In the midst of the second encounter, Satan's squadrons suddenly draw

aside to let these cannons belch forth the destruction with which they

are charged, an unexpected broadside which fells the good angels by

thousands; but, although hosts of them are thus laid low, others

spring forward to take their place. On seeing the havoc wrought by

their guns, Satan and his host openly rejoice; but the good angels,

perceiving arms are useless against this artillery, throw them away,

and, picking up the hills, hurl them at their opponents, whom they

bury beneath the weight of mountains. In fact, had not the Almighty

checked this outburst of righteous anger, the fiends would doubtless

have been buried so deep they never would have been able to reappear!

On the third day the Almighty proclaims that, as both forces are equal

in strength, the fighting will never end unless he interferes. He

therefore summons his only begotten Son to wield the thunder-bolts,

his exclusive weapon. Ever ready to do his Father's will, the Son

accepts, mounts a chariot borne by four cherubs, and sets forth,

attended by twenty thousand saints, who wish to witness his triumph.

On seeing him approach, the good angels exult, while the wicked are

seized with terror, although they disdain to flee. Bidding the angelic

host watch him triumph single-handed over the foe, the Son of God

changes his benignant expression into one of wrath, and hurls his

thunder-bolts to such purpose that the rebels long for the mountains

to cover them as on the previous day. With these divine weapons Christ

ruthlessly drives Satan and his hosts out of the confines of heaven,

over the edge of the abyss, and hurls them all down into the

bottomless pit, sending after them peal after peal of thunder,

together with dazzling flashes of lightning, but mercifully

withholding his deadly bolts, as he purposes not to annihilate, but

merely to drive the rebels out of heaven. Thus, with a din and clatter

which the poet graphically describes, Satan and his host fall through

space and land nine days later in the fiery lake!

After pursuing the foe far enough to make sure they will not return,

the Messiah re-enters heaven in triumph, greeted by saints and angels

with hymns of praise. This account of the war in heaven concluded,

Raphael informs Adam that Satan, leader of these fallen angels,

envying his happy state, is now plotting to seduce him from his

allegiance to God, and thus compel him to share his eternal misery.

"But listen not to his temptations; warn

Thy weaker; let it profit thee to have heard

By terrible example the reward

Of disobedience; firm they might have stood,

Yet fell; remember, and fear to transgress."

_Book VII._ At Adam's request Raphael next explains how the earth was

created, saying that, as Satan had seduced one-third of heaven's

inhabitants, God decided to create a new race, whence angels could be

recruited to repeople his realm. In terms simple enough to make

himself understood, Raphael depicts how the Son of God passing through

heaven's gates and viewing the immeasurable abyss, decided to evolve

from it a thing of beauty. He adds that the Creator made use of the

divine compasses "prepared in God's eternal store," to circumscribe

the universe, thus setting its bounds at equal distance from its

centre. Then his spirit, brooding over the abyss, permeated Chaos with

vital warmth, until its various components sought their appointed

places, and earth "self-balanced on her centre hung." Next the light

evolved from the deep began to travel from east to west, and "God saw

that it was good."

On the second day God created the firmament, on the third separated

water from dry land, and on the fourth covered the earth with plants

and trees, each bearing seed to propagate its kind. Then came the

creation of the sun, moon, and stars to rule day and night and divide

light from darkness, and on the fifth day the creation of the birds

and fishes, whom God bade multiply until they filled the earth. Only

on the sixth and last day did God call into life cattle and creeping

things, which crawled out of the earth full grown and perfect limbed.

Then, as there still lacked a creature endowed with reason to rule the

rest, God created man in his own image, fashioning him from clay by

breathing life into his nostrils. After thus creating Adam and his

consort Eve, God blessed both, bidding them be fruitful, multiply and

fill the earth, and hold dominion over every living thing upon it.

Having placed creatures so richly endowed in Paradise, God left them

free to enjoy all it contained, save the fruit of the tree of

knowledge of good and evil, in regard to which he warned them "in the

day thou eatest thereof, thou diest." Then, his work finished, the

Creator returned to heaven, where he and the angels spent the seventh

day resting from their work.

_Book VIII._ Not daring to intrude upon the conversation of Adam and

Raphael, Eve waits at a distance, knowing her husband will tell her

all she need learn. Meanwhile, further to satisfy his curiosity, Adam

inquires how the sun and stars move so quietly in their orbit? Raphael

rejoins that, although the heavens are the book of God, wherein man

can read his wondrous works, it is difficult to make any one

understand the distances separating the various orbs. To give Adam a

slight idea of them, Raphael declares that he--whose motions are not

slow--set out from heaven at early morn and arrived at Eden only at

midday. Then he describes the three rotations to which our earth is

subject, names the six planets, and assures Adam God holds them all in

his hand and prescribes their paths and speed.

In his turn, Adam entertains Raphael with a description of his

amazement when he awoke on a flowery hillside, to see the sky, the

woods, and the streams; his gradual acquaintance with his own person

and powers, the naming of the animals, and his awe when the divine

master led him into Paradise and warned him not to touch the central

tree. After describing his loneliness on discovering that all living

creatures went about in pairs, Adam adds that, after he had complained

to the Creator, a deep sleep fell upon him, during which a rib was

removed from his side from which to fashion Eve. Joined by the Creator

himself to this "bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh," Adam

declares since then they have enjoyed nuptial bliss, and artlessly

inquires whether angels marry and are given in marriage too. Whereupon

Raphael rejoins that in heaven love so refines the thoughts and

enlarges the heart that none save spiritual communion is necessary to

secure perfect bliss. Then, seeing the sun about to set, the angel

takes leave of Adam and wends his way back to heaven, while the father

of mankind rejoins his waiting wife.

Book IX. The poet warns us there will be no more question of talk

between man and angels, as his song must now change to a tragic note,

because vile distrust has entered Paradise. Then he describes how

Satan, driven away from Eden by Gabriel, circles around the earth

seven days and nights without rest, and at the end of that time

re-enters Paradise, by means of an underground river and in the guise

of a mist. Then, perched as a bird upon the tree of knowledge of good

and evil, Satan decides to approach our first parents in the guise of

a loathsome serpent and seek his revenge, although fully aware the

consequences will recoil upon himself. Next, finding a serpent asleep,

Satan enters it, and meanders along the paths of Paradise, hoping to

find Adam and Eve apart, for he deems it will be easier to work his

ends on one at a time.

Morning having come, Adam and Eve awake, and after their usual song of

praise set out to attend the garden. But Eve insists that as long as

they are together they allow themselves to be distracted from their

labors, and proposes that they work independently until the noon hour

brings them together to share their simple repast. Although reluctant

at first to be parted from his beloved, Adam, hearing her exclaim he

does not trust her, yields to her pleading. Thus, the serpent, ranging

through the garden, perceives Eve alone among the roses, and rejoices

to think he can make his first attempt upon what he rightly deems the

weaker vessel. Although not without compunction, he wends his way

toward her and startles her by addressing her in a human voice. When

she inquires how it happens a beast can communicate with her, the

serpent rejoins that, although at first speechless like other beasts,

he no sooner tasted a certain fruit than he was gifted with greater

knowledge than he had yet enjoyed and endowed with the power of

speech. Deeming the fruit of such a tree might have equally beneficial

effects upon her and make her more nearly equal to her consort, Eve

longs to partake of it too, and readily follows her guide to the

centre of the garden. But, when the serpent points out the forbidden

tree, Eve prepares to withdraw, until the tempter assures her God's

prohibition was not intended to be obeyed. He argues that, although he

has tasted the fruit he continues to live and has obtained new

faculties, and by this specious reasoning induces Eve to pluck and eat

the fruit. As it touches her lips nature gives "signs of woe," and

the guilty serpent links back into the thicket, leaving Eve to gorge

upon the fruit whose taste affords her keener delight than she ever

experienced before. In laudatory terms she now promises to care for

the tree, and then wonders whether Adam will perceive any difference

in her, and whether it will be wise to impart to him the happiness she

has tasted. Although at first doubtful, Eve, fearing lest death may

ensue and Adam replace her by another partner, determines to induce

her husband to share this food too, for she loves Adam too dearly to

live without him.

"Confirmed then I resolve,

Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe:

So dear I love him, that with him all deaths

I could endure, without him live no life."

This decision reached, Eve hastens to Adam, and volubly explains that

the tree is not what God depicted, for the serpent, having tasted of

its fruit, has been endowed with eloquence so persuasive that he has

induced her to taste it too. Horror-stricken, Adam wails his wife is

lost; then he wonders how he will be able to exist without her, and is

amazed to think she should have yielded to the very first onslaught of

their foe. But, after this first outburst of grief, he vows he will

share her doom and die with her. Having made a decision so flattering

to Eve, he accepts the fruit which she tenders, and nature again

shudders, for Adam, although not deceived, yields to temptation

because of his love for Eve. No sooner have both fed upon the tree

than its effects become patent, for it kindles within them the

never-before-experienced sense of lust. The couple therefore emerge on

the morrow from their bower, their innocence lost, and overwhelmed,

for the first time in their lives, by a crushing sense of shame. Good

and evil being equally well known to him, Adam reproaches his wife,

wailing that never more shall they behold the face of God and suggests

that they weave leaf-garments to hide their nakedness. So the first

couple steal into the thicket to fashion fig-leaf girdles, which they

bind about them, reviling each other for having forfeited their former

happy estate.

_Book X._ Meantime, Eve's fall has been duly reported in heaven by the

angelic guards, whom the Almighty reassures, saying he knew the Evil

Spirit would succeed and man would fall. Then the same voice decrees

that, as man has transgressed, his sentence shall be pronounced, and

that the one best fitted for such a task is the Son, man's mediator

Ready to do his Father's will in heaven as upon earth, the Son

departs, promising to temper justice with mercy, so that God's

goodness will be made manifest, and adding that the doom of the absent

Satan shall also be pronounced.

Escorted to the gates of heaven by the angelic host, the Redeemer

descends alone to earth, where he arrives in the garden in the cool of

the evening. At his summons Adam and Eve emerge from their

hiding-place, and, when Adam shamefacedly claims they hid because they

were naked, his maker demonstrates how his very words convict him of

guilt, and inquires whether they have eaten of the forbidden fruit.

Unable to deny his transgression, Adam states he is in a quandary, for

he must either accuse himself wrongfully or lay the guilt upon the

wife whom it is his duty to protect. When he adds that the woman gave

him the fruit whereof he did eat, the judge sternly demands whether

Adam was bound to obey his consort, reminding him that woman was made

subject to man and declaring that by yielding to Eve's persuasions he

incurred equal guilt. Then, turning to the woman, the judge demands

what she had done, and Eve, abashed, confesses the serpent beguiled

her until she ate. Having thus heard both culprits, the judge

pronounces sentence upon the serpent in veiled terms, for, as yet, man

is not to understand what is divinely planned. Then, having disposed

of the archenemy, he predicts Eve will bring forth her children in

suffering and will be subject to her husband's will, ere he informs

Adam that henceforth he will have to earn his bread by the sweat of

his brow, for the earth will no longer bear fruit for him without

labor. Having thus pronounced his judgment, the judge postpones the

penalty of death indefinitely, and taking pity upon our first parents,

clothes them in the skins of beasts, to enable them to bear the

harsher air to which they are soon to be exposed.

Meantime Sin and Death peer forth through hell's open gateway, hoping

to each some glimpse of returning Satan. Weary of waiting, Sin finally

suggests to Death the folly of remaining idle, since Satan cannot fail

to succeed, and proposes that they follow him over the abyss, building

as they go a road to facilitate intercourse hereafter between hell and

earth. This proposal charms Death, whose keen nostrils already descry

the smell of mortal change, and who longs to reach earth and prey upon

all living creatures. These two terrible shapes, therefore, venture

out through the waste, and by making "the hard soft and the soft

hard," they fashion of stone and asphalt a broad highway from the

gates of hell to the confines of the newly created world.

They have barely finished this causeway when Satan--still in the

likeness of an angel--comes flying toward them, for after seducing Eve

he has lurked in the garden until from a safe hiding-place he heard

the threefold sentence pronounced by the judge. He too does not grasp

his doom, but, realizing that humanity is in his power, is hastening

back to Hades to make the joyful fact known. On encountering Sin and

Death, Satan congratulates them upon their engineering skill and sends

them on to work their will in the world, while he speeds along the

path they have made to tell the fallen angels all that has occurred.

