That dark fellow on thy left hand;
I'll attend unto the other.
Steady now! They are retreating!"
Thus the first attack proved fruitless,
And with bloody heads drew back now
The assaulters, seeking shelter,
'Midst the chestnut-trees' dense thicket.
Scornful words now reach the castle:
"Coward knights, faint-hearted servants,
Keep behind the walls, protected.
Just come out to honest combat
If you've courage." "Death and Devil!"
Werner shouted. "Let the bridge down!
Spears at rest! Now onward!--Mock us?
In the Rhine with these damned scoundrels!"
Down the bridge fell rattling loudly;
Far ahead went Werner rushing,
Right into the crowd; ran over
Just the fellow who did guide them.
"When the sword gets dull, thou rascal,
With my fist alone I'll kill thee."
In the crowd he sees a sturdy
Soldier, with a weather-beaten
Face, bold and defiant-looking.
He had served with Wallenstein once,
And now fought for these mean peasants
From mere love of strife and bloodshed.
"Taste my steel now, gray old warrior,"
Cried young Werner, as his sword swung
Whizzing through the air to strike him.
But the soldier's halberd parried
Werner's stroke: "Not badly done, lad!
Here my answer!" Blood was dripping
From young Werner's locks; his forehead
Showed a deep wound from the halberd.
But the one who swung it, never
Gave a second stroke; his own throat,
Where by armour not protected,
Being cut by Werner's weapon.
Three steps backward then he staggered
Sinking: "Devil, stir thy fire!
Hast me now!" Dead lay the soldier.
Werner, thy young life guard well now!
Raging were the peasants, thronging
In great crowds around this handful.
'Gainst a chestnut-tree now leaning
Weak, but still his life defending,
Stood young Werner; round him rallied,
Brave and faithful, all the servants.
Save him, God! The wound is bleeding,
From his hand the sword falls slowly,
Dimmed his eyes are, and the enemy
At his gory breast is aiming.
Then--all may go well yet--
From the castle rings distinctly,
As if for a charge, the trumpet;
Then a shot--one falls; a volley
Follows. "Onward!" so the Baron
Now commands, and wildly flying
Tear the peasants to the Rhine.
Cheer up, Werner, friends are coming,
And with them comes Margaretta!
When the fight below was raging,
To the terrace she ascended,
And she blew--herself not knowing
Why she did it--in the anguish
Of her soul, the battle signal
Used in the Imperial army.
Which she'd learned in happy moments
In the honeysuckle-arbour.
It was heard by those returning
With the Baron from the town-gate;
And the maiden's war-cry made them
Hurry quickly to the rescue
Of those fighting in the garden.
Woman's heart, so gentle, timid,
What gave thee such courage then?
"God, he lives!" she bent now softly
Over him who 'neath the chestnuts
There on the green sward was lying,
Stroked the fair locks, lank and bloody,
From his brow: "Hast fought right bravely!"
Half unconscious gazed young Werner;
Did he then behold a vision?
Closed his eyes, and on two muskets
To the castle he was borne.
TWELFTH PART.
YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA.
In the castle's chapel dimly
Was a flickering lamp-light burning,
Shining on the altar-picture,
Whence the Queen of Heaven looked down
With a gracious pitying smile,
'Neath the picture hung fresh gathered
Roses and geranium-garlands.
Kneeling there prayed Margaretta:
"Sorely tried one, full of mercy!
Thou who givest us protection,
Care for him who badly wounded
Lies now on a bed of anguish;
And bestow on me forgiveness
If thou thinkst it very sinful
That he fills my thoughts alone."
Hope and trust their light were shedding
In her heart as thus she prayed.
And more cheerful Margaretta
Now ascended up the staircase.
On the threshold of the sick-room
Was the gray old doctor standing,
And he beckoned her to come there.
Judging what most likely would be
The first question she would ask him,
He then said with voice half muffled:
"Fear no more, my gracious lady;
Fresh young blood and youthful vigour
From such wounds not long can suffer,
And already gentle slumber,
Messenger of health, doth soothe him.
