remembrance of those hours still agitates me deeply; I understand not
how I have survived them. The world, and its life, now appeared to me as
if dead and utterly desolate; without thoughts or wishes I lived on from
day to day. I then became acquainted with a set of wild young people;
and endeavoured, in the whirl of pleasure and intoxication, to lay the
tumultuous Evil Spirit that was in me. My ancient burning impatience
again awoke; and I could no longer understand myself or my wishes. A
debauchee, named Rudolf, had become my confidant; he, however, always
laughed to scorn my longings and complaints. About a year had passed in
this way, when my misery of spirit rose to desperation; there was
something drove me onwards, onwards, into unknown space; I could have
dashed myself down from the high mountains into the glowing green of the
meadows, into the cool rushing of the waters, to slake the burning
thirst, to stay the insatiability of my soul: I longed for annihilation;
and again, like golden morning clouds, did hope and love of life arise
before me, and entice me on. The thought then struck me, that Hell was
hungering for me, and was sending me my sorrows as well as my pleasures
to destroy me; that some malignant Spirit was directing all the powers
of my soul to the Infernal Abode; and leading me, as with a bridle, to
my doom. And I surrendered to him; that so these torments, these
alternating raptures and agonies, might leave me. In the darkest night,
I mounted a lofty hill; and called on the Enemy of God and man, with all
the energies of my heart, so that I felt he would be forced to hear me.
My words brought him: he stood suddenly before me, and I felt no horror.
Then in talking with him, the belief in that strange Hill again rose
within me; and he taught me a Song, which of itself would lead me by the
straight road thither. He disappeared, and for the first time since I
had begun to live, I was alone with myself; for I now understood my
wandering thoughts, which rushed as from a centre to find out another
world. I set forth on my journey; and the Song, which I sang with a loud
voice, led me over strange deserts; but all other things besides myself
I had forgotten. There was something carrying me, as on the strong wings
of desire, to my home: I wished to escape the shadow which, amid the
sunshine, threatens us; the wild tones which, amid the softest music,
chide us. So travelling on, I reached the Mountain, one night when the
moon was shining faintly from behind dim clouds. I proceeded with my
Song; and a giant form stood by me, and beckoned me back with his staff.
I went nearer: 'I am the Trusty Eckart,' said the superhuman figure; 'by
God's goodness, I am placed here as watchman, to warn men back from
their sinful rashness.'--I pressed through.
"My path was now as in a subterraneous mine. The passage was so narrow,
that I had to press myself along; I caught the gurgling of hidden
waters; I heard spirits forming ore, and gold and silver, to entice the
soul of man; I found here concealed and separate the deep sounds and
tones from which earthly music springs: the farther I went, the more did
there fall, as it were, a veil from my sight.
"I rested, and saw other forms of men come gliding towards me; my friend
Rudolf was among the number. I could not understand how they were to
pass me, so narrow was the way; but they went along, through the middle
of the rock, without perceiving me.
"Anon I heard the sound of music; but music altogether different from
any that had ever struck my ear before. My thoughts within me strove
towards the notes: I came into an open space; and strange radiant
colours glittered on me from every side. This it was that I had always
been in search of. Close to my heart I felt the presence of the
long-sought, now-discovered glory; and its ravishments thrilled into me
with all their power. And then the whole crowd of jocund Pagan gods came
forth to meet me, Lady Venus at their head, and all saluted me. They
have been banished thither by the power of the Almighty; their worship
is abolished from the Earth; and now they work upon us from their
concealment.
"All pleasures that Earth affords I here possessed and partook of in
their fullest bloom; insatiable was my heart, and endless my enjoyment.
The famed Beauties of the ancient world were present; what my thought
coveted was mine; one delirium of rapture was followed by another; and
day after day, the world appeared to burn round me in more glorious
hues. Streams of the richest wine allayed my fierce thirst; and
beauteous forms sported in the air, and soft eyes invited me; vapours
rose enchanting around my head: as if from the inmost heart of blissful
Nature, came a music and cooled with its fresh waves the wild tumult of
desire; and a horror, that glided faint and secret over the rose-fields,
heightened the delicious revel. How many years passed over me in this
abode I know not: for here there was no time and no distinctions; the
flowers here glowed with the charms of women; and in the forms of the
women bloomed the magic of flowers; colours here had another language;
the whole world of sense was bound together into one blossom, and the
spirits within it forever held their rejoicing.