In obedience to his orders a number of these are mounting guard, but

Satan, in the guise of a ministering spirit, passes through their

midst unheeded, and only after entering Pandemonium allows his native

majesty to shine forth. On becoming aware he is once more present, the

demons welcome him with a mighty shout. Then by an impressive gesture

Satan imposes silence and describes his journey, his success, and the

ease with which they can pass to and fro now that Sin and Death have

paved their way. To satisfy their curiosity he further depicts by what

means he tempted woman, and, although he admits he was cursed as well

as the fallen, does not appear dismayed. Raising their voices to

applaud him, his adherents are now surprised to hear themselves hiss,

and to discover they have all been transformed into snakes. Then Satan

himself, in the form of a dragon, guides them to a grove near by,

where they climb the trees and greedily feed on apples of Sodom, which

offend their taste, a performance to be renewed yearly on the

anniversary of the temptation.

Meanwhile, Sin and Death having entered Paradise,--where they are not

yet allowed to touch human beings,--lay low herbs, fruit, flowers, and

beasts, all of which are now their legitimate prey. Pointing out their

ravages, the Almighty explains that, had man not disobeyed, these

despoilers would never have preyed upon the newly created world, where

they are now to have full sway until the Son hurls them back into

Hades. On hearing these words, the angels praise the ways of the

Almighty, which are ever just, and laud his Son as the destined

restorer of mankind. While they are thus employed, the Almighty

directs some of his attendants to move the sun, so as to subject the

earth to alternate cold and heat, thus making winter follow summer.

The planets, too, are to shed malignant influences upon the earth,

whose axle is slightly turned, while violent winds cause devastation,

and enmity is kindled between creatures which have hitherto lived in

peace. Adam, on perceiving these changes, becomes conscious they are

the effect of his transgression, and is plunged in such grief that

God's order to increase and multiply seems horrible. In his grief he

murmurs aloud, but, after a while, realizing he was left free to

choose between good and evil, he acknowledges his punishment is just.

The fact that God does not immediately visit upon him the penalty he

has incurred does not, however, comfort him, because he longs for

death to end his sorrows. On seeing her husband's grief, Eve now

volunteers to go in quest of their judge, imploring him to visit upon

her alone the penalty of sin. Her readiness to sacrifice herself

touches Adam, who replies that, since they are one, they must share

what awaits them. When Eve intimates that, since they are doomed, it

will be well never to bear any children, Adam reminds her it is only

through repentance they can appease their judge, and bids her not

scorn life or its pleasures.

_Book XI._ Having reached this state of humility and repentance, our

first parents are viewed compassionately by the Redeemer, who,

gathering up their prayers, presents them to the Father as the

first-fruits which have sprung from his mercy.

"See, Father, what first-fruits on earth are sprung

From thy implanted grace in man; these sighs

And prayers, which in this golden censer, mixed

With incense, I thy priest before thee bring,

Fruits of more pleasing savor, from thy seed

Sown with contrition in his heart, than those

Which his own hand, manuring all the trees

Of Paradise, could have produced, ere fallen

From innocence."

In reply to the touching pleas of this advocate, the heavenly Father

promises the culprits shall be forgiven, provided their repentance is

sincere, but insists that meantime they be ejected from Paradise.

Michael and the cherubs chosen for this office are instructed to mount

guard day and night, lest the fiend return to Paradise, or the human

pair re-enter and partake of the tree of life and thus escape the

penalty of death. But, before driving out our first parents, Michael

is to reveal to Adam all that awaits his race in the future,

emphasizing the promise that salvation shall come through his seed.

These orders received, the archangel wends his way down to earth,

where, dawn having appeared, Adam and Eve once more issue from their

bower.

Night has brought some comfort, and Adam exclaims that, since the

penalty of death is to be postponed, they must show their penitence by

laboring hard, working henceforth side by side as contentedly as

their fallen state will allow. On the way to the scene of their wonted

labors they notice an eagle pursuing another bird and see wild beasts

hunting one another. Besides these ominous signs Adam, descrying a

bright light travelling rapidly toward them, informs Eve some message

is on its way. He is not mistaken, for Michael soon emerges from this

cloud of light so, while Eve hurries off to prepare for his

entertainment Adam steps forward to receive him.

Clad in celestial panoply, the angel announces he has been sent to

inform Adam that although the penalty of death is indefinitely

postponed, he is no longer to inhabit Paradise, but is to go forth

into the world and till the ground from whence he sprang.

Horror-stricken at these tidings, Adam remains mute, and Eve, hearing

the decree from a distance, wails aloud at the thought of leaving

home. To comfort her, the angel bids her dry her tears and follow her

husband, making her home wherever he abides. Then Adam wonders whether

by incessant prayer and penitence the Almighty could be induced to

alter his decree and let them remain in Paradise, saying he hoped to

point out to his descendants the places where he met and conversed

with his Maker. But Michael rejoining he will find God everywhere

invites Adam to follow him to the top of a neighboring hill,

explaining he has enveloped Eve in slumbers, which will hold her

entranced while he reveals to Adam the earth's kingdoms and their

glory.

"Know I am sent

To show thee what shall come in future days

To thee and to thy offspring; good with bad

Expect to hear, supernal grace contending

With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn

True patience, and to temper joy with fear,

And pious sorrow, equally inured

By moderation either state to bear,

Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead

Safest thy life, and best prepared endure

Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend

This hill; let Eve (for I have drenched her eyes)

Here sleep below, while thou to foresight wakest.

As once thou slept'st, while she to life was formed."

From a hill in Paradise,--after purging Adam's eyes with three drops

of water from the well of life,--Michael vouchsafes him a glimpse of

all that is to take place upon our earth. Thus, Cain and Abel first

pass before their father's eyes, but death is so unintelligible to

Adam that the angel has to explain what it means. Overwhelmed at the

thought that so awful a thing has come into the world through his

transgression, Adam is further horrified when the angel reveals all

the suffering which will visit mankind, explaining that, since much of

it will be due to evil living, it behooves Adam to observe temperance

in food and drink. But he warns him that, in spite of all precautions,

old age will come upon him as a precursor of death. In a panorama Adam

sees all that is to occur until the Deluge, and, watching Noah

construct the ark, wails because his progeny is to be destroyed by the

flood. The angel, however, demonstrates that the righteous will be

saved and that from them will descend a race more willing to obey

God's commands. The dove and the rainbow, therefore, instil comfort

into Adam's heart, as does God's promise that day and night, seedtime

and harvest shall hold their course until new heavens and earth appear

wherein the just shall dwell.

_Book XII._ Having depicted a world destroyed and foreshadowed a world

restored, the angel shows Adam how man will migrate to a plain, where

by means of bricks and bitumen an attempt will be made to erect a

tower to reach heaven. When Adam expresses displeasure that one of his

race should defy God, Michael assures him he rightly abhors

disobedience, and comforts him by revealing how one righteous man, in

whose "seed all nations shall be blest," is to be brought out of that

country into the Promised Land.

Not only does the angel name Abraham, but depicts his life, the

captivity in Egypt, the exodus, and the forty years in the desert. He

also vouchsafes to Adam a glimpse of Moses on Mount Sinai receiving

the tables of the law, and appointing the worship which the Chosen

People are to offer to their Creator. When Adam wonders at the number

of laws, Michael rejoins that sin has many faces, and that until blood

more precious than that of the prescribed sacrifices has been shed, no

suitable atonement can be made.

After describing how under the Judges and then under the Kings the

people of Israel will continue their career the angel designates David

as the ancestor of the Messiah, whose coming will be heralded by a

star which will serve as guide to eastern sages. He adds that this

Messiah will descend from the Most High by a virgin mother, that his

reign will extend over all the earth, and that, by bruising the

serpent's head, he will conquer Sin and Death. This promise fills

Adam's heart with joy, because it partly explains the mysterious

prophecy, but, when he inquires how the serpent can wound such a

victor's heel, Michael rejoins that, in order to overcome Satan, the

Messiah will incur the penalty of death, revealing how, after living

hated and blasphemed, he will prove by his death and resurrection that

Sin and Death have no lasting power over those who believe in his

name. Full of joy at the promise that the Messiah will lead all

ransomed souls to a happier Paradise than the one he has forfeited,

Adam declares since such good is to proceed from the evil he has done

he doubts whether he should repent.

Between the death of Christ and his second coming, the angel adds that

the Comforter will dwell upon earth with those who love their

Redeemer, helping them resist the onslaughts of Satan, and that in

spite of temptation many righteous will ultimately reach heaven, to

take the place of the outcast angels.

"Till the day

Appear of respiration to the just,

And vengeance to the wicked, at return

Of him so lately promised to thy aid,

The woman's Seed, obscurely then foretold,

Now amplier known thy Saviour and thy Lord,

Last in the clouds from heaven to be revealed

In glory of the Father, to dissolve

Satan with his perverted world, then raise

From the conflagrant mass, purged and refined,

New heavens, new earth, ages of endless date

Founded in righteousness and peace and love,

To bring forth fruits, joy, and eternal bliss."

These instructions finished, the angel bids Adam not seek to know any

more, enjoining upon him to add deeds to knowledge, to cultivate

patience, temperance, and love, promising, if he obeys, that Paradise

will reign in his heart. Then pointing out that the guards placed

around Eden are waving their flashing swords and that it is time to

awaken Eve, he bids Adam gradually impart to her all that he has

learned through angelic revelations. When they rejoin Eve, she

explains how God sent her a dream which has soothed her heart and

filled it with hope, making her realize that, although she has sinned

and is unworthy, through her seed all shall be blessed.

Then the angel takes Adam and Eve by the hand and leads them out by

the eastern gate into the world. Gazing backward, our first parents

catch their last glimpse of Paradise and behold at the gate the angel

with a flaming sword. Thus, hand in hand, dropping natural tears, they

pass out into the world to select their place of rest, having

Providence only for their guide.

PARADISE REGAINED

Having sung of Paradise Lost, Milton proposes as theme for a new epic

"Paradise Regained." In it he purports to sing of "deeds heroic

although in secret done" and to describe how Christ was led into the

wilderness to be tempted by Satan.

_Book I._ While baptizing in the Jordan, John suddenly beheld Christ

approaching, and, although he at first demurred, yielded at last to

his request to baptize him too. While the Baptist was doing this, a

heavenly voice proclaimed Christ Son of God. This was heard not only

by John and his disciples, but also by the adversary, who, ever since

the fall, had been roaming around the world, and who for years past

has been closely watching the promised Redeemer in hopes of defeating

his ends.

Suddenly realizing that the conflict between them is about to begin,

Satan hastens back to Hades to take counsel with his crew. When all

are assembled, he reminds them how long they have ruled the earth,

adding that the time has come when their power may be wrested from

them and the curse spoken in Eden fulfilled. He fears Jesus is the

promised Messiah, owing to his miraculous birth, to the testimony of

the precursor, and to the heavenly voice when he was baptized. Besides

he has recognized in Christ's lineaments the imprint of the Father's

glory, and avers that, unless they can counteract and defeat the Son's

ends, they will forfeit all they have gained. Realizing, however, that

this task is far greater than the one he undertook centuries

before,--when he winged his way through chaos to discover the new

world and tempt our first parents,--he volunteers to undertake it in

person, and all the evil spirits applaud him. This settled, Satan

departs to carry out the second temptation.

Meantime another assembly has been held in heaven, where, addressing

the archangel Gabriel, the Almighty informs him he will soon see the

fulfilment of the message he bore some thirty years previously to

Mary. He adds that his Son, whom he has publicly recognized, is about

to be tempted by Satan, who, although he failed in the case of Job, is

undertaking this new task confident of success. The Almighty also

predicts that Satan will again be defeated, but declares Christ is as

free to yield or resist as Adam when first created, and that before

sending him out to encounter Sin and Death he means to strengthen him

by a sojourn in the desert. On hearing that Satan's evil plans will be

frustrated, the angels burst into a hymn of triumph with which heaven

resounds.

So spake the eternal Father, and all Heaven

Admiring stood a space; then into hymns

Burst forth, and in celestial measures moved,

Circling the throne and singing, while the hand

Sung with the voice; and this the argument:

"Victory and triumph to the Son of God

Now entering his great duel, not of arms,

But to vanquish by wisdom hellish wiles.

The Father knows the Son; therefore secure

Ventures his filial virtue, though untried,

Against whate'er may tempt, whate'er seduce,

Allure, or terrify, or undermine.

Be frustrate, all ye stratagems of Hell,

And devilish machinations come to nought."

During this time the Son of God, after lingering three days by the

Jordan, is driven by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness, where he

spends his time meditating upon the great office he had undertaken as

Saviour of mankind. In a grand soliloquy we hear how since early youth

he has been urged onward by divine and philosophical influences, and

how, realizing he was born to further truth, he has diligently studied

the law of God. Thanks to these studies, our Lord at twelve could

measure his learning with that of the rabbis in the temple. Ever since

that time he has longed to rescue his people from the Roman yoke, to

end brutality, to further all that is good, and to win all hearts to

God. He recalls the stories his mother told him in regard to the

annunciation, to his virgin birth, and to the Star of Bethlehem, and

comments upon the fact that the precursor immediately recognized him

and that a voice from heaven hailed him as the Son of God!