He to-day can take an airing."
Spoke and left; for, his attention
Many wounded men were craving,
And he hated useless gossip.
Softly entered Margaretta
Now the sick-room of young Werner,
Bashful and yet curious whether
All was true the doctor told her.
Gently slumbering lay young Werner,
Pale in youthful beauty, looking
Like a statue. As if dreaming,
He lay holding, o'er his forehead
And his healing wound, his right hand,
As one who from glaring sunlight
Wishes to protect his eyes;
Round his lips a smile was playing.
Long on him gazed Margaretta--
Long and longer. Thus in old times
In the forest of Mount Ida
Gazed the goddess, fair Diana,
On Endymion the sleeper.
Pity held her eye a captive;
Ah, and pity is a fruitful
Soil for love's sweet plant to grow in.
From a tiny seed 'tis spreading
In this ground so rich and fertile,
Which it permeates completely
With its thousand fibrous rootlets.
Thrice already Margaretta
To the door her way had wended,
But as many times returning
She at last approached the bedside.
On the table stood a cooling
Potion, medicines in bottles;
But she neither touched the cooling
Potion nor the other bottles.
Timidly she bent there o'er him,
Timidly and hardly breathing,
Lest her breath might wake the sleeper.
Long she gazed at his closed eyelids
And involuntarily stooping,
With her lips--But who interprets
All the strange mysterious actions
Of a first sweet loving passion?
Well-nigh can my song conjecture
That she really wished to kiss him;
But she did not; startled sighing,
Turned abruptly--like a timid
Fawn she hurried from the chamber.
Like a man who, long accustomed
To the gloom and damp of dungeons,
Seems bewildered when beholding,
For the first time free fair Nature:
"Hast thou not, O sun, grown brighter?
Has the sky not deeper colours?"
And his eyes are nearly dazzled
By the light so long denied him:
Thus returns the convalescent
Once again to life and vigour.
Fresher, warmer, rosier visions
Rise before his raptured glances,
Which he greets with fond rejoicing.
"World, how fair thou art!" was also
Dropping from the lips of Werner,
As on the broad steps he slowly
Now descended to the garden.
Leaning on his staff, he stood long
Quiet, basking in the sunbeams
Playing o'er the fragrant flowers,
Drew a long breath, and then slowly
Stepped upon the garden-terrace.
On the stone-seat in the sunshine
He sat down now. Bees were humming,
Butterflies were lightly flying
'Mid the verdant chestnut-branches,
Out and in, like tavern-goers.
Green, pellucid, gently rushing,
Bore the Rhine its waters onward;
And a pine-raft filled with people,
Snake-like, swiftly sped toward Basel.
Near the shore, up to his knees stood
In the river there a fisher,
Singing gently to himself thus:
"Peasant comes with spears and muskets,
Peasant storms the forest-city,
Peasant will now fight with Austria:
Peasant! you will find that will
Make much heavier the bill;
Take your purse and pay the joke!
Seven florins seemed too much then,
One-and-twenty must thou pay now.
Soldiers quartered are dear guests too;
Then the plaisters from the surgeons:
Peasant! you will find that will
Make much heavier the bill;
Take your purse and pay the joke!"
Gaily gazed young Werner o'er the
Lovely landscape and the river;
But he stopped his contemplations.
On the wall with sunlight flooded
He beheld a shadow gliding,
As of curls and flowing garments--
Well did Werner know this shadow.
Through the shrubbery came smiling
Margaretta; she was watching
Hiddigeigei's graceful gambols,
Who then in the garden-arbour
With a wee white mouse was playing.
With his velvet paws he held it
Tight, and like a gracious sovereign
Looked down on his trembling captive.
From his seat rose up young Werner
Bowing lowly and with reverence.
Over Margaretta's cheeks spread
Ever-changing rosy blushes.
"Master Werner, may God bless you,
And how are you? You were silent
Such a long time, so with pleasure
Shall I hear your voice once more."