Is likewise surely true;
Yet fear not, I entreat thee,
He'll harm no hair of you."
Thus were they going forward talking, when another person in the forest
met them; it was Wolfram, the Duke's Squire, who had long been looking
for his master. The dark night was still lying over them, and no star
twinkled from between the wet black clouds. The Duke felt weaker, and
longed to reach some lodging, where he might sleep till day; besides, he
was afraid that he might meet with Eckart, who stood like a spectre
before his soul. He imagined he should never see the morning; and
shuddered anew when the wind again rustled through the high trees, and
the storm came down from the hollows of the mountains, and went rushing
over his head. "Wolfram," cried the Duke, in his anguish, "climb one of
these tall pines, and look about if thou canst spy no light, no house or
cottage, whither we may turn."
The Squire, at the hazard of his life, clomb up a lofty pine, which the
storm was waving from the one side to the other, and ever and anon
bending down the top of it to the very ground; so that the Squire
wavered to and fro upon it like a little squirrel. At last he reached
the top, and cried: "Down there, in the valley, I see the glimmer of a
candle; thither must we turn." So he descended and showed the way; and
in a while, they all perceived the cheerful light; at which the Duke
once more took heart. Eckart still continued mute, and occupied within
himself; he spoke no word, and looked at his inward thoughts. On
arriving at the hut, they knocked; and a little old housewife let them
in: as they entered, the stout Eckart set the Duke down from his
shoulders, who threw himself immediately upon his knees, and in a
fervent prayer thanked God for his deliverance. Eckart took his seat in
a dark corner; and there he found fast asleep the poor old man, who had
lately told him of his great misery about his sons, and the search he
was making for them.
When the Duke had done praying, he said: "Very strange have my thoughts
been this night, and the goodness of God and his almighty power never
showed themselves so openly before to my obdurate heart: my mind also
tells me that I have not long to live; and I desire nothing save that
God would pardon me my manifold and heavy sins. You two, also, who have
led me hither, I could wish to recompense, so far as in my power, before
my end arrive. To thee, Wolfram, I give both the castles that are on
these hills beside us; and in future, in remembrance of this awful
night, thou shalt call them the Tannenhaeuser, or Pine-houses. But who
art thou, strange man," continued he, "that hast placed thyself there in
the nook, apart? Come forth, that I may also pay thee for thy toil."
Then rose the hero from his place,
And stept into the light before them;
Deep lines of woe were on his face,
But with a patient mind he bore them.
And Burgundy, his heart forsook him,
To see that mild old gray-hair'd man;
His face grew pale, a trembling took him,
He swoon'd and sank to earth again.
"O, saints of heaven," he wakes and cries,
"Is't thou that art before my eyes?
How shall I fly? Where shall I hide me?
Was't thou that in the wood didst guide me?
I kill'd thy children young and fair,
Me in thy arms how couldst thou bear?"
Thus Burgundy goes on to wail,
And feels the heart within him fail;
Death is at hand, remorse pursues him,
With streaming eyes he sinks on Eckart's bosom;
And Eckart whispers to him low:
"Henceforth I have forgot the slight,
So thou and all the world may know,
Eckart was still thy trusty knight."
Thus passed the hours till morning, when some other servants of the Duke
arrived, and found their dying master. They laid him on a mule, and took
him back to his castle. Eckart he could not suffer from his side; he
would often take his hand and press it to his breast, and look at him
with an imploring look. Then Eckart would embrace him, and speak a few
kind words to him, and so the Prince would feel composed. At last he
summoned all his Council, and declared to them that he appointed Eckart,
the trusty man, to be guardian of his sons, seeing he had proved himself
the noblest of all. And thus he died.
Thenceforward Eckart took on him the government with all zeal; and every
person in the land admired his high manly spirit. Not long afterwards a
rumour spread abroad in all quarters, of a strange Musician, who had
come from Venus-Hill, who was travelling through the whole land, and
seducing men with his playing, so that they disappeared, and no one
could find any traces of them. Many credited the story, others not;
Eckart recollected the unhappy old man.