Although Christ realizes he has been sent into the wilderness by

divine power, and that his future way lies "through many a hard assay"

and may lead even to death, he does not repine. Instead he spends the

forty days in the wilderness fasting, preparing himself for the great

work which he is called upon to accomplish, and paying no heed to the

wild beasts which prowl around him without doing him any harm.

It is only when weakness has reached its highest point and when Christ

begins to hunger, that Satan approaches him in the guise of an old

peasant, pathetically describing the difficulty of maintaining life in

the wilderness. Then he adds that, having seen Jesus baptized in the

Jordan he begs him to turn the stones around him into food, thereby

relieving himself and his wretched fellow-sufferer from the pangs of

hunger.

"But, if thou be the Son of God, command

That out of these hard stones be made thee bread;

So shalt thou save thyself and us relieve

With food, whereof we wretched seldom taste."

Jesus, however, merely reproaches the tempter, rejoining, "Man shall

not live by bread alone, but from the words which proceed out of the

mouth of God," and explaining that he knows who Satan is and for what

purpose he has been sent hither. Unable to conceal his identity any

longer, the evil spirit admits he has come straight from hell, but

adds that God gave him power to test Job and to punish Ahab. He argues

that the Almighty, who fed the Israelites with manna and supplied

Elijah with miraculous food, does not intend to starve his only Son.

Then, expressing admiration for Jesus' intellect, Satan explains he is

not the foe of man, since through him he has gained everything, and

whom he prides himself upon having often helped by oracles and omen.

In spite of these arguments, Jesus refuses to listen to him, declares

his oracles have lost all power, and adds that he is sent to execute

his Father's will.

"God hath now sent his living oracle

Into the world to teach his final will,

And sends his Spirit of truth henceforth to dwell

In pious hearts, an inward oracle

To all truth requisite for men to know."

Thus baffled, Satan vanishes into "thin air diffused," and night

steals over the desert, where fowls seek their nests while the wild

beasts begin to roam in search of food.

_Book II._ John the Baptist and his disciples, made anxious by Jesus'

long absence, now begin to seek him as the prophets sought Elijah,

fearing lest he too may have been caught up into heaven. Hearing Simon

and Andrew wonder where he has gone and what he is doing, Mary

relates the extraordinary circumstances which accompanied her Son's

birth, mentioning the flight into Egypt, the return to Nazareth, and

sundry other occurrences during the youth of our Lord. She declares

that, ever since Gabriel's message fell upon her ear, she has been

trying to prepare herself for the fulfilment of a promise then made

her, and has often wondered what Simeon meant when he cried that a

sword would pierce her very soul! Still, she recalls how at twelve

years of age, she grieved over the loss of her Son, until she found

him in the temple, when he excused himself by stating he must be about

his Father's business. Ever since then Mary has patiently awaited what

is to come to pass, realizing the child she bore is destined to great

things.

Thus Mary pondering oft, and oft to mind

Recalling what remarkably had passed

Since first her salutation heard, with thoughts

Meekly composed awaited fulfilling.

Satan, having hastened back to the infernal regions, reports the ill

success of his first venture, and the effect his first temptation had

upon our Lord. Feeling at a loss, he invites the demons to assist him

with their counsel, warning them this task will prove far more

difficult than that of leading Adam astray. Belial, the most dissolute

spirit in hell, then proposes that Satan tempt Jesus with women,

averring that the female sex possesses so many wiles that even

Solomon, wisest of kings, succumbed. But Satan scornfully rejects this

proposal, declaring that He whom they propose thus to tempt is far

wiser than Solomon and has a much more exalted mind. Although certain

Christ will prove impervious to the bait of sense, Satan surmises

that, owing to a prolonged fast, he may be susceptible to the

temptation of hunger, so, taking a select band of spirits, he returns

to the desert to renew his attempts in a different form.

Transferring us again to the solitude, the poet describes how our

Saviour passed the night dreaming of Elijah fed by the ravens and of

Daniel staying his hunger with pulse Awakened at last by the song of

the larks, our Lord rises from his couch on the hard ground, and,

strolling into fertile valley, encounters Satan, who, superbly

dressed, expresses surprise he should receive no aid in the wilderness

when Hagar, the Israelites, and Elijah were all fed by divine

intervention. Then Satan exhibits the wonderful banquet he has

prepared, inviting Christ to partake of it; but the Son of God

haughtily informs him he can obtain food whenever he wishes, and hence

need not accept what he knows is offered with evil intent. Seeing our

Lord cannot be assailed on the ground of appetite, Satan causes the

banquet to vanish, but remains to tempt Christ with an offer of

riches, artfully setting forth the power that can be acquired by their

means. He adds, since Christ's mind is set on high designs, he will

require greater wealth than stands at the disposal of the Son of

Joseph the carpenter. But, although Satan offers to bestow vast

treasures upon him, Christ rejects this proffer too, describing what

noble deeds have been achieved by poor men such as Gideon, Jephtha,

and David, as well as by certain Romans. He adds that riches often

mislead their possessor, and so eloquently describes the drawbacks of

wealth that Satan realizes it is useless to pursue this attempt.

_Book III._ Again complimenting Christ on his acumen, Satan rehearses

the great deeds performed by Philip of Macedon and by Julius Caesar,

who began their glorious careers earlier in life than he. Then, hoping

to kindle in Jesus' heart a passion for worldly glory, Satan artfully

relates that Caesar wept because he had lived so long without

distinguishing himself; but our Lord quietly demonstrates the futility

of earthly fame, compared to real glory, which is won only through

religious patience and virtuous striving, such as was practiced by Job

and Socrates. When Christ repeats he is not seeking his own glory but

that of the Father who sent him, Satan reminds him God is surrounded

with splendor and that it behooves his Son to strive to be like him.

But Jesus rejoins that, while glory is the essential attribute of the

Creator, no one else has a right to aspire to anything of the sort.

Undeterred by these checks, Satan changes his theme, and reminds

Christ that, as a member of the royal family, he is not only entitled

to the throne, but expected to free Judea from Roman oppression. He

states that the holy temple has been defiled, that injustice has been

committed, and urges that even the Maccabees resorted to arms to free

their country. Although Christ insists no such mission has been

appointed for him, he adds that, although his reign will never end, it

will be only those who can suffer best who will be able to enjoy it.

"Who best

Can suffer, best can do; best reign, who first

Well hath obeyed; just trial ere I merit

My exaltation without change or end."

Then, turning upon his interlocutor, Christ inquires why he is so

anxious to promote the one whose rise will entail his fall? To which

Satan replies that, having no hope, it little behooves him to obstruct

the plans of Christ, from whose benevolence alone he expects some

mitigation of his punishment, for he fancies that by speaking thus he

can best induce Christ to hear him. Then, feigning to believe that

Christ has refused his offers simply because he has never seen aught

save Jerusalem, Satan conveys him in the twinkling of an eye to the

summit of a mountain, whence, pointing eastward, he shows him all the

great kingdoms of Asia. Thus, he reveals the glories of Assyria,

Babylonia, and Persia,--of whose histories he gives a brief

résumé,--before pointing out a large Parthian army setting out to war

against the Scythians, for he hopes by this martial display to

convince Christ that, in order to obtain a kingdom, he will have to

resort to military force. Then he adds he can easily enlist the

services of this army, with which Christ can drive the Romans out of

Judea, and triumphantly reign over the land of his ancestors, whence

his glory will extend far and wide, until it far surpasses all that

Rome and Caesar achieved. Jesus, however, demonstrates the vanity of

all military efforts, declaring his time has not yet come, but

assuring him he will not be found wanting when the moment comes for

him to ascend the throne, for he hopes to prove an able ruler.

Then he reminds Satan how he tempted David to take a census against

God's wish, and led Israel astray, until the Ten Tribes were taken off

into captivity in punishment for their idolatry. He also comments upon

Satan's extraordinary anxiety to restore the very people whose foe he

has always been, as he has proved time and again by leading them into

idolatry, adding that God may yet restore them to their liberty and to

their native land. These arguments silence even Satan, for such is

ever the result when "with truth falsehood contends."

_Book IV._ With all the persistency of his kind, Satan refuses to

acknowledge himself beaten, and, leading Christ to the western side of

the mountain, reveals to him all the splendor of Rome, exhibiting its

Capitol, Tarpeian Rock, triumphal arches, and the great roads along

which hosts are journeying to the Eternal City. After thus dazzling

him, Satan suggests that Christ oust Tiberius (who has no son) from

the imperial throne, and make himself master not only of David's

realm, but of the whole Roman Empire, establishing law and order where

vice now reigns.

Although Satan eagerly proffers his aid to accomplish all this, our

Lord rejoins such a position has no attraction for him, adding that,

as long as the Romans were frugal, mild, and temperate, they were

happy, but that, when they became avaricious and brutal, they

forfeited their happiness. He adds that he has not been sent to free

the Romans, but that, when his season comes to sit on David's throne,

his rule will spread over the whole world and will dwell there without

end.

"Know, therefore, when my season comes to sit

On David's throne, it shall be like a tree

Spreading and overshadowing all the earth,

Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash

All monarchies besides throughout the world,

And of my kingdom there shall be no end:

Means there shall be to this, but what the means

Is not for thee to know nor me to tell."

Pretending that Christ's reluctance is due to the fact that he shrinks

from the exertions necessary to obtain this boon Satan offers to

bestow it freely upon him, provided he will fall down and worship him.

Hearing this proposal, Christ rebukes the tempter, saying, "Thou shalt

worship the Lord thy God and only him shalt serve," and reviling him

for his ingratitude. To pacify his interlocutor, Satan then proposes

to make him famous through wisdom, and exhibits Athens,--that

celebrated centre of ancient learning--offering to make him master of

all its schools of philosophy, oratory, and poetry, and thus afford

him ample intellectual gratification. But Jesus rejects this offer

also, after proving the vanity and insufficiency of heathen philosophy

and learning, and after demonstrating that many books are a weariness

to the flesh, and that none compare with those which are the proudest

boast of God's Chosen People.

"However, many books,

Wise men have said, are wearisome: who reads

Incessantly, and to his reading brings not

A spirit and judgment equal or superior

(And what he brings, what needs he elsewhere seek?),

Uncertain and unsettled still remains,

Beep versed in books and shallow in himself,

Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys

And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge;

As children gathering pebbles on the shore."

Irritated by the failure of all his attempts, Satan next taunts his

opponent by describing the sufferings and humiliations he will have to

undergo, until, seeing this too has no effect, he suddenly bears him

back to the wilderness, where he leaves him for the night, during

which he sends a terrific storm to appall him. Even in sleep Jesus is

haunted by dreams and spectres sent by the tempter, but at dawn all

these visions disappear, the storm dies down, and a lovely morning

greets him when he awakes. Once more Satan appears to warn our Lord

that the dreams of the night and the horrors of the tempest were

foreshadowings of what he will have to undergo. In spite of this,

Christ assures him he is toiling in vain; whereupon swollen with rage,

Satan confesses that ever since he heard Gabriel's announcement to the

shepherds in regard to Christ's birth, he has watched him, hoping to

get some hold upon him during his infancy, youth, or early manhood. He

now inquires whether Christ is really his destined foe and reluctantly

admits he has failed in all his endeavors to tempt him. But one last

test still remains to be tried, for Satan suddenly conveys Christ to

the topmost pinnacle of the Temple of Jerusalem, bidding him

demonstrate his divinity by fearlessly casting himself down, since God

has "given his angels charge concerning him."

Not only, does our Lord reprove the tempter, but so calmly manifests

his divine power by standing erect on this dangerous point, that

Satan--like all other defeated monsters, such as the Sphinx--falls

howling down into the infernal regions. At the same time angels convey

our Lord to a lovely valley, where they minister unto him with

celestial food and celebrate his victory with a triumphal hymn, for

the Son of God has successfully resisted the tempter, before whom Adam

succumbed, and has thereby saved man from the penalty of his sin.

Henceforth Satan will never again dare set foot in Paradise, where

Adam and his chosen descendants are to dwell secure, while the Son of

Man completes the work he has been sent to do.

Thus they the Son of God, our Saviour meek,

Sung victor, and from heavenly feast refreshed

Brought on his way with joy; he unobserved

Home to his mother's private house returned.

GERMAN EPICS

German literature begins after the great migrations (_circa_ 600), and

its earliest samples are traditional songs of an epic character, like

the Hildebrandslied. Owing to diversities of race and speech, there

are in southern and northern Germany various epic cycles which cluster

around such heroes as Ermanrich the Goth, Dietrich von Bern, Theodoric

the East Goth, Attila the Hun, Gunther the Burgundian, Otfried the

Langobardian, and Sigfried--perchance a Frisian, or, as some

authorities claim, the famous Arminius who triumphed over the Romans.