"Now, how it happened, I can neither say nor comprehend; but so it was,
that in all this pomp of sin, a love of rest, a longing for the old
innocent Earth, with her scanty joys, took hold of me here, as keenly as
of old the impulse which had driven me hither. I was again drawn on to
live that life which men, in their unconsciousness, go on leading: I was
sated with this splendour, and gladly sought my former home once more.
An unspeakable grace of the Almighty permitted my return; I found myself
suddenly again in the world; and now it is my intention to pour out my
guilty breast before the chair of our Holy Father in Rome; that so he
may forgive me, and I may again be reckoned among men."
The Tannenhaeuser ceased; and Friedrich long viewed him with an
investigating look, then took his hand, and said: "I cannot yet recover
from my wonder, nor can I understand thy narrative; for it is impossible
that all thou hast told me can be aught but an imagination. Emma still
lives, she is my wife; thou and I never quarrelled, or hated one
another, as thou thinkest: yet before our marriage, thou wert gone on a
sudden from the neighbourhood; nor didst thou ever tell me, by a single
hint, that Emma was dear to thee."
Hereupon he took the bewildered Tannenhaeuser by the hand, and led him
into another room to his wife, who had just then returned from a visit
to her sister, which had kept her for the last few days from home. The
Tannenhaeuser spoke not, and seemed immersed in thought; he viewed in
silence the form and face of the lady, then shook his head, and said:
"By Heaven, that is the strangest incident of all!"
Friedrich, with precision and connectedness, related all that had
befallen him since that time; and tried to make his friend perceive that
it had been some singular madness which had, in the mean while, harassed
him. "I know very well how it stands," exclaimed the Tannenhaeuser. "It
is now that I am crazy; and Hell has cast this juggling show before me,
that I may not go to Rome, and seek the pardon of my sins."
Emma tried to bring his childhood to his recollection; but the
Tannenhaeuser would not be persuaded. He speedily set out on his journey;
that he might the sooner get his absolution from the Pope.
Friedrich and Emma often spoke of the mysterious pilgrim. Some months
had gone by, when the Tannenhaeuser, pale and wasted, in a tattered
pilgrim's dress, and barefoot, one morning entered Friedrich's chamber,
while the latter was in bed asleep. He kissed his lips, and then said,
in breathless haste: "The Holy Father cannot, and will not, forgive me;
I must back to my old dwelling." And with this he went hurriedly away.
Friedrich roused himself; but the ill-fated pilgrim was already gone. He
went to his lady's room; and her maids rushed out to meet him, crying
that the Tannenhaeuser had pressed into the apartment early in the
morning, with the words: "She shall not obstruct me in my course!"--Emma
was lying murdered.
Friedrich had not yet recalled his thoughts, when a horror came over
him: he could not rest; he ran into the open air. They wished to keep
him back; but he told them that the pilgrim had kissed his lips, and
that the kiss was burning him till he found the man again. And so, with
inconceivable rapidity, he ran away to seek the Tannenhaeuser, and the
mysterious Hill; and, since that day, he was never seen any more. People
say, that whoever gets a kiss from any emissary of the Hill, is
thenceforth unable to withstand the lure that draws him with magic force
into the subterraneous chasm.
THE RUNENBERG.
A young hunter was sitting in the heart of the Mountains, in a
thoughtful mood, beside his fowling-floor, while the noise of the waters
and the woods was sounding through the solitude. He was musing on his
destiny; how he was so young, and had forsaken his father and mother,
and accustomed home, and all his comrades in his native village, to seek
out new acquaintances, to escape from the circle of returning habitude;
and he looked up with a sort of surprise that he was here, that he found
himself in this valley, in this employment. Great clouds were passing
over him, and sinking behind the mountains; birds were singing from the
bushes, and an echo was replying to them. He slowly descended the hill;
and seated himself on the margin of a brook, that was gushing down among
the rocks with foamy murmur. He listened to the fitful melody of the
water; and it seemed to him as if the waves were saying to him, in
unintelligible words, a thousand things that concerned him nearly; and
he felt an inward trouble that he could not understand their speeches.
Then again he looked aloft, and thought that he was glad and happy; so
he took new heart, and sang aloud this hunting-song:
Blithe and cheery through the mountains
Goes the huntsman to the chase,
By the lonesome shady fountains,
Till he finds the red-deer's trace.
Hark! his trusty dogs are baying
Through the bright-green solitude;
Through the groves the horns are playing:
O, thou merry gay green wood!