"I have taken you for my sons," said he to the young Princes, as he once
stood with them on the hill before the Castle; "your happiness must now
be my posterity; when dead, I shall still live in your joy." They lay
down on the slope, from which the fair country was visible for many a
league; and here Eckart had to guard himself from speaking of his
children; for they seemed as if coming towards him from the distant
mountains, while he heard afar off a lovely sound.
"Comes it not like dreams
Stealing o'er the vales and streams?
Out of regions far from this,
Like the song of souls in bliss?"
This to the youths did Eckart say,
And caught the sound from far away;
And as the magic tones came nigher,
A wicked strange desire
Awakens in the breasts of these pure boys,
That drives them forth to seek for unknown joys.
"Come, let's to the fields, to the meadows and mountains,
The forests invite us, the streams and the fountains;
Soft voices in secret for loitering chide us,
Away to the Garden of Pleasure they'll guide us."
The Player comes in foreign guise,
Appears before their wondering eyes;
And higher swells the music's sound,
And brighter glows the emerald ground;
The flowers appear as drunk,
Twilight red has on them sunk;
And through the green grass play, with airy lightness,
Soft, fitful, blue and golden streaks of brightness.
Like a shadow, melts and flits away
All that bound men to this world of clay;
In Earth all toil and tumult cease,
Like one bright flower it blooms in peace;
The mountains rock in purple light,
The valleys shout as with delight;
All rush and whirl in the music's noise,
And long to share of these offer'd joys;
The soul of man is allured to gladness,
And lies entranced in that blissful madness.
The Trusty Eckart felt it,
But wist not of the cause;
His heart the music melted,
He wondered what it was.
The world seems new and fairer,
All blooming like the rose;
Can Eckart be a sharer
In raptures such as those?
"Ha! Are those tones restoring
My wife and bonny sons?
All that I was deploring,
My lost beloved ones?"
Yet soon his sense collected
Brought doubt within his breast;
These hellish arts detected,
A horror him possessed.
And now he sees the raging
Of his young princes dear;
Themselves to Hell engaging,
His voice no more they hear.
And forth, in wild commotion,
They rush, not knowing where;
In tumult like the ocean,
When mad his billows are.
Then, as these things assail'd him,
He wist not what to do;
His knighthood almost fail'd him
Amid that hellish crew.
Then to his soul appeareth
The hour the Duke did die;
His friend's faint prayer he heareth,
He sees his fading eye.
And so his mind's in armour,
And hope is conquering fear;
When see, the fiendish Charmer
Himself comes piping near!
His sword to draw he essayeth,
And smite the caitiff dead;
But as the music playeth,
His strength is from him fled.
And from the mountains issue
Crowds of distorted forms,
Of Dwarfs a boundless tissue
Come simmering round in swarms.
The youths, possess'd, are running
As frantic in the crowd:
In vain is force or cunning;
In vain to call aloud.
And hurries on by castle,
By tower and town, the rout;
Like imps in hellish wassail,
With cackling laugh and shout.
He too is in the rabble;
May not resist their force,
Must hear their deafening babble,
Attend their frantic course.
But now the Hill appeareth,
And music comes thereout;
And as the Phantoms hear it,
They halt, and raise a shout.
The Mountain starts asunder,
A motley crowd is seen;
This way and that they wander,
In red unearthly sheen.
Then his broad-sword he drew it,
And says: "Still true, though lost!"
And with mad force he heweth
Through that Infernal host.
His youths he sees (how gladly!)
Escaping through the vale;
The Fiends are fighting madly,
And threatening to prevail.
The Dwarfs, when hurt, fly downward,
And rise up cured again;
And other crowds rush onward,
And fight with might and main.
Then saw he from a distance
The children safe, and cried:
"They need not my assistance,
I care not what betide."
His good broad-sword doth glitter
And flash i' th' noontide ray;
The Dwarfs, with wailing bitter,
And howls, depart away.