The Hildebrandslied relates how Hildebrand, after spending thirty

years in Hungary, returns to North Italy, leaving behind him a wife

and infant son Hadubrand. A false rumor of Hildebrand's death reaches

Hungary when Hadubrand has achieved great renown as a warrior, so,

when in quest for adventure the young man meets his father, he deems

him an impostor and fights with him until the poem breaks off, leaving

us uncertain whether father or son was victorious. But later poets,

such as Kaspar von der Rhön, give the story a happy ending, thus

avoiding the tragic note struck in Sorab and Rustem (p. 410).

There existed so many of these ancient epic songs that Charlemagne

undertook to collect them, but Louis I, his all too pious son,

destroyed this collection on his accession to the throne, because,

forsooth, these epics glorified the pagan gods his ancestors had

worshipped!

Still not all the Teutonic epics are of pagan origin, for in the

second period we find such works as Visions of Judgment (Muspilli),

Lives of Saints, and biblical narratives like Heliant (the Saviour),

Judith, the Exodus, der Krist by Otfried, and monkish-political works

like the Ludwigslied, or history of the invasion of the Normans. There

is also the epic of Walter von Aquitanien, which, although written in

Latin, shows many traces of German origin.

In Walther von Aquitanien we have an epic of the Burgundian-Hunnish

cycle written by Ekkehard of St. Gall before 973. It relates the escape

of Walther von Aquitanien and his betrothed Hildegund from the court

of Attila, where the young man was detained as a hostage. After

describing their preparations for flight, their method of travel and

camping, the poet relates how they were overtaken in the Vosges

Mountains by a force led by Gunther and Hagen, who wish to secure the

treasures they are carrying. Warned in time by Hildegund,--who keeps

watch while he sleeps,--Walther dons his armor, and single-handed

disposes of many foes. When Gunther Hagen, and Walther alone survive,

although sorely disabled, peace is concluded, and the lovers resume

their journey and reach Aquitania safely, where they reign happily

thirty years.

In the third period "the crusades revived the epic memories of

Charlemagne and Roland and of the triumphs of Alexander," thus giving

birth to a Rolandslied and an Alexanderlied, as well as to endless

chivalrie epics, or romances in verse and prose.

The Rolandslied--an art epic--gives the marriage and banishment of

Charlemagne's sister Bertha, the birth of Roland, the manner in which

he exacted tribute from his playmates to procure clothes, his first

appearance in his uncle's palace, his bold seizure of meat and drink

from the royal table to satisfy his mother's needs, Charlemagne's

forgiveness of his sister for the sake of her spirited boy, the

episode regarding the giant warrior in the Ardennes, the fight with

Oliver, the ambush at Roncevaux, and end with Roland's death and the

punishment of the traitor Ganelon. But later legends claim that

Roland, recovering from the wounds received at Roncevaux, returned to

Germany and to his fiancée Aude, who, deeming him dead, had meantime

taken the veil. We next have Roland's sorrow, the construction of his

hermitage at Rolandseek, [24] whence he continually overlooks the

island of Nonnenwörth and the convent where his beloved is wearing her

life away in prayers for his soul. This cycle concludes with Roland's

death and burial on this very spot, his face still turned toward the

grave where his sweetheart rests.

In the Langobardian cycle[25] also is the tale of "Rother," supposed

to be Charlemagne's grandfather, one of the court epics of the Lombard

cycle. In King Rother we have the abduction by Rother of the emperor's

daughter, her recovery by her father, and Rother's pursuit and final

reconquest of his wife. The next epic in the cycle, "Otnit," related

the marriage of this king to a heathen princess, her father's gift of

dragon's eggs, and the hatching of these monsters, which ultimately

cause the death of Otnit and infest Teutonic lands with their progeny.

Then come the legends of Hug-Dietrich and Wolf-Dietrich, which

continue the Lombard cycle and pursue the adventures of Otnit to his

death.

The legend of Herzog Ernst is still popular, and relates how a duke of

Bavaria once made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and lived through endless

thrilling adventures on the way.

The greatest of all the German epics is undoubtedly the

Nibelungenlied,--of which we give a synopsis,--which is often termed

the Iliad of Germany, while "Gudrun" is considered its Odyssey. This

folk epic relates how Hagan, son of a king, was carried off at seven

years of age by a griffin. But, before the monster or its young could

devour him, the sturdy child effected his escape into the wilderness,

where he grew up with chance-found companions. Rescued finally by a

passing ship, these young people are threatened with slavery, but

spared so sad a fate thanks to Hagan's courage. Hagan now returns

home, becomes king, and has a child, whose daughter Gudrun is carried

away from father and lover by a prince of Zealand. On his way home,

the kidnapper is overtaken by his pursuers and wages a terrible battle

on the Wülpensand, wherein he proves victorious. But the kidnapper

cannot induce Gudrun to accept his attentions, although he tries hard

to win her love. His mother, exasperated by this resistance finally

undertakes to force Gudrun to submit by dint of hardships, and even

sends her out barefoot in the snow to do the family washing. While

thus engaged, Gudrun and her faithful companion are discovered by the

princess' brother and lover, who arrange the dramatic rescue of the

damsels, whom they marry.[26]

Next in order come the philosophic epics of Wolfram von Eschenbach,

including the immortal Parzifal--which has been used by Tennyson and

Wagner in their poems and opera--and the poetic tales of Gottfried of

Strassburg, whose Tristan und Isolde, though unfinished, is a fine

piece of work. Hartmann von der Aue is author of Erek und Enide,--the

subject of Tennyson's poem,--of Der arme Heinrich,--which served as

foundation for Longfellow's Golden Legend,--and of Iwein or the Knight

with the Lion.

Among the Minnesingers of greatest note are Walther von der

Vogelweide, Wolfram von Eschenbach, and later, when their

head-quarters were at Nüremberg, Hans Sachs. Their favorite themes

were court epics, dealing especially with the legends of Arthur, of

the Holy Grail, and of Charles the Great. Many of these epics are

embodied in the Heldenbuch, or Book of Heroes, compiled in the

fifteenth century by Kaspar von der Rhön, while the Abenteuerbuch

contains many of these legends as well as Der Rosengarten and König

Laurin.

In the second part of the thirteenth century artificiality and

vulgarity began to preponderate, provoking as counterweights didactic

works such as Der Krieg auf der Wartburg. The fourteenth century saw

the rise of the free cities, literary guilds, and five universities.

It also marks the cultivation of political satire in such works as

Reinecke Fuchs, and of narrative prose chronicles like the Lüneburger,

Alsatian, and Thuringian Chronicles, which are sometimes termed prose

epics. The Volksbücher also date from this time, and have preserved

for us many tales which would otherwise have been lost, such as the

legends of the Wandering Jew and Dr. Faustus.

The age of Reformation proved too serious for poets to indulge in any

epics save new versions of Reinecke Fuchs and Der Froschmeuseler, and

after the Thirty Years' War the first poem of this class really worthy

of mention is Klopstock's Messias, or epic in twenty books on the life

and mission of Christ and the fulfilment of the task for which he was

foreordained.

Contemporary with Klopstock are many noted writers, who distinguished

themselves in what is known as the classic period of German

literature. This begins with Goethe's return from Italy, when he, with

Schiller's aid, formed a classical school of literature in Germany.

While Schiller has given us the immortal epic drama "William Tell,"

Goethe produced the idyllic epic "Hermann und Dorothea," the

dramatical epic "Faust," and an inimitable version of the animal epic

"Reinecke Fuchs."

Wieland also was a prolific writer in many fields; inspired by the

Arabian Nights, Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, and Huon de

Bordeaux, [27] he composed an allegorical epic entitled "Oberon,"

wherein "picture after picture is unfolded to his readers," and which

has since served as a theme for musicians and painters.

Since Goethe's day Wagner has made the greatest and most picturesque

use of the old German epic material, for the themes of nearly all his

operas are drawn from this source.[28]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 24: See the author's "Legends of the Rhine."]

[Footnote 25: See the author's "Legends of the Middle Ages."]

[Footnote 26: Detailed accounts of "Gudrun" and several other of these

subordinate epics can be found in the author's "Legends of the Middle

Ages."]

[Footnote 27: See the author's "Legends of the Middle Ages."]

[Footnote 28: See the author's "Stories of the Wagner Operas."]

THE NIBELUNGENLIED[29]

The Nibelungenlied, or Song of the Nibelungs, was written about the

beginning of the thirteenth century although it relates events dating

back to the sixth or seventh. Some authorities claim it consists of

twenty songs of various dates and origin, others that it is the work

of a single author. The latter ascribe the poem to Conrad von

Kürenberg, Wolfram von Eschenbach, Heinrich von Ofterdingen, or

Walther von der Vogelweide. The poem is divided into thirty-nine

"adventures," and contains two thousand four hundred and fifty-nine

stanzas of four lines each. The action covers a period of about thirty

years and is based on materials taken from the Frankish, Burgundian,

Austro-Gothic, and Hunnish saga cycles.

Dietrich von Bern, one of the characters, is supposed to be Theodoric

of Italy, while Etzel has been identified with Attila the Hun, and the

Gunther with a king of the Burgundians who was destroyed with all his

followers by the Huns in 436.

_1st Adventure._ Three Burgundian princes dwell at Worms on the Rhine,

where, at the time when the poem opens their sister Kriemhild is

favored by a vision wherein two eagles pursue a falcon and tear it to

pieces when it seeks refuge on her breast.

A dream was dreamt by Kriemhild the virtuous and the gay,

How a wild young falcon she train'd for many a day,

Till two fierce eagles tore it; to her there could not be

In all the world such sorrow as this perforce to see.[30]

Knowing her mother expert at interpreting dreams, Kriemhild inquires

what this means, only to learn that her future spouse will be attacked

by grim foes. This note of tragedy, heard already in the very

beginning of the poem, is repeated at intervals until it seems like

the reiterated tolling of a funeral bell. _2d Adventure._ The poem

now transfers us to Xanten on the Rhine, where King Siegmund and his

wife hold a tournament for the coming of age of their only son

Siegfried, who distinguishes himself greatly and in whose behalf his

mother lavishes rich gifts upon all present.

The gorgeous feast it lasted till the seventh day was o'er;

Siegelind the wealthy did as they did of yore;

She won for valiant Siegfried the hearts of young and old

When for his sake among them she shower'd the ruddy gold.

_3d Adventure._ Hearing of the beauty of Kriemhild, Siegfried decides

to go and woo her, taking with him only a troop of eleven men. His

arrival at Worms causes a sensation, and Hagen of Tronje--a cousin of

King Gunther--informs his master that this visitor once distinguished

himself by slaying a dragon and that he is owner of the vast

Nibelungen hoard. This treasure once belonged to two brothers, who

implored Siegfried to divide it between them, a task he undertook in

exchange for the sword--Balmung--which lay on top of the heap of gold.

But no sooner had he made the division than the brothers mortally

wounded each other and died on their heaps of gold, leaving their

treasure to Siegfried, who thus became the richest man in the world.

On hearing the new-comer announce he has come to challenge Gunther to

a duel, the Burgundians are dismayed, but they soon succeed in

disarming their guest, and finally persuade him to remain with them a

year, entertaining him with games and tournaments in which Siegfried

distinguished himself greatly, to the satisfaction of Kriemhild who

witnesses his prowess through a latticed window.

_4th Adventure._ Toward the end of Siegfried's visit, it is reported

that the kings of Saxony and Denmark are advancing with four thousand

men. The dismay of the Burgundians is such that Siegfried proposes to

go forth and overpower the enemy with a force of merely one thousand

men. Only too glad to accept this offer, Gunther allows Siegfried to

depart, and is overjoyed when the young hero comes back with two

prisoner monarchs in his train. The messenger who announces

Siegfried's triumph is, moreover, richly rewarded by Kriemhild, who

flushes with pleasure on hearing the praise bestowed upon her hero.

_5th Adventure._ After describing the tournament held at Worms in

honor of this victory, the poet tells us how Siegfried and Kriemhild

met there face to face, and how they fell in love with each other at

first sight.

Now went she forth, the loveliest, as forth the morning goes

From misty clouds out-beaming; then all his weary woes

Left him, in heart who bore her, and so, long time, had done.

He saw there stately standing the fair, the peerless one.

The result was of course an immediate proposal, which Gunther was glad

to accept in his sister's name.