In some dell, when luck hath blest him,
And his shot hath stretch'd the deer,
Lies he down, content, to rest him,
While the brooks are murmuring clear.
Leave the husbandman his sowing,
Let the shipman sail the sea;
None, when bright the morn is glowing,
Sees its red so fair as he,
Wood and wold and game that prizes,
While Diana loves his art;
And, at last, some bright face rises:
Happy huntsman that thou art!
Whilst he sung, the sun had sunk deeper, and broad shadows fell across
the narrow glen. A cooling twilight glided over the ground; and now only
the tops of the trees, and the round summits of the mountains, were
gilded by the glow of evening. Christian's heart grew sadder and sadder:
he could not think of going back to his birdfold, and yet he could not
stay; he felt himself alone, and longed to meet with men. He now
remembered with regret those old books, which he used to see at home,
and would never read, often as his father had advised him to it: the
habitation of his childhood came before him, his sports with the youth
of the village, his acquaintances among the children, the school that
had afflicted him so much; and he wished he were again amid these
scenes, which he had wilfully forsaken, to seek his fortune in unknown
regions, in the mountains, among strange people, in a new employment.
Meanwhile it grew darker; and the brook rushed louder; and the birds of
night began to shoot, with fitful wing, along their mazy courses.
Christian still sat disconsolate, and immersed in sad reflection; he was
like to weep, and altogether undecided what to do or purpose.
Unthinkingly, he pulled a straggling root from the earth; and on the
instant, heard, with affright, a stifled moan underground, which winded
downwards in doleful tones, and died plaintively away in the deep
distance. The sound went through his inmost heart; it seized him as if
he had unwittingly touched the wound, of which the dying frame of Nature
was expiring in its agony. He started up to fly; for he had already
heard of the mysterious mandrake-root, which, when torn, yields such
heart-rending moans, that the person who has hurt it runs distracted by
its wailing. As he turned to go, a stranger man was standing at his
back, who looked at him with a friendly countenance, and asked him
whither he was going. Christian had been longing for society, and yet he
started in alarm at this friendly presence.
"Whither so fast?" said the stranger again.
The young hunter made an effort to collect himself, and told how all at
once the solitude had seemed so frightful to him, he had meant to get
away; the evening was so dark, the green shades of the wood so dreary,
the brook seemed uttering lamentations, and his longing drew him over to
the other side of the hills.
"You are but young," said the stranger, "and cannot yet endure the
rigour of solitude: I will accompany you, for you will find no house or
hamlet within a league of this; and in the way we may talk, and tell
each other tales, and so your sad thoughts will leave you: in an hour
the moon will rise behind the hills; its light also will help to chase
away the darkness of your mind."
They went along, and the stranger soon appeared to Christian as if he
had been an old acquaintance. "Who are you?" said the man; "by your
speech I hear that you belong not to this part."
"Ah!" replied the other, "upon this I could say much, and yet it is not
worth the telling you, or talking of. There was something dragged me,
with a foreign force, from the circle of my parents and relations; my
spirit was not master of itself: like a bird which is taken in a net,
and struggles to no purpose, so my soul was meshed in strange
imaginations and desires. We dwelt far hence, in a plain, where all
round you could see no hill, scarce even a height: few trees adorned the
green level; but meadows, fertile corn-fields, gardens stretched away as
far as the eye could reach; and a broad river glittered like a potent
spirit through the midst of them. My father was gardener to a nobleman,
and meant to breed me to the same employment. He delighted in plants and
flowers beyond aught else, and could unweariedly pass day by day in
watching them and tending them. Nay he went so far as to maintain, that
he could almost speak with them; that he got knowledge from their growth
and spreading, as well as from the varied form and colour of their
leaves. To me, however, gardening was a tiresome occupation; and the
more so as my father kept persuading me to take it up, or even attempted
to compel me to it with threats. I wished to be a fisherman, and tried
that business for a time; but a life on the waters would not suit me: I
was then apprenticed to a tradesman in the town; but soon came home from
this employment also. My father happened to be talking of the Mountains,
which he had travelled over in his youth; of the subterranean mines and
their workmen; of hunters and their occupation; and that instant there
arose in me the most decided wish, the feeling that at last I had found
out the way of life which would entirely fit me. Day and night I
meditated on the matter; representing to myself high mountains, chasms
and pine-forests; my imagination shaped wild rocks; I heard the tumult
of the chase, the horns, the cry of the hounds and the game; all my
dreams were filled with these things, and they left me neither peace nor
rest any more. The plain, our patron's castle, and my father's little
hampered garden, with its trimmed flower-beds; our narrow dwelling; the
wide sky which stretched above us in its dreary vastness, embracing no
hill, no lofty mountain, all became more dull and odious to me. It
seemed as if the people about me were living in most lamentable
ignorance; that every one of them would think and long as I did, should
the feeling of their wretchedness but once arise within their souls.