Safe at the valley's ending,
The youths far off he spies;
Then faint and wounded, bending,
The hero falls and dies.
So his last hour o'ertook him,
Fighting like lion brave;
His truth, it ne'er forsook him,
He was faithful to the grave.
Now Eckart having perish'd,
The eldest son bore sway;
His memory still he cherish'd,
With grateful heart would say:
"From foes and wreck to save me,
Like lion grim he fought;
My throne, my life, he gave me,
And with his heart's blood bought."
And soon a wondrous rumour
The country round did fill,
That when a desp'rate humour
Doth send one to the Hill,
There straight a Shape will meet him,
The Trusty Eckart's ghost,
And wistfully entreat him
To turn, and not be lost.
There he, though dead, yet ever
True watch and ward doth hold;
Upon the Earth shall never
Be man so true and bold.
PART II.
More than four centuries had elapsed since the Trusty Eckart's death,
when a noble Tannenhaeuser, in the station of Imperial Counsellor, was
living at Court in the highest estimation. The son of this knight
surpassed in beauty all the other nobles of the land, and on this
account was loved and prized by every one. Suddenly, however, after some
mysterious incidents had been observed to happen to him, the young man
disappeared; and no one knew or guessed what was become of him. Since
the times of the Trusty Eckart, there had always been a story current in
the land about the Venus-Hill; and many said that he had wandered
thither, and was lost forever.
One of those that most lamented him was his young friend Friedrich von
Wolfsburg. They had grown up together, and their mutual attachment
seemed to each of them to have become a necessary of life.
Tannenhaeuser's old father died: Friedrich married some years afterwards;
already was a ring of merry children round him, and still he heard no
tidings of his youthful friend; so that, in the end, he was forced to
conclude him dead.
He was standing one evening under the gate of his Castle, when he
perceived afar off a pilgrim travelling towards the mansion. The
wayfaring man was clad in a strange garb; and his gait and gestures the
Knight thought extremely singular. On his approaching nearer, Wolfsburg
thought that he knew him; and at last he became convinced that the
stranger was no other than his long-lost friend, the Tannenhaeuser. He
felt amazed, and a secret horror took possession of him, as he
recognised distinctly these much-altered features.
The two friends embraced; then started back next moment; and gazed
astonished at each other as at unknown beings. Of questions, of
perplexed replies, were many. Friedrich often shuddered at the wild look
of his friend, which seemed to burn as with unearthly light. The
Tannenhaeuser had reposed himself a day or two, when Friedrich learned
that he was on a pilgrimage to Rome.
The two friends by and by renewed their former intimacy; took up their
old topics, and told stories to each other of their youth; but the
Tannenhaeuser always carefully concealed where he had been since then.
Friedrich, however, pressed him to disclose it, now that they were once
more on their ancient confidential footing: the other long endeavoured
to ward off the friendly prayer; but at last he exclaimed: "Well, be it
so; thy will be done! Thou shalt know all; but cast no reproaches on me
after, should the story fill thee with inquietude and horror."
They went into the open air, and walked a little in a green wood of the
pleasure-grounds, where at last they sat down; and now the Tannenhaeuser
hid his face among the grass, and, with loud sobs, held back his right
hand to his friend, who pressed it tenderly in his. The woe-worn pilgrim
raised himself, and began his story in the following words:
"Believe me, Wolfsburg, many a man has, at his birth, an Evil Spirit
linked to him, that vexes him through life, and never lets him rest,
till he has reached his black destination. So has it been with me; my
whole existence has been but a continuing birth-pain, and my awakening
will be in Hell. For this have I already wandered so many weary steps,
and have so many yet before me on the pilgrimage which I am making to
the Holy Father, that I may endeavour to obtain forgiveness at Rome. In
his presence will I lay down the heavy burden of my sins; or fall
beneath it, and die despairing."