_6th Adventure._ He bargained, however, that before Siegfried claimed

his bride he should go with him to Isenland, and help him win the hand

of Brunhild, the finest woman in the world. Gunther needs Siegfried's

help in his wooing, because Brunhild has vowed to marry only the man

who can throw a spear and stone farther than she and surpass her in

jumping. Siegfried, who apparently possesses some knowledge of this

lady, vainly tries to dissuade Gunther, and, when he decides to

accompany him in his quest, suggests that Hagen and another knight

form their train. Kriemhild provides the travellers with suitable

garments, made by her own hands, and the four embark on a small

vessel, in which they sail down the Rhine and out to sea, reaching

Isenland only twelve days after their start. As they near this land,

Siegfried strictly charges his companions to tell every one he is

Gunther's vassal, and immediately begins to act as if such were indeed

his real station.

_7th Adventure._ Gazing out of her window, Brunhild perceives the

approaching ship, and, recognizing within it Siegfried,--who visited

her realm once before,--her heart beats with joy at the thought that

he has come to woo her. She is, however, amazed to see him hold

Gunther's stirrup when they land, and to learn it is the king of

Burgundy who sues for her hand. In her disappointment Brunhild grimly

warns the new-comer that, unless he prove successful, he and his men

must die.

"He must cast the stone beyond me, and after it must leap,

Then with me shoot the javelin; too quick a pace you keep;

Stop and awhile consider, and reckon well the cost,"

The warrioress made answer, "ere life and fame be lost."

Undeterred by this threat, Gunther volunteers to undergo the test, but

he quails when he sees the heavy spear which Brunhild brandishes and

when he perceives that twelve men stagger beneath the weight she

proposes to throw. He is, however, somewhat reassured when Siegfried

whispers he need but go through the motions, while his friend,

concealed by the Tarncappe,--the cloak of invisibility which endows

the wearer with the strength of twelve men,--will perform the required

feats in his behalf.

Said he, "Off with the buckler and give it me to bear,

Now, what I shall advise thee, mark with thy closest care.

Be it thine to make the gestures, and mine the work to do."

Glad man was then king Gunther, when he his helpmate knew.

In the first test Brunhild casts a spear with such force that both

Gunther and his invisible companion stagger and nearly fall, but, just

as she is about to cry victory, Siegfried sends back the spear

butt-end foremost and brings her to her knees. Veiling her dismay at

this first defeat, Brunhild hurls the stone to a great distance and

lands beside it with a flying leap. In Gunther's place the invisible

Siegfried hurls the same stone much farther than Brunhild, and seizing

Gunther by his belt jumps with him to the spot where it alighted.

Having thus been outdone in all three feats of strength, Brunhild no

longer refuses her hand to Gunther, who appears triumphant, although

his prospective bride looks strangely solemn and angry.

_8th Adventure._ Because Brunhild summons to her castle a large number

of warriors, under pretext of celebrating her nuptials, Siegfried

sails off unseen to the land of the Nibelungs, where he batters at

his castle gate demanding admittance. As the wary dwarf guardian of

the Nibelung hoard refuses to admit him, Siegfried fights him and

after conquering him compels him to recognize his authority. Then he

bids a thousand Nibelung warriors accompany him back to Isenland, and

Brunhild, seeing this force approaching and learning from Gunther it

is part of his suite, no longer dares to resist.

_9th Adventure._ The fair bride, escorted by all these men, now sails

across the sea and up the Rhine. As they near Burgundy, Gunther

decides to send word of their arrival, and persuades Siegfried to act

as his messenger by assuring him he will earn Kriemhild's gratitude.

Said he, "Nay, gentle Siegfried, do but this journey take,

Not for my sake only, but for my sister's sake.

You'll oblige fair Kriemhild in this as well as me."

When so implor'd was Siegfried, ready at once was he.

_10th Adventure._ Not only does Siegfried receive the fair lady's

hearty thanks, but he acts as her escort when she hastens down to the

bank to welcome her brother and his bride. The poem then describes the

kissing, speeches, and grand tournament held to welcome Brunhild, as

well as the banquet where Siegfried publicly reminds Gunther he

promised him Kriemhild's hand as soon as Brunhild was won. Exclaiming

this promise shall immediately be redeemed, Gunther sends for his

sister, although his new wife openly wonders he should bestow her hand

upon a mere vassal. Silencing his bride's objections, Gunther confers

Kriemhild's hand upon Siegfried, and thus two bridal couples sit side

by side at the evening meal.

The hour having come for retiring, Gunther, attempting to embrace his

bride, is dismayed to find himself seized, bound fast, and hung up on

a peg, where he dangles all night in spite of piteous entreaties to be

set free. It is only a moment before the servants enter on the morrow

that Brunhild consents to release her spouse, so when the bridegrooms

appear in public, everybody notices that while Siegfried is radiant,

Gunther's brow is clouded by a heavy frown. In course of the day, the

King of Burgundy confides to his new brother-in-law the cause of his

displeasure, whereupon Siegfried promises to don his cloud cloak that

evening and compel Gunther's bride to treat her husband henceforth

with due respect. True to this promise, Siegfried, unseen, follows

Gunther and Brunhild into their apartment that night, and, the lights

having been extinguished, wrestles with the bride until she

acknowledges herself beaten. Although fancying she is yielding to

Gunther, it is Siegfried who snatches her girdle and ring before

leaving Gunther to reap the benefit of his victory, for Brunhild,

having submitted to a man, loses her former fabulous strength.

Meanwhile Siegfried returns to Kriemhild, imprudently relates how he

has been occupied, and bestows upon her the girdle and ring.

_11th Adventure._ The wedding festivities finished, Siegfried returns

to Xanten with his bride, who is escorted thither by her faithful

henchman Ekkewart, who has vowed to follow her wherever she goes.

Siegfried's parents not only receive the bride cordially, but

relinquish their throne to the young couple, who live together most

happily and are overjoyed at the advent of a son.

_12th Adventure._ Twelve whole years elapse ere Brunhild asks Gunther

how it happens his vassal Siegfried has never yet come to Worms to do

homage? Although Gunther now assures his wife Siegfried is a king in

his own right, she nevertheless insists her brother-in-law and his

wife should be invited to Worms, a suggestion which Gunther is only

too glad to carry out.

_13th Adventure._ Overjoyed at the prospect of revisiting the scene of

their courtship, Siegfried and Kriemhild return to Worms, leaving

their infant son at home, but taking with them Siegfried's father who

has recently lost his wife. To honor her sister-in-law, Brunhild

welcomes Kriemhild with the same state that heralded her own entrance

at Worms. Banquets and tournaments also take place, whereat the two

queens try to outshine each other. One day, while sitting together

extolling their husband's virtues, a quarrel arises, during which

Brunhild curtly informs Kriemhild her husband can scarcely be as great

as she pretends, seeing he is merely Gunther's vassal!

_14th Adventure._ Of course Kriemhild hotly denies this, and, when

Brunhild insists, declares she will prove her husband's superiority by

claiming precedence at the church door. Instigated by wrath, both

ladies deck themselves magnificently and arrive simultaneously to

attend mass, escorted by imposing trains. Seeing Kriemhild make a

motion as if to enter first, Brunhild bids her pause, and the two

ladies begin an exchange of uncomplimentary remarks. In the heat of

the quarrel, Kriemhild insinuates that Brunhild granted Siegfried

bridal favors, and in proof thereof exhibits Brunhild's girdle and

ring! Brunhild immediately sends for Gunther, who, helpless between

two angry women, summons Siegfried. Bluntly declaring wives should be

kept in order, Siegfried undertakes to discipline Kriemhild, provided

Gunther will reduce Brunhild to subjection, and publicly swears he

never approached the Burgundian queen in any unseemly way. In spite of

this public apology, Brunhild refuses to be comforted, and, as her

husband utterly refuses to take active measures to avenge her, she

finally prevails upon her kinsman Hagen to take up her quarrel. Under

the mistaken impression that she has been grievously wronged by

Siegfried, Hagen urges Gunther to attack his brother-in-law, until the

weak king yields to the pressure thus brought to bear by his angry

wife and kinsman.

None urged the matter further, except that Hagen still

Kept ever prompting Gunther the guiltless blood to spill;

Saying, that, if Siegfried perish'd, his death to him would bring

The sway o'er many a kingdom. Sore mourn'd the wavering king.

_15th Adventure._ A cunning plan is now devised by Hagen whereby

Siegfried is informed that the monarchs he once conquered have again

risen up in rebellion. Of course Siegfried volunteers to subdue them

once more, and Kriemhild, hearing he is about to start for war,

expresses great anxiety for his safety. Under pretext of sympathy,

Hagen inquires why Kriemhild feels any dread, seeing her husband is

invulnerable, and learns the secret that Siegfried can be injured in a

spot between his shoulders, because a lime-leaf, sticking fast there,

prevented the dragon's blood from touching that spot.[31]

"So now I'll tell the secret, dear friend, alone to thee

(For thou, I doubt not, cousin, will keep thy faith with me),

Where sword may pierce my darling, and death sit on the thrust,

See, in thy truth and honor how full, how firm my trust!"

Under pretext of protecting this vulnerable point, Hagen persuades

Kriemhild to embroider a cross on her husband's garment over the fatal

spot. Then, sure now of triumphing over this dreaded foe, he feigns

the kings have sent word they will submit, and proposes that instead

of fighting they all go hunting in the Odenwald.

_16th Adventure._ Troubled by strange presentiments, Kriemhild tries

to prevent Siegfried from going to the chase, but, laughing at her

fears, he departs joyfully, although he is never to see her again.

After describing the game slain in the course of this day's hunt, the

poet declares Siegfried captured a live bear and playfully let it

loose in amp, to the horror of his fellow hunters. Then, feeling

thirsty, Siegfried loudly began to call for drink, and, discovering

that owing to a mistake the wine has been conveyed to another part of

the forest, proposes that he, Gunther, and Hagen should race to a

neighboring spring, undertaking to perform the feat in full armor

while his companions run in light undress. Although handicapped,

Siegfried arrives first, but courteously steps aside to allow Gunther

to take a drink, pretending he wishes to remove his armor before

quenching his thirst. But, when he, in his turn, stoops over the

fountain, Hagen, after slyly removing his weapons out of his reach,

steals up behind him and runs a spear into the very spot where the

embroidered cross shines on his doublet. Mortally wounded, Siegfried

turns, and, grasping his shield, hurls it at the traitor with such

force that he dashes it to pieces.

E'en to the death though wounded, he hurl'd it with such power

That the whirling buckler scatter'd wide a shower

Of the most precious jewels, then straight in shivers broke.

Full gladly had the warrior ta'en vengeance with that stroke.

Sinking to the ground after this effort, Siegfried expends his last

breath in beseeching Gunther to watch over his wife. Gazing down at

the corpse, Gunther, afraid to acknowledge so dastardly a deed,

suggests they spread the report that Siegfried was slain by brigands

while hunting alone in the forest. Hagen, however, proud of his feat

does not intend to subscribe to this project, and plots further

villainy while following the body back to Worms.

_17th Adventure._ The funeral train arriving there at midnight, Hagen

directs the bearers to lay Siegfried's body at Kriemhild's door, so

that she may stumble over it when she comes out at dawn on her way to

mass. On perceiving that the dead body over which she has fallen is

that of her beloved spouse, Kriemhild faints, while her women raise a

mournful cry.

Roused from his slumbers by the terrible news, old Siegmund joins the

mourners, and he and the Nibelung knights carry the body to the

minster, where Kriemhild insists all those who took part in the hunt

shall file past it, for she hopes thereby to detect her husband's

murderer. (Mediaeval tradition averred that a dead man's wounds bled

whenever his murderer drew near.) Because Siegfried's wounds drop

blood at Hagen's touch, Kriemhild publicly denounces him as her

husband's slayer.

It is a mighty marvel, which oft e'en now we spy,

That, when the blood-stain'd murderer comes to the murder'd nigh,

The wounds break out a bleeding, then too the same befell,

And thus could each beholder the guilt of Hagen tell.

But, instead of showing remorse, Hagen boldly proclaims he merely did

his duty when he slew the man who cast a slur upon the honor of his

queen.

_18th Adventure._ Having laid his beloved son to rest, old Siegmund

returns home, after vainly urging Kriemhild to leave the place where

Siegfried is buried and return to her son, for, although Kriemhild's

mother and brothers try to show her every mark of sympathy, Brunhild

reveals no pity.

Meanwhile sat misproud Brunhild in haughtiness uncheck'd;

Of Kriemhild's tears and sorrows her it nothing reck'd.

She pitied not the mourner; she stoop'd not to the low.

Soon Kriemhild took full vengeance, and woe repaid with woe.

_19th Adventure._ Three years elapse before Hagen suggests to Gunther

that his sister send for the Nibelung hoard which was given her on her

marriage. Intending to employ it to buy masses and avengers for

Siegfried, Kriemhild gladly consents, and we are told twelve wagons

travelled four nights and days to convey the store of gold from the

Nibelung castle to the sea, whence it was carried to Kriemhild at

Worms. With such a treasure at her disposal, the widowed queen

proceeds to win so many adherents that Hagen, deeming this gold may

prove dangerous, advises her brothers to take possession of it. No

sooner have they done so than, fearing lest they may restore it to

Kriemhild, Hagen buries it in the Rhine, telling none but his masters

in what place it is hidden.

