Great Stories from the German Romantics. Ludwig Tieck

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СКАЧАТЬ to turn off the rod. Nor is this enough; but portents are also issuing from the Earth, and breaking mysteriously from the depths below, even as the light shines frightfully on us from above. Have you never heard of the Hill, which people call the Hill of Venus?”

      “Never,” said Eckart, “far as I have travelled.”

      “I am surprised at that,” replied the old man; “for the matter is now grown as notorious as it is true. To this Mountain have the Devils fled, and sought shelter in the desert centre of the Earth, according as the growth of our Holy Faith has cast down the idolatrous worship of the Heathen. Here, they say, before all others, Lady Venus keeps her court, and all her hellish hosts of worldly Lusts and forbidden Wishes gather round her, so that the Hill has been accursed since time immemorial.”

      “But in what country lies the Hill?” inquired Eckart.

      “There is the secret,” said the old man, “that no one can tell this, except he have first given himself up to be Satan’s servant; and, indeed, no guiltless person ever thinks of seeking it out. A wonderful Musician on a sudden issues from below, whom the Powers of Hell have sent as their ambassador; he roams through the world, and plays, and makes music on a pipe, so that his tones sound far and wide. And whoever hears these sounds is seized by him with visible yet inexplicable force, and drawn on, on, into the wilderness; he sees not the road he travels; he wanders, and wanders, and is not weary; his strength and his speed go on increasing; no power can restrain him; but he runs frantic into the Mountain, from which he can nevermore return. This power has, in our day, been restored to Hell; and in this inverse direction, the ill-starred, perverted pilgrims are travelling to a Shrine where no deliverance awaits them, or can reach them any more. For a long while, my two sons had given me no contentment; they were dissolute and immoral; they despised their parents, as they did religion; but now the Sound has caught and carried them off, they are gone into unseen kingdoms; the world was too narrow for them, they are seeking room in Hell.”

      “And what do you intend to do in such a mystery?” said Eckart.

      “With this crutch I set out,” replied the old man, “to wander through the world, to find them again, or die of weariness and woe.”

      So saying, he tore himself from his rest with a strong effort; and hastened forth with his utmost speed, as if he had found himself neglecting his most precious earthly hope; and Eckart looked with compassion on his vain toil, and rated him in his thoughts as mad.

      It had been night, and was now day, and Conrad came not back. Eckart wandered to and fro among the rocks, and turned his longing eyes on the Castle; still he did not see him. A crowd came issuing through the gate; and Eckart no longer heeded to conceal himself; but mounted his horse, which was grazing in freedom; and rode into the middle of the troop, who were now proceeding merrily and carelessly across the plain. On his reaching them, they recognised him; but no one laid a hand on him, or said a hard word to him; they stood mute for reverence, surrounded him in admiration, and then went their way. One of the squires he called back, and asked him: “Where is my Conrad?”

      “O! ask me not,” replied the squire; “it would but cause you sorrow and lamenting.”

      “And Dietrich!” cried the father.

      “Name not their names any more,” said the aged squire, “for they are gone; the wrath of our master was kindled against them, and he meant to punish you in them.”

      A hot rage mounted up in Eckart’s soul; and, for sorrow and fury, he was no longer master of himself. He dashed the spurs into his horse, and rode through the Castle-gate. All drew back, with timid reverence, from his way; and thus he rode on to the front of the Palace. He sprang from horseback, and mounted the great steps with wavering pace. “Am I here in the dwelling of the man,” said he, within himself, “who was once my friend?” He endeavoured to collect his thoughts; but wilder and wilder images kept moving in his eye, and thus he stept into the Prince’s chamber.

      Burgundy’s presence of mind forsook him, and he trembled as Eckart stood in his presence. “Art thou the Duke of Burgundy?” said Eckart to him. To which the Duke answered, “Yes.”

      “And thou hast killed my son Dietrich?” The Duke said, “Yes.”

      “And my little Conrad too,” cried Eckart, in his grief, “was not too good for thee, and thou hast killed him also?” To which the Duke again answered, “Yes.”

      Here Eckart was unmanned, and said, in tears: “O! answer me not so, Burgundy; for I cannot bear these speeches. Tell me but that thou art sorry, that thou wishest it were yet undone, and I will try to comfort myself; but thus thou art utterly offensive to my heart.”

      The Duke said: “Depart from my sight, false traitor; for thou art the worst enemy I have on Earth.”

      Eckart said: “Thou hast of old called me thy friend; but these thoughts are now far from thee. Never did I act against thee; still have I honoured and loved thee as my prince; and God forbid that I should now, as I well might, lay my hand upon my sword, and seek revenge of thee. No, I will depart from thy sight, and die in solitude.”

      So saying, he went out; and Burgundy was moved in his mind; but at his call, the guards appeared with their lances, who encircled him on all sides, and motioned to drive Eckart from the chamber with their weapons.

      To horse the hero springs,

      Wild through the hills he rideth:

      “Of hope in earthly things,

      Now none with me abideth.

      My sons are slain in youth,

      I have no child or wife;

      The Prince suspects my truth,

      Has sworn to take my life.”

      Then to the wood he turns him,

      There gallops on and on;

      The smart of sorrow burns him,

      He cries: “They’re gone, they’re gone

      All living men from me are fled,

      New friends I must provide me,

      To the oaks and firs beside me,

      Complain in desert dead.

      There is no child to cheer me,

      By cruel wolves they’re slain;

      Once three of them were near me,

      I see them not again.”

      As Eckart cried thus sadly,

      His sense it pass’d away;

      He rides in fury madly

      Till dawning of the day.

      His horse in frantic speed

      Sinks down at last exhausted;

      And naught does Eckart heed,

      Or think or know what caused it;

      But on the cold ground lie,

      Not СКАЧАТЬ