Thus did I bait my heart with restless fancies; till one morning I
resolved on leaving my father's house directly and forever. In a book I
had found some notice of the nearest mountains, some charts of the
neighbouring districts, and by them I shaped my course. It was early in
spring, and I felt myself cheerful, and altogether light of heart. I
hastened on, to get away the faster from the level country; and one
evening, in the distance, I descried the dim outline of the Mountains,
lying on the sky before me. I could scarcely sleep in my inn, so
impatient did I feel to have my foot upon the region which I regarded as
my home: with the earliest dawn I was awake, and again in motion. By the
afternoon, I had got among my beloved hills; and here, as if
intoxicated, I went on, then stopped a while, looked back; and drank, as
in inspiring draughts, the aspect of these foreign yet well-known
objects. Ere long, the plain was out of sight; the forest-streams were
rushing down to meet me; the oaks and beeches sounded to me from their
steep precipices with wavering boughs; my path led me by the edge of
dizzy abysses; blue hills were standing vast and solemn in the distance.
A new world was opened to me; I was never weary. Thus, after some days,
having roamed over great part of the Mountains, I reached the dwelling
of an old forester, who consented, at my urgent request, to take me in,
and instruct me in the business of the chase. It is now three months
since I entered his service. I took possession of the district where I
was to live, as of my kingdom. I got acquainted with every cliff and
dell among the mountains; in my occupation, when at dawn of day we moved
to the forest, when felling trees in the wood, when practising my
fowling-piece, or training my trusty attendants, our dogs, to do their
feats, I felt completely happy. But for the last eight days I have
stayed up here at the fowling-floor, in the loneliest quarter of the
hills; and tonight I grew so sad as I never was in my life before; I
seemed so lost, so utterly unhappy; and even yet I cannot shake aside
that melancholy humour."
The stranger had listened with attention, while they both wandered on
through a dark alley of the wood. They now came out into the open
country, and the light of the moon, which was standing with its horns
over the summit of the hill, saluted them like a friend. In
undistinguishable forms, and many separated masses, which the pale gleam
again perplexingly combined, lay the cleft mountain-range before them;
in the background a steep hill, on the top of which an antique weathered
ruin rose ghastly in the white light. "Our roads part here," said the
stranger; "I am going down into this hollow; there, by that old
mine-shaft, is my dwelling: the metal ores are my neighbours; the
mine-streams tell me wonders in the night; thither thou canst not follow
me. But look, there stands the Runenberg, with its wild ragged walls;
how beautiful and alluring the grim old rock looks down on us! Wert thou
never there?"
"Never," said the hunter. "Once I heard my old forester relating strange
stories of that hill, which I, like a fool, have forgotten; only I
remember that my mind that night was full of dread and unearthly
notions. I could like to mount the hill some time; for the colours there
are of the fairest, the grass must be very green, the world around one
very strange; who knows, too, but one might chance to find some curious
relic of the ancient time up there?"
"You could scarcely fail," replied the stranger; "whoever knows how to
seek, whoever feels his heart drawn towards it with a right inward
longing, will find friends of former ages there, and glorious things,
and all that he wishes most." With these words the stranger rapidly
descended to a side, without bidding his companion farewell; he soon
vanished in the tangles of the thicket, and after some few instants, the
sound of his footsteps also died away. The young hunter did not feel
surprised, he but went on with quicker speed towards the Runenberg:
thither all things seemed to beckon him; the stars were shining towards
it; the moon pointed out as it were a bright road to the ruins; light
clouds rose up to them; and from the depths, the waters and sounding
woods spoke new courage into him. His steps were as if winged; his heart
throbbed; he felt so great a joy within him, that it rose to pain. He
came into places he had never seen before; the rocks grew steeper; the
green disappeared; the bald cliffs called to him, as with angry voices,
and a lone moaning wind drove him on before it. Thus he hurried forward
without pause; and late after midnight he came upon a narrow footpath,
which ran along by the brink of an abyss. He heeded not the depth which
yawned beneath, and threatened to swallow him forever; so keenly was he
driven along by wild imaginations and vague wishes. At last his perilous
track led him close by a high wall, which seemed to lose itself in the
clouds; the path grew narrower every step; and Christian had to cling by
projecting stones to keep himself from rushing down into the gulf. Ere
long, he could get no farther; his path ended underneath a window: he
was obliged to pause, and knew not whether he should turn or stay.