_20th Adventure._ Having lost his first wife, Etzel, king of Hungary,

now deems it advisable to marry again and secure an heir to his realm.

As no other woman seems so fitted for so exalted a station as

Kriemhild, Etzel sends his chief nobleman, Rudiger, to Worms with his

proposal. After tarrying a few days on the way with his wife and

daughter, this ambassador hurries to Worms, where he is welcomed by

Hagen, who had formerly spent several years as a hostage at Etzel's

court. Rudiger having made his errand known, Gunther beseeches three

days' time to ascertain his sister's wishes. Flattered by the prospect

of such an alliance, Gunther hopes Kriemhild will accept Etzel's

proposal, but Hagen rejoins that should she secure such powerful

allies, she might in time punish them for Siegfried's death. At first

the widowed Kriemhild refuses to listen to Etzel's offers, but, when

Rudiger swears to her past or future ills, she suddenly announces her

consent.

Then swore to her Sir Rudiger and all his knightly train

To serve her ever truly, and all her rights maintain,

Nor e'er of her due honors scant her in Etzel's land.

Thereto gave the good margrave th' assurance of his hand.

Then thought the faithful mourner, "with such a host of friends

Now the poor lonely widow may work her secret ends,

Nor care for what reflections the world on her may cast.

What if my lost beloved I may revenge at last?"

Then, still escorted by the faithful Ekkewart and carrying off with

her the small portion of the Nibelungen treasure which she still

retains, Kriemhild starts out for Hungary.

_21st Adventure._ The three Burgundian princes escort their sister to

the Danube and, taking leave of her there, allow her to proceed with

Rudiger to Passau, where her uncle, Bishop Pilgrin, gives her a warm

welcome. Thence the travellers proceed to Rudiger's castle, where his

wife and daughter entertain their future queen, who bestows upon them

costly treasures. Resuming her journey, Kriemhild is now met on all

sides by the ovations of her future subjects.

_22d Adventure._ When Etzel and his chief noblemen finally meet her,

Kriemhild courteously kisses her future spouse, as well as the men

whom he points out as worthy of such distinction. Among these is

Dietrich of Bern, one of the heroes of the poem, and it is under his

escort that the king and queen of Hungary proceed to Vienna, where

their marriage festivities last seventeen days.

_23d Adventure._ Seven years elapse, and, although Kriemhild has a son

by Etzel, she still grieves for Siegfried and continually broods over

her wrongs. One day she suddenly suggests that King Etzel invite her

kinsmen to Hungary, and, when he consents, gives special instructions

to the bards who bear the message to make sure that Hagen accompanies

her brothers.

_24th Adventure._ After fourteen days' journey the minstrels reach

Worms and deliver their message. All are in favor of accepting this

invitation save Hagen, who remarks that such friendliness seems

suspicious. When his master retorts a guilty conscience harbors fear,

Hagen stoutly avers he is ready to serve as guide, suggesting,

however, that they journey fully armed, with an escort of a thousand

men, so as to cope with treachery should such occur.

"Turn, while there's time for safety, turn, warriors most and least;

For this, and for this only, you're bidden to the feast,

That you perforce may perish in Etzel's bloody land.

Whoever rideth thither, Death has he close at hand."

_25th Adventure._ Dismissed with the old queen's blessing, the

Burgundians leave Brunhild and her son in charge of a steward, and set

out. As they are now sole possessors of the great Nibelung hoard, the

poet terms them Nibelungs in the remainder of his work. Under the

guidance of Hagen, who alone knows the way, the party reaches the

banks of the Danube, where, finding no vessels to ferry them across,

Hagen bids them wait until he provide means of transportation. Walking

down the river, he surprises three swan-maidens bathing, and by

capturing their garments induces them to predict the future. Although

one promises him all manner of pleasant things to recover her plumes,

her companions, having secured theirs, warn Hagen that none but the

priest will return safely to Burgundy, and inform him that he can

secure a boat by assuring the ferry-man on the opposite bank that his

name is Amalung.

Thanks to this hint, Hagen induces the ferry-man to cross the river

and springs into his boat, before the man, discovering the trick,

attacks him with his oar. Forced to defend himself, Hagen slays the

ferry-man, takes possession of his boat, and then proceeds to convey

relays of the Burgundian army across the river. During his last trip,

perceiving the chaplain on board and wishing to give the lie to the

swan-maidens' prophecy, Hagen flings the priest into the water; but

the long ecclesiastical garments buoy up their wearer and enable him

to regain the bank which he has just left, whence he makes his way

back to Burgundy. On perceiving the priest's escape, Hagen realizes

none of the rest will return, so grimly destroys the boat as soon as

he is through with it. Then he directs his friends to ride onward,

leaving him to guard their rear, for he knows the boatman's friends

will pursue and attack them.

_26th Adventure._ Although Hagen's apprehensions are soon justified,

the Burgundians fight so bravely that their assailants are defeated. A

little farther on they find a man sleeping by the roadside, and

discover it is Ekkewart, lying in wait to warn them that Kriemhild

cherishes evil intentions. But, undeterred by this warning also, the

Burgundians continue their journey, and visit Bishop Pilgrin and

Rudiger on their way.

_27th Adventure._ While at Rudiger's,--where the ladies welcome all

save Hagen with a kiss, and where the host lavishes gifts upon his

guests,--Hagen suggests that a marriage be arranged between Giseler,

the youngest Burgundian prince, and Rudiger's daughter. In compliance

with this suggestion, a formal betrothal takes place.

Then had the bride and bridegroom within a ring to stand,

For such was then the custom; a merry stripling band

Encircled the fair couple, and gaz'd on them their fill,

And thought the while as idly as think young people still.

This ceremony over, Rudiger prepares to guide the Burgundians to

Etzel's court, where Kriemhild is rejoicing to think they will soon

appear.

_28th Adventure._ So patent are Kriemhild's evil intentions, that

Dietrich of Bern and his faithful henchman Hildebrand also caution the

Burgundians to be on their guard. This second warning impresses the

visitors, who at Hagen's suggestion announce they will retain their

weapons for three days. When they arrive at the palace, Kriemhild

cordially embraces her youngest brother, but refuses the same welcome

to the two others, and grimly asks Hagen whether he has brought her

gold. When he bluntly rejoins her treasures will remain in the Rhine

until Doomsday, she abruptly turns her back upon him, and invites the

rest to enter the palace, leaving their arms at the door. Thereupon

Hagen announces his masters have vowed to spend the next three days in

arms, a measure which Dietrich openly approves, informing Kriemhild to

her very face that he is sure she means no good.

_29th Adventure._ Although the three royal brothers accompany

Kriemhild into the palace, Hagen lingers at the door, and, inviting

the minstrel Volker to sit on the bench beside him, confides to him

his fears, entreating him to stand by him, and promising to do the

same in his behalf should the need occur.

"Tell me now, friend Volker, will you stand me by,

If these men of Kriemhild's would my mettle try?

Show me, if you love me, faithful friend and true!

And when you need my service I'll do as much for you."

On seeing her foe so close at hand, Kriemhild summons four hundred

warriors, and bids them attack Hagen, for at present _he_ is the only

one against whom she has sinister designs. To prove to the men that

Hagen is guilty, she offers to meet and question her foe in their

presence. On seeing her coming, Volker suggests they rise in token of

respect, but Hagen grimly rejoins Kriemhild would merely take such

politeness as a proof of weakness. Instead of rising, he therefore

ostentatiously lays Siegfried's sword across his lap. After taunting

Hagen with slaying her husband,--a charge he does not deny,--Kriemhild

orders her men to slay him, but a single glance of his fiery eyes

sends them back cringing, and the queen cannot prevail upon them to

renew the attack. Seeing this, Volker and Hagen boldly join their

friends in the banquet-hall, where Etzel--who is depicted as an

inoffensive, unsuspicious old man--cordially bids them welcome.

_30th Adventure._ On their way to their sleeping quarters that night,

the Burgundians are jostled by some Huns, who, instigated by

Kriemhild, are evidently seeking to provoke a quarrel. In spite of

their efforts, however, the Burgundians reach their dormitory in

safety, where Hagen and Volker watch all night at the door to guard

against surprise. It is well for them they do so, because at midnight

Kriemhild dispatches a force to attack them, but again the Huns shrink

away appalled on meeting Hagen's menacing glance.

_31st Adventure._ At dawn the Burgundians, still fully armed, march

off to church, and after service proceed with the king and queen to

view a tournament held in their honor. In these games Rudiger and

Dietrich both refuse to take part, lest an accident should occur.

Their previsions are justified, for, when Volker inadvertently slays a

Hun, Kriemhild loudly clamors for vengeance, although her husband

implores that peace be maintained. Fomented by Kriemhild's secret

efforts, such bad feelings have arisen among the Huns against their

guests, that Etzel's own brother finally undertakes to compass their

death. Meantime the old king, having invited the Burgundians to a

banquet, is surprised to see the princes arrive fully armed, but tries

to show his friendship by promising they shall bring up his son.

_32d Adventure._ While the Burgundians are banqueting with the king of

Hungary, their men are resting in the hall where they slept, under the

charge of Dankwart, Hagen's brother. There they are suddenly attacked

by some Huns, and, although they manage to slay most of their first

assailants, the deaths they deal kindle lasting animosity in the

breast of the rest of the Huns. New forces therefore press into the

hall, until all the Burgundians are slain, save Dankwart, who, cutting

his way through the enemy's serried ranks, rushes into the hall where

his brother is feasting, and reports what has occurred.

"Be stirring, brother Hagen, you're sitting all too long.

To you and God in heaven our deadly strait I plain;

Yeomen and knights together lie in their quarters slain."

_33d Adventure._ No sooner has this cry reached his ear, than Hagen,

whipping out his sword, cuts off the head of Etzel's child, which

bounces into its mother's lap. Then, calling to his brother to prevent

any escape, Hagen shears off the hand of the minstrel who invited them

to Hungary, before he begins slashing right and left. Paralyzed by the

sight of their headless son, Etzel and Kriemhild sit immovable on

their thrones, while Hagen despatches Volker to help Dankwart guard

the door, and bids his masters make use of their weapons while they

may. Although the Burgundians now slay ruthlessly, mindful of the

kindness shown by Dietrich and Rudiger they refrain from attacking

them or their men. When these noblemen therefore beg permission to

pass out safely with their friends, their request is unquestionably

granted. Grasping the king and queen by the hand, Dietrich then leads

them out of the hall, closely followed by Rudiger and their respective

men, while the Burgundians continue the massacre until not a living

foe is left in the hall.

_34th Adventure._ Weary of slaughter, the Burgundians now sit down for

a moment to rest, but, finding the presence of so many corpses

distasteful, they fling seven hundred victims down the steps, those

who are merely wounded being killed by the fall. The Huns, who come to

pick up their dead, now set up so loud and persistent a cry for

revenge, that their monarch is compelled to prepare a force to oust

the Burgundians from his banquet-hall. Seeing the aged monarch himself

advance at the head of the troops, Hagen, who guards the door, loudly

jeers at him, whereupon Kriemhild offers an immense reward to any one

who will bring her his head.

_35th Adventure._ The first to try to earn this guerdon is a Dane, who

not only succeeds in entering the hall but in effecting a retreat.

When, emboldened by this first success, he advances a second time with

a new force, he is killed as well as his men.

_36th Adventure._ After a second brief rest, the Burgundians prepare

to meet a new assault directed by Kriemhild, whose wrath now involves

all her kinsmen, although at first she meditated the death of Hagen

alone. The murder of his child has incensed even Etzel, and the Huns

plan a general massacre to avenge their slain. Although the

Burgundians offer to meet Etzel's forces in fair fight provided they

can return home unmolested if victorious, Kriemhild urges her husband

to refuse unless Hagen is delivered up to their tender mercies.

Deeming it dishonorable to forsake a companion, the Burgundians reject

these terms, whereupon Kriemhild, whose fury has reached a frantic

point, orders the hall set on fire.

Although the queen fancies the Burgundians will be roasted alive, the

hall being built of stone offers them a place of refuge, and, as they

quench in blood all the sparks that enter, they succeed in maintaining

their position.

'Twas well for the Burgundians that vaulted was the roof;

This was, in all their danger, the more to their behoof.

Only about the windows from fire they suffer'd sore.

Still, as their spirit impell'd them, themselves they bravely bore.

The intensity of the heat causes such thirst, however, that Hagen bids

his companions quench that too in the blood of the slain. Thus, six

hundred Burgundians are found alive when a new Hungarian force bursts

into the hall.