Friedrich attempted to console him, but the Tannenhaeuser seemed to pay
little heed to what he said; and, after a short while, he proceeded in
the following words: "There is an old legend of a Knight who is said to
have lived many centuries ago, under the name of the Trusty Eckart. They
tell how, in those days, a Musician issued from some marvellous Hill;
and, by his magic tones, awoke in the hearts of all that heard him so
deep a longing, such wild wishes, that he led them irresistibly along
with his music, and forced them to rush in with him to the Hill. Hell
had then opened wide her gates to poor mortals, and enticed them in with
seductive music. In boyhood I often heard this story, and at first
without particularly minding it; yet ere long it so took hold of me,
that all Nature, every sound, every flower, recalled to me the story of
these heart-subduing tones. I cannot tell thee what a sadness, what an
unutterable longing used to seize me, when I looked on the driving of
the clouds, and saw the light lordly blue peering out between them; or
what remembrances the meadows and the woods would awaken in my deepest
heart. Oftentimes the loveliness and fulness of royal Nature so affected
me, that I stretched out my arms, as if to fly away with wings; that I
might pour myself out like the Spirit of Nature over mountain and
valley; that I might brood over grass and forest, and inhale the riches
of her blessedness. And if by day the free landscape charmed me, by
night dark dreaming fantasies tormented me; and set themselves in
louring grimness before me, as if to shut up my path of life forever.
Above all, there was one dream that left an ineffaceable impression on
my feelings, though I never could distinctly call the forms of it to
memory. Methought there was a vast tumult in the streets; I heard
confused unintelligible speaking; it was dark night; I went to my
parents' house; none but my father was there, and he sick. Next morning
I clasped my parents in my arms, and pressed them with melting
tenderness to my breast, as if some hostile power had been about to tear
them from me. 'Am I to lose thee?' said I to my father. 'O! how wretched
and lonely were I without thee in this world!' They tried to comfort me,
but could not wipe away the dim image from my remembrance.
"I grew older, still keeping myself apart from other boys of my age. I
often roamed solitary through the fields: and it happened one morning,
in my rambles, that I had lost my way; and so was wandering to and fro
in a thick wood, not knowing whither to turn. After long seeking vainly
for a road, I at last on a sudden came upon an iron-grated fence, within
which lay a garden. Through the bars, I saw fair shady walks before me;
fruit-trees and flowers; and close by me were rose-bushes glittering in
the sun. A nameless longing for these roses seized me; I could not help
rushing on; I pressed myself by force through between the bars, and was
now standing in the garden. Immediately I sank on my knees; clasped the
bushes in my arms; kissed the roses on their red lips, and melted into
tears. I had knelt a while, absorbed in a sort of rapture, when there
came two maidens through the alleys; the one of my own years, the other
elder. I awoke from my trance, to fall into a higher ecstasy. My eye
lighted on the younger, and I felt at this moment as if all my unknown
woe was healed. They took me to the house; their parents, having learned
my name, sent notice to my father, who, in the evening, came himself,
and brought me back.
"From this day, the uncertain current of my life had got a fixed
direction; my thoughts forever hastened back to the castle and the
maiden; for here, it seemed to me, was the home of all my wishes. I
forgot my customary pleasures, I forsook my playmates, and often
visited the garden, the castle and Emma. Here I had, in a little time,
grown, as it were, an inmate of the house, so that they no longer
thought it strange to see me; and Emma was becoming dearer to me every
day. Thus passed my hours; and a tenderness had taken my heart captive,
though I myself was not aware of it. My whole destination seemed to me
fulfilled; I had no wish but still to come again; and when I went away,
to have the same prospect for the morrow.
"Matters were in this state, when a young knight became acquainted in
the family; he was a friend of my parents; and he soon, like me,
attached himself to Emma. I hated him, from that moment, as my deadly
enemy; but nothing can describe my feelings, when I fancied I perceived
that Emma liked him more than me. From this hour, it was as if the
music, which had hitherto accompanied me, went silent in my bosom. I
meditated but on death and hatred; wild thoughts now awoke in my breast,
when Emma sang her well-known songs to her lute. Nor did I hide the
aversion which I felt; and when my parents tried to reason and
remonstrate with me, I grew fierce and contradictory.