Suddenly he saw a light, which seemed to move within the ruined edifice.
He looked towards the gleam; and found that he could see into an ancient
spacious hall, strangely decorated, and glittering in manifold
splendour, with multitudes of precious stones and crystals, the hues of
which played through each other in mysterious changes, as the light
moved to and fro; and this was in the hand of a stately female, who kept
walking with a thoughtful aspect up and down the apartment. She seemed
of a different race from mortals; so large, so strong was her form, so
earnest her look; yet the enraptured huntsman thought he had never seen
or fancied such surpassing beauty. He trembled, yet secretly wished she
might come near the window and observe him. At last she stopped, set
down the light on a crystal table, looked aloft, and sang with a
piercing voice:
What can the Ancient keep
That they come not at my call?
The crystal pillars weep,
From the diamonds on the wall
The trickling tear-drops fall;
And within is heard a moan,
A chiding fitful tone:
In these waves of brightness,
Lovely changeful lightness,
Has the Shape been form'd,
By which the soul is charm'd,
And the longing heart is warm'd.
Come, ye Spirits, at my call,
Haste ye to the Golden Hall;
Raise, from your abysses gloomy,
Heads that sparkle; faster
Come, ye Ancient Ones, come to me!
Let your power be master
Of the longing hearts and souls,
Where the flood of passion rolls,
Let your power be master!
On finishing the song, she began undressing; laying her apparel in a
costly press. First, she took a golden veil from her head; and her long
black hair streamed down in curling fulness over her loins: then she
loosed her bosom-dress; and the youth forgot himself and all the world
in gazing at that more than earthly beauty. He scarcely dared to
breathe, as by degrees she laid aside her other garments: at last she
walked about the chamber naked; and her heavy waving locks formed round
her, as it were, a dark billowy sea, out of which, like marble, the
glancing limbs of her form beamed forth, in alternating splendour. After
a while, she went forward to another golden press; and took from it a
tablet, glittering with many inlaid stones, rubies, diamonds and all
kinds of jewels; and viewed it long with an investigating look. The
tablet seemed to form a strange inexplicable figure, from its individual
lines and colours; sometimes, when the glance of it came towards the
hunter, he was painfully dazzled by it; then, again, soft green and blue
playing over it, refreshed his eye: he stood, however, devouring the
objects with his looks, and at the same time sunk in deep thought.
Within his soul, an abyss of forms and harmony, of longing and
voluptuousness, was opened: hosts of winged tones, and sad and joyful
melodies flew through his spirit, which was moved to its foundations: he
saw a world of Pain and Hope arise within him; strong towering crags of
Trust and defiant Confidence, and deep rivers of Sadness flowing by. He
no longer knew himself: and he started as the fair woman opened the
window; handed him the magic tablet of stones, and spoke these words:
"Take this in memory of me!" He caught the tablet; and felt the figure,
which, unseen, at once went through his inmost heart; and the light, and
the fair woman, and the wondrous hall, had disappeared. As it were, a
dark night, with curtains of cloud, fell down over his soul: he searched
for his former feelings, for that inspiration and unutterable love; he
looked at the precious tablet, and the sinking moon was imaged in it
faint and bluish.
He had still the tablet firmly grasped in his hands when the morning
dawned; and he, exhausted, giddy and half-asleep, fell headlong down the
precipice.--
The sun shone bright on the face of the stupefied sleeper; and,
awakening, he found himself upon a pleasant hill. He looked round, and
saw far behind him, and scarce discernible at the extreme horizon, the
ruins of the Runenberg; he searched for his tablet, and could find it
nowhere. Astonished and perplexed, he tried to gather his thoughts, and
connect together his remembrances; but his memory was as if filled with
a waste haze, in which vague irrecognisable shapes were wildly jostling
to and fro. His whole previous life lay behind him, as in a far
distance; the strangest and the commonest were so mingled, that all his
efforts could not separate them. After long struggling with himself, he
at last concluded that a dream, or sudden madness, had come over him
that night; only he could never understand how he had strayed so far
into a strange and remote quarter.