_37th Adventure._ Having failed in this third attempt, Kriemhild

reminds Rudiger of his solemn oath, and bids him redeem his promise by

slaying the Burgundians. Although this nobleman pleads with the queen,

offering instead to relinquish all he owns and leave her land a

beggar, she insists upon his obedience to her commands. Fully armed,

Rudiger, therefore, finally marches toward the hall and, arriving at

the foot of the staircase, explains his position to the Burgundians.

Knowing his generosity, Hagen, whose shield has been cut to pieces,

begs for the one Rudiger carries, and, after receiving it, declares he

will give a good account of himself before he yields. The signal for

battle is then given and Rudiger and his men enter the hall, where,

after many have fallen on both sides, Gernot, one of Kriemhild's

brothers, and Rudiger slay each other.

_38th Adventure._ A new batch of corpses having been flung down

stairs, such a lament arises among the Huns that Dietrich of Bern

inquires what it may mean. On learning that Rudiger has been slain,

Dietrich bids Hildebrand go and claim his corpse, but, instead of

acting merely as ambassador, this warrior first bandies words with

Volker and then slays him. Seeing this, Hagen drives him down the

stairs, and discovers that all the Burgundians have now been slain,

and that he and Gunther alone remain alive in the hall. Meantime

Hildebrand having reported to Dietrich all that has occurred, this

chief, hearing most of his men have perished, sallies forth to avenge

them.

_39th Adventure._ On approaching the hall, Dietrich summons Hagen and

Gunther to surrender, promising to use his influence to secure their

safe return home; but the two Burgundians, feeling sure Kriemhild will

show no mercy, refuse to yield. A duel, therefore, takes place between

Dietrich and the exhausted Hagen, in the course of which, by means of

a sudden feint, Dietrich seizes and binds his foe. Then, leading him

to Kriemhild, he implores her to be merciful to this prisoner, while

he returns to secure Gunther also.

"Fair and noble Kriemhild," thus Sir Dietrich spake,

"Spare this captive warrior who full amends will make

For all his past transgressions; him here in bonds you see;

Revenge not on the fetter'd th' offences of the free."

While Dietrich is securing Gunther in the same way, the queen, left

alone with Hagen, again demands her treasures. Hagen rejoins that,

having promised never to reveal their hiding-place as long as his

lords live, he cannot reveal the secret to her. Hearing this

statement, Kriemhild, whose cruelty now knows no bounds, orders

Gunther--her last brother--slain, and herself carries his head to

Hagen, as proof there is no more reason for guarding the secret.

Proudly informing her, since it now depends upon him alone, it will

remain secret forever, Hagen so exasperates Kriemhild that, drawing

from its scabbard the sword which once belonged to Siegfried, she hews

off her prisoner's head with one revengeful stroke! Although neither

her husband nor Hildebrand have been quick enough to forestall this

crime, the latter is so exasperated by Kriemhild's cruelty that he now

slays her in his turn.

Hildebrand the aged, fierce on Kriemhild sprung;

To the death he smote her as his sword he swung.

Sudden and remorseless he his wrath did wreak.

What could then avail her her fearful thrilling shriek!

It is, therefore, in the presence of her corpse that Dietrich and

Etzel utter the loud lament with which the Nibelungenlied closes.

There is, however, another poem called the Nibelungenklage, or the

Lament of the Nibelungs, wherein Etzel, Dietrich, Hildebrand, Bishop

Pilgrin, and the rest utter successive laments over the slain. Then

the spoil of the Burgundians is sent back to Worms, where these

lamentations are continued, each mourner reciting the deeds of the man

whose fate he bewails. This poem is, however, greatly inferior to the

real Nibelungenlied, and was evidently not composed by the same bard.

"'Tis more than I can tell you what afterward befell,

Save that there was weeping for friends belov'd so well

Knights and squires, dames and damsels, were seen lamenting all.

So here I end my story. This is the Nibelungers' Fall."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 29: See the author's "Legends of the Middle Ages."]

[Footnote 30: All the quotations in this chapter are from Lettsom's

translation of "The Nibelungenlied."]

[Footnote 31: See the author's "Legends of the Rhine."]

STORY OF THE HOLY GRAIL

The Anglo-Norman trouvères rightly considered the Story of the Holy

Grail the central point of interest of the Arthurian cycle, or the

grand climax in the legend.

So many versions of the tale have been written by poets of different

nationalities and different ages--all of whom have added

characteristic touches to the story--that, instead of following the

text of any one particular version, a general outline of the two

principal Holy Grail legends will be given here. Although all the

poets do not mention the origin of the Holy Grail, or sacred vessel, a

few trace its history back to the very beginning. They claim that

when Lucifer stood next to the Creator, or Father, in the heavenly

hierarchy, the other angels presented him with a wonderful crown,

whose central jewel was a flawless emerald of unusual size.

The advent of the Son, relegating Lucifer to the third instead of the

second place, occasioned his apostasy, which, as Milton explains, was

followed by war in heaven and by the expulsion of the rebel angels.

During his fall from the heights of heaven to the depths of hell, the

emerald, dropping out of Satan's crown, fell upon earth. There it was

fashioned into the cup or dish which Our Lord used during the Last

Supper, and in which Joseph of Arimathea caught a few drops of blood

which flowed from His side. After the Crucifixion the Jews walled

Joseph alive in a prison, where he was sustained in good health and

spirits by the Holy Grail, which he had taken with him. In this prison

Joseph lingered until Vespasian, hearing the story of Christ's

passion, sent messengers to Palestine for relics, hoping they might

cure his son Titus of leprosy. Restored to health by the sight of St.

Veronica's handkerchief,--which had wiped away the bloody sweat from

Our Lord's brow and bore the imprint of his feature,--Titus proceeded

to Jerusalem, where he summoned the Jews to produce the body of

Christ. Not being able to comply, they accused Joseph of having stolen

it. Thereupon Titus, continuing his investigations, found Joseph alive

and well in the prison where he was supposed to have perished. Free

once more, yet dreading further persecution, Joseph embarked, with his

sister and brother-in-law Brons, in a vessel bound for Marseilles, the

Holy Grail supplying all their needs during the journey. On landing in

France, Joseph was divinely instructed to construct a table, around

which he and his companions could be seated, and where the Holy Grail

supplied each guest with the food he preferred. But one seat at this

table, in memory of Judas, was to remain empty until a sinless man

came to occupy it. A sinner, once attempting to seat himself in it,

was swallowed up by the earth, and Joseph was informed that the

enchanter Merlin would in time make a similar table, where a

descendant of Brons would have the honor of occupying this "Siege

Perilous." From Marseilles, by gradual stages, and meeting with every

kind of adventure on the way, Joseph, or his descendants, conveyed the

Holy Grail to Glastonbury in England, where it remained visible until

people became too sinful for it to dwell any more in their midst. It

was then borne off to Sarras, an island city,--presumably located in

the Mediterranean,--where, according to one legend King Evelake

mounted guard over the treasure.

According to another legend, a pilgrim knight laid a golden cross on

the Holy Sepulchre, ardently praying for a son, whom at his birth he

named Titurel and dedicated to the service of the Lord. After this

Titurel had spent years in warfare against the Saracens and in doing

good to the poor, an angel announced to him that he had been chosen to

guard the Holy Grail, which was about to descend once more to earth,

and take up its abode on Montsalvatch. This vision sufficed to send

Titurel off on a quest for the Holy Mountain,--which some authorities

identify with the place of the same name on the east coast of

Spain,--whither he was safely led by a guiding cloud.

After ascending the steep mountain, Titurel was favored with a glimpse

of the Holy Grail, and he and a number of knights--also brought

thither by miraculous means--erected a marvellous temple, whose

foundations were laid by the angels, who labored at the edifice while

the volunteer builders were at rest. In a marvellously short time a

temple of transcendent beauty was thus finished, and, as soon as it

was consecrated, the Holy Grail stole down from heaven on a beam of

celestial light, to abide in its midst. Titurel, king and guardian of

the Holy Grail, always presided at the table around which his knights

gathered, and where one and all were miraculously fed. Besides, there

appeared from time to time on the edge of the sacred vase, in letters

of fire, instructions bidding a knight go out into the world to defend

some innocent person or right some wrong. The Knights of the Holy

Grail, or Templars, as they were indifferently styled, then

immediately sallied forth to fulfil this behest, which according to

their vows had to be accomplished without revealing their name or

origin. Once the command was that Titurel should marry, whereupon he

wooed a Spanish maiden, by whom he had a son and daughter. This son,

marrying in the same way, had in time two sons and three daughters,

one of whom became the mother of Parzival.

Old and weary of reigning, Titurel finally resigned the care of the

Holy Grail, first to his son,--who was slain in war,--and then to his

grandson Amfortas. But the latter proved restless also, went out into

the world, and, instead of serving the Holy Grail, lived a life of

pleasure and adventure. Wounded by a thrust from a poisoned

lance,--some authors claim it was the one which wounded the Saviour's

side,--Amfortas sadly returned to Montsalvatch, where the mere thought

of the veiled Holy Grail increased his pain by intensifying his

remorse. There, one day, he read on the rim of the cup, that his wound

was destined to be healed by a guileless fool, who would accidentally

climb the mountain and, moved by sympathy, would inquire the cause of

his suffering and thereby make it cease.

We have already mentioned the fact that Parzival was a great-grandson

of Titurel; his mother, fearing he would die young, like his father,

were he to become a knight, brought him up in seclusion, telling him

nothing about knights, fighting, or the world. Straying in the forest

one day this youth encountered a couple of knights, whom he mistook

for angels, owing to their bright array, and offered to worship. The

knights, however, refused his homage, and good-naturedly advised him

to hasten to Arthur's court and learn to become a knight too.

Parzival now left his mother,--who died of grief,--went to court

(meeting sundry adventures on the way), and there asked to be

knighted. He was told, however, he must first procure a horse and

armor, whereupon he followed and slew an insolent knight who defied

King Arthur. But Parzival did not know how to remove the armor from

his dead foe, until a passing knight obligingly showed him how it was

done.

Parzival now spent a time of apprenticeship at court where he learned

among other things, that a knight should never be unduly inquisitive,

then went to the rescue of a persecuted and virtuous queen, whom he

wooed and married. He soon left her, however, to visit his mother, of

whose death he was not aware. On his way home Parzival came to a lake,

where a richly dressed fisherman informed him he might find a night's

lodging in the castle on the hill, where he offered to conduct him.

Thus Parzival penetrated into the castle on Montsalvatch and was duly

led into the banqueting hall. Awed by the splendor of his

surroundings, the young candidate for knighthood silently noted that

his host seemed to be suffering from a secret wound, and perceived

that all the other guests were oppressed by overwhelming sadness. Then

suddenly the doors opened wide, and a strange procession entered the

hall, slowly circled around the table, and again passed out! In this

procession marched a servant bearing a bloody lance, at the sight of

which all present groaned, then came maidens carrying the stand for

the Holy Grail, which was reverently brought in by Titurel's

grand-daughter. The vase was, however, closely veiled, and it was only

after repeated entreaties from the knights present that the host

unveiled it, uttering the while heart-rending groans.

All present were now served with the food they most desired, which

they ate in silence, and then the knights marched out of the hall,

gazing reproachfully at Parzival, who silently wondered what all this

might mean. His hunger sated, Parzival was conducted to luxurious

sleeping apartments, but, when he was ready to leave on the morrow,

all the castle seemed deserted, and it was only when he had crossed

the drawbridge and it had been raised behind him, that a harsh voice

was heard vehemently cursing him. Shortly after, on learning that a

sympathetic inquiry would have dispelled the gloom in the palace, he

had just left, Parzival attempted to return, but the mysterious castle

was no longer to be found. Such was our hero's remorse for his sin of

omission that he continued the quest for years, doing meanwhile all

manner of noble and heroic deeds. In reward, he was knighted by Arthur

himself, and bidden by Merlin occupy "the Siege Perilous" where his

name suddenly appeared in letters of gold.

Our version of the story explains that, just as he was about to sit

down in the Siege Perilous, the witch Kundrie arrived, and hotly

denounced him as an unfeeling wretch, a sufficient reminder to make

Parzival immediately renew his quest. Adequate penance having been

done at last, and the young knight having stood every test without

losing his purity, Parzival was finally allowed to atone for his

unconscious fault. Once more he arrived at the castle, once more

entered the banquet hall, and once more beheld the mystic procession.

Strengthened by silent prayer, Parzival then asked the momentous

question; whereupon Amfortas' wound was instantly healed, the aged

Titurel released from the pain of living, Kundrie baptized, and

Parzival unanimously hailed as future guardian of the Grail, an office

he humbly yet proudly assumed.