"I now roved about the woods and rocky wastes, infuriated against
myself. The death of my rival was a thing I had determined on. The young
knight, after some few months, made a formal offer of himself to the
parents of my mistress, and she was betrothed to him. All that was rare
and beautiful in Nature, all that had charmed me in her magnificence,
had been united in my soul with Emma's image; I fancied, knew or wished
for no other happiness but Emma; nay I had wilfully determined that the
day, which brought the loss of her, should also bring my own
destruction.
"My parents sorrowed in heart at such perversion; my mother had fallen
sick, but I paid no heed to this; her situation gave me little trouble,
and I saw her seldom. The wedding-day of my enemy was coming on; and
with its approach increased the agony of mind which drove me over woods
and mountains. I execrated Emma and myself with the most horrid curses.
At this time I had no friend; no man would take any charge of me, for
all had given me up for lost.
"The fearful marriage-eve came on. I had wandered deep among the cliffs,
I heard the rushing of the forest-streams below; I often shuddered at
myself. When the morning came, I saw my enemy proceeding down the
mountains; I assailed him with injurious speeches; he replied; we drew
our swords, and he soon fell beneath my furious strokes.
"I hastened on, not looking after him, but his attendants took the
corpse away. At night, I hovered round the dwelling which enclosed my
Emma; and a few days afterwards, I heard in the neighbouring cloister
the sound of the funeral-bell, and the grave-song of the nuns. I
inquired; and was told that Fraeulein Emma, out of sorrow for her
bridegroom's death, was dead.
"I could stay no longer; I doubted whether I was living, whether it was
all truth or not. I hastened back to my parents; and came next night, at
a late hour, to the town where they lived. Here all was in confusion;
horses and military wagons filled the streets, soldiers were jostling
one another this way and that, and speaking in disordered haste: the
Emperor was on the point of undertaking a campaign against his enemies.
A solitary light was burning in my father's house when I entered; a
strangling oppression lay upon my breast. As I knocked, my father
himself, with slow, thoughtful steps, advanced to meet me; and
immediately I recollected the old dream of my childhood; and felt, with
cutting emotion, that now it was receiving its fulfilment. In
perplexity, I asked: 'Why are you up so late, Father?' He led me in, and
said: 'I may well be up, for thy mother is even now dead.'
"His words struck through my soul like thunderbolts. He took a seat with
a meditative air; I sat down beside him. The corpse was lying in a bed,
and strangely wound in linen. My heart was like to burst. 'I wake here,'
said the old man, 'for my wife is still sitting by me.' My senses
failed; I fixed my eyes upon a corner; and, after a little while, there
rose, as it were, a vapour; it mounted and wavered; and the well-known
figure of my mother gathered itself visibly together from the midst of
it, and looked at me with an earnest mien. I wished to go, but I could
not; for the form of my mother beckoned to me, and my father held me in
his arms, and whispered to me, in a low voice: 'She died of grief for
thee.' I embraced him with a childlike transport of affection; I poured
burning tears on his breast. He kissed me; and I shuddered; for his
lips, as they touched me, were cold, like the lips of one dead. 'How art
thou, Father?' cried I, in horror. He writhed painfully together, and
made no reply. In a few moments, I felt him growing colder; I laid my
hand on his heart, but it was still; and, in wailing delirium, I held
the body fast clasped in my embrace.
"As it were a gleam, like the first streak of dawn, went through the
dark room; and behold, the spirit of my father sat beside my mother's
form; and both looked at me compassionately, as I held the dear corpse
in my arms. After this my consciousness was over: exhausted and
delirious, the servants found me next morning in the chamber of the
dead."
So far the Tannenhaeuser had proceeded with his narrative: Friedrich was
listening to him with the deepest astonishment, when all on a sudden he
broke off, and paused with an expression of the keenest pain. Friedrich
felt embarrassed and immersed in thought; they both returned in company
to the Castle, but stayed in the same room apart from others.