Another legend claims that his son Lohengrin, ordered by the Holy

Grail to go and defend Elsa of Brabant, received from his father a

magic horn, by means of which he was to announce his safe arrival at

his destination, and to summon help whenever he wished to return.

Instead of riding a charger, Lohengrin was conveyed in a swan-drawn

skiff to Brabant, where he found Elsa praying for a champion to defend

her against Frederick of Telramund's accusation of having slain her

little brother, who had mysteriously disappeared.

Lohengrin, having proved the falsity of the charge by defeating the

accuser in a judicial duel, married Elsa, warning her she must never

seek to discover his name or origin, under penalty of seeing him

depart as suddenly as he had arrived. The machinations of Frederick of

Telramund, and of his artful wife, finally drove Elsa to propound the

fatal question, and, as soon as Lohengrin has sorrowfully answered

it, the swan appeared and bore him away! But, as Lohengrin departed,

Elsa's brother reappeared to serve as her protector.[32]

This--mostly German--version of the Grail legend--has been used by

Wolfram von Eschenbach for a long and famous epic, and by Wagner for

his operas Parzival and Lohengrin. In the French and particularly in

the English versions of the Quest for the Holy Grail, or Sangreal,

Percival is with the other knights of Arthur's Round Table when they

take this vow. He seeks for it, perceives it through a veil, but never

entirely achieves the quest, since that privilege is reserved for the

peerless Galahad.

The versions of the Holy Grail Story of which Galahad is hero run

about as follows: Galahad is the son of Launcelot and Elaine, the

latter's nurse having, by means of enchantment, made her to appear as

Guinevere--whom Launcelot loved. Deserted by the accidental father of

her coming child, this Elaine--daughter of King Pelles--took refuge in

a nunnery, where she gave birth to Galahad, whom when dying she

entrusted to the nuns. Brought up by those holy women and strengthened

in early infancy by frequent glimpses of the Holy Grail,--whose light

was blinding to all but the perfectly pure,--Galahad reached manhood

as pure as when he was born. One day Sir Launcelot and Sir Bors were

summoned from Camelot to a small church near by, to act as sponsors

for a young candidate for knighthood, who was presented to them by

some nuns. Launcelot and Bors, having thus heard Galahad take his

vows, were not surprised to see him brought into their midst on a gala

day, by Merlin or by the spirit of Joseph, and to hear him warmly

welcomed by Arthur. Some versions claim that Galahad, led to the Siege

Perilous, found his name miraculously inscribed on it in letters of

gold, and was told he alone should occupy that place at the Round

Table.

According to some accounts, it was while all the knights were thus

seated around Arthur's board on this occasion, that the Holy Grail

suddenly appeared in their midst, its radiance so veiled by its

coverings that one and all vowed--when it had disappeared--never to

rest until they had beheld it unveiled. Arthur, knowing this boon

would be granted only to the absolutely pure and that they were all

but one sinful men in various degrees, keenly regretted they should

have made a vow which would entail a hopeless quest, and would at the

same time leave him bereft of the very knights who had hitherto helped

him to right the wrong and keep the pagans at bay. The knights

hastened to church to receive a blessing before they departed, and

then went off, singly or in small groups, to seek the Holy Grail.

When Galahad arrived at Arthur's court, he was fully armed, save that

an empty scabbard hung by his side and that he bore no shield. Soon

after his arrival, a servant breathlessly announced he had just seen a

large block of stone floating down the river, into which a beautiful

sword was thrust to the hilt. On hearing this, Arthur and his knights

hurried down to the landing place, but, although the stone paused

there, neither the king nor any of the nobles at his court were able

to draw out the sword. It became evident it was intended for Galahad

only, when he easily drew it out of the stone. It was then, according

to this version, that the other knights pledged themselves to go in

quest of the Holy Grail. Riding off alone, Galahad came to an abbey,

where hung a white shield bearing a red cross, which he learned had

once belonged to the king of Sarras, who was converted by Joseph's

son. The red cross was drawn with blood, and was to remain undimmed

for its future bearer, Galahad.

The young champion, thus completely equipped, rode off and next

arrived at the enchanted Castle of the Holy Grail. There he saw

Titurel, the sleeping king, and Amfortas, the acting king, before whom

the Grail passed unseen because he had sinned. Silently Galahad

watched the mystic procession of bleeding spear, miraculous dish or

cup, and Seven-branched Candlesticks. Like Parzival he hesitated to

ask any questions, and failed to achieve the Holy Grail, because,

although possessing all other virtues, he could not entirely forget

himself for the sake of others and thus lacked true sympathy or

altruism. Thrust out of the Castle--like Parzival--he wandered through

a blighted country, where he met the Loathley Damsel, who in

punishment for her sins was turned loose into the world to work evil

to men. She hotly reviled Galahad for not having asked the momentous

question, and the youth, learning thus in what way he had been

wanting, solemnly vowed to return to the castle and atone for his

omission.

But meantime the enchanted Castle had vanished, and Galahad, the

Champion of Purity,--whose red color he always wears,--travelled

through the world, righting the wrong. He arrived thus at the gate of

a castle defended by seven knights,--the Seven Deadly Sins,--with whom

he struggled to such good purpose that he defeated them, and was free

to enter into the Castle of the Maidens, or place where the Active

Virtues have long been kept in durance vile. But, the door still being

locked, Galahad was glad to receive the key proffered by an old monk,

who, in the legend, personified Righteousness.

Galahad, the emblem of a pure soul, now penetrated into the castle,

where the maidens blessed him for setting them free, and where he

modestly received their thanks. Among these maidens was Lady

Blanchefleur, Galahad's match in purity, to whom he bade farewell as

soon as their nuptials were solemnized, for he realized The Quest

could be achieved only by a virgin knight.

Once more Galahad rides through the world, and this time he again

finds and enters into the castle of the Grail, where he once more

beholds the Sacred Mysteries. His heart full of sympathy for the

suffering Amfortas, he now overlooks the rules of formal politeness in

his desire to help, and propounds the decisive question. Immediately a

refulgent light shines forth from the veiled Grail in all its

life-giving radiance, and King Amfortas, healed of his sin, and hence

able to see the vessel, dies of joy, just as an angel bears the

priceless treasure away from the Enchanted Castle, where it is no

longer to sojourn.

Longing for the time when he too can see the Grail unveiled, Galahad

remounts his milk-white steed and rides through the world, where

everybody thanks him for freeing the world of the pall of darkness and

sin which has rested upon the land ever since Amfortas, titulary

guardian of the Holy Grail, sinned so grievously. Riding thus, Galahad

comes at last to the sea, where King Solomon's ship awaits him. This

vessel has been miraculously preserved for this purpose, and sent here

to convey him safely to Sarras, "the spiritual place." It is the

present home of the Holy Grail, which had already sojourned there

after the death of Joseph of Arimathea.

The ship in which Galahad embarks is steered by an angel, one of the

Guardians of the Holy Grail, and the cup it holds, although closely

veiled from profane glances, casts beams of refulgent light upon

Galahad and his companions Sir Percival and Sir Bors. They two,

however, not being perfectly pure, cannot clearly distinguish the

Grail, whose sight fills the soul of Galahad with ineffable rapture.

Before long the ship arrives at Sarras, the fabulous city, where

Galahad can hang up his sword and shield and take his well-earned

rest, for the Quest is at last achieved! The travellers are welcomed

by an old man, and, when the king of Sarras dies, the people

unanimously elect Galahad their next ruler.

After governing them wisely for a year, Galahad--who prayed in King

Solomon's ship that he might pass out of the world whenever he should

ask it--begged for the death of the body so he might find the eternal

life of the soul.

When he died, the Holy Grail, which had been piously guarded in

Sarras, returned to heaven, for Galahad's work was finished on earth,

as is indicated by the frescos of the Boston library, where angels

guard a Golden Tree of achievement whose branches reach right up into

heaven.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 32: See the author's "Stories of the Wagner Operas" and

"Legends of the Rhine."]

EPICS OF THE NETHERLANDS

In searching among Dutch masterpieces of literature we find that their

greatest epic is "Joannes Boetgezant," or John the Messenger of

Repentance. This epic in six books, on the life of John the Baptist,

was written in 1662 by Vondel, and bears many traits of resemblance to

Milton's Paradise Lost.

It has been conjectured that the most famous of all the animal epics

or beast fables originated in Flanders or Luxembourg, which for a time

was included in the Low Countries. This epic, which has been

translated into every European language and has even found its way

into the Far East, has been frequently remodelled. The oldest extant

MS. in Latin dates back to the eleventh or twelfth century. Among

modern versions the most clever, finished, and popular is Goethe's

"Reinecke Fuchs."[33]

In this poem he describes how the animals assemble at Whitsuntide to

complain to their king, Noble, the Lion, about the dark deeds of

Reynard the Fox. The main grievance is that of Isegrim, the Wolf, who

claims Reynard blinded three of his offspring and insulted his wife.

Speaking French, the Lapdog Wackerlos next pathetically describes how

he was robbed of a sausage, which the Tomcat vehemently declares was

his.

Having heard the depositions of the Wolf, the Dog, the Cat, the

Panther, and the Hare, Noble is about to sentence the delinquent, when

Grimbart, the Badger,--uncle of Reynard--rises to defend the accused.

Artfully he turns the tables and winds up his plausible peroration

with the statement that Reynard, repenting of all past sins, has

turned hermit, and is now spending his time in fasting, alms-giving,

and prayer!

Just as Noble is about to dismiss the case as non-proven, Henning the

Cock appears, followed by his sons, who bear on a litter the mangled

remains of a hen, strangled by Reynard, who slipped into the

chicken-yard in the guise of a monk.

The king immediately dispatches Brown the Bear to Malepartus to summon

Reynard to appear at court. On arriving at his destination, the Bear,

although still resenting the king's recommendations to be wary, allows

himself to be led to a half-split tree-trunk, within which Reynard

assures him he will find stores of honey to refresh himself. Just as

soon as the Bear's nose and forepaws are greedily inserted into the

crack, Reynard slyly removes the wedges and decamps, leaving the Bear

a prisoner and howling with pain.

His roars soon attract the peasant and his son, who beat the captive

until he wrenches himself loose, at the cost of some patches of skin

and of a few claws. The Bear, returning to court in this plight, is

taxed with stupidity and greed, and Hintze the Cat is sent to summon

Reynard to court. The Cat, hungry also, is led to a small opening in a

barn which Reynard declares is swarming with mice, but where the poor

Tomcat is caught in a trap, whence he escapes only after having

received a beating and lost one eye.

His woful report decides the king to send Grimbart the Badger to

summon his nephew to court. Reynard receives this emissary most

courteously, and, on hearing the king will raze his fortress if he

does not obey, sets out for court. On the way Reynard begs Grimbart to

act as his confessor, and, having unburdened his conscience, does

penance and receives absolution. But scarcely has this ceremony been

completed when Reynard, spying some fat hens, begins to chase them,

and is only with difficulty recalled to a sense of what is fitting.

On arriving at court, Reynard hypocritically regrets so many people

have slandered him to the king, and tries to refute every charge. He

is, however, sentenced to the gallows, but even on the road thither

devises a plan to escape. Pretending regret for his past, he humbly

begs the king's permission to address the spectators, and in a lengthy

speech describes how he was led astray in his youth by Isegrim the

Wolf. He also declares his only regret is to die before he can reveal

to the king the hiding-place of a vast treasure which would enable him

to outwit the plots of some rebels who are even now conspiring to kill

him. The king, hearing this, immediately orders a reprieve, and,

questioning the Fox in secret, learns that the conspirators are Brown

the Bear, Isegrim the Wolf, and others. To reward the Fox for saving

her husband's life, the queen now obtains his pardon, which Noble

grants in exchange for information in regard to the treasure.

Having given these indications, the Fox sets out on a pilgrimage to

Rome, escorted by the Ram and the Hare, which latter is slain as soon

as they arrive at Malepartus, where Reynard wishes to bid his family

farewell. After feasting upon the flesh of this victim, Reynard puts

his bones into a wallet and ties it on the Ram's back, bidding him

hasten back to court with this present and receive his reward!

Although circumstantial evidence is enough to convict the poor Ram of

murder, a few days later new complaints are made against Reynard by a

Rabbit and a Crow. Noble, roused again, prepares to batter down the

walls of Malepartus, and Grimbart, perceiving Reynard's peril, hurries

off to give him warning.

He finds Reynard contemplating some young doves, upon which he intends

to dine. On hearing what Grimbart has to say, Reynard declares it

would be easy to acquit himself could he only gain the king's ear long

enough to explain the real state of affairs. Then he again begs

Grimbart to act as his father confessor, and, resuming his confession

where he left off, makes a clean breast of all his misdeeds. Shortly

after this, Reynard meets the Ape, who tells him that should he ever

be in a quandary he must call for the aid of this clever ally or of

his wife.