Zigzag Journeys in Northern Lands Part 23

'He listened and looked; it was only the cat: But the bishop he grew more fearful for that; For she sat screaming, mad with fear At the army of rats that were drawing near.

'For they have swam over the river so deep, And they have climbed the sh.o.r.es so steep; And up the tower their way is bent, To do the work for which they were sent.

'They are not to be told by the dozen or score; By thousands they come, and by myriads and more: Such numbers had never been heard of before, Such a judgment had never been witnessed of yore.

'Down on his knees the bishop fell, And faster and faster his beads did tell, As, louder and louder drawing near, The gnawing of their teeth he could hear.

'And in at the windows, and in at the door, And through the walls, helter-skelter they pour, And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor, From the right and the left, from behind and before, From within and without, from above and below, And all at once to the bishop they go.

'They have whetted their teeth against the stones; And now they pick the bishop's bones: They gnawed the flesh from every limb; For they were sent to do judgment on him!'

"We pa.s.sed ruin after ruin which the boatman said were 'robber castles.'

"'And what do you mean by _robber_ castles?' asked Herman.

"'The old lords of the Rhine used to collect tolls from the vessels that pa.s.sed their estates. The tax was regarded as unjust, and hence the lords were themselves called robbers, and their castles robber castles.'

"One of these castles, called the _Pfalzgrafenstein_, is said to resemble a stone ship at anchor in the river. It was formerly a rock, with one little hut upon it, and it was a.s.sociated with a touching incident of history.

"Louis le Debonnaire, the son of Charlemagne, became weary of state-craft and the crown. He felt that his end was near. He desired to die where he could hear the waves of the Rhine. He was taken to this rock, and there with the ebb of the river his troubled life ebbed away.

"Most of the old castles are built on the narrows of the river. These narrows are between high rocks and rocky hills. They are in the Middle Rhine, or between Mayence and Bonn. The Middle Rhine has some thirty conspicuous castles on its banks. It is sometimes called the Castellated Rhine, and its narrows are termed the Castellated Rhine Pa.s.s.

[Ill.u.s.tration: VIEW ON THE RHINE.]

"On, on we drifted. Every high rock seemed a gateway to some new scene of beauty; wonder followed wonder.

"And now the water seemed agitated. Dark rocks projected into the river; the view was intercepted.

"The boatman conversed in an animated way with me, and I looked up to a high rock with an interested expression and an incredulous smile.

"He turned to us quietly and said,--

"'This is the Lorelei Pa.s.s.'

"He presently added,--

"'That is the Lorelei.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LORELEI.]

THE WONDERFUL STORY OF THE LORELEI.

Who has not heard it, repeated it in verse, echoed it in song?

It is the best known of the Rhine tales, not because it is the most interesting, but because it is a.s.sociated with the n.o.blest scenery of the river, with poetry and music. It is hardly equal to such legends as the "Drachenfels" and the "Two Brothers," but it is lifted into historic prominence by its a.s.sociations.

Still the story is richer in incident than the mere song would indicate. The origin and development of the popular legend is as follows:--

In the shadowy days of the Palatines of the Rhine,--shadowy because of ignorance and superst.i.tion,--the boatmen among the rocks above St. Goar on the Rhine used to fancy that they could see at night the form of a beautiful nymph on the "Lei," or high rock of the river.

Her limbs were moulded of air; a veil of mist and gems covered her face; her hair was long and golden, and her eyes shone like the stars. Her robe was blue and glimmering like the waves, decked with water flowers and zoned with crystals. She was most distinctly seen by pale moonlight.

They called this recurring vision of mist and gems Lore, the enchantress. They believed that her favor brought good luck, but her ill will destruction.

Nothing could be more natural than for the simple fishermen to think that they saw a form of mist, very bright and lovely, above the rocks at night, when once the story had been told them.

In the days of superst.i.tion such a story was sure to grow.

It was said that this Undine of the Rhine, the enchantress Lore, had a most melodious and seductive voice. When she sang those who heard her listened spellbound. If the boatmen displeased her, she entranced them by her song, and drew them into the whirlpools under the rocks, where they disappeared forever. To the landsmen who offended her, she made the river appear like a road, and led them to fall over the rocks to destruction. With all her beauty and charms, she was the evil genius of the place.

Herman, the only son of the last Palatine, a youth of some fifteen summers, was delicate in health. Instead of devoting himself to chivalrous exercises, he gave his attention to music and song.

One night he and his father were descending the Rhine, when he felt an inspiration come over him to sing. His voice was silvery and flute-like, and breathed the emotional sentiment of the heart of youth. As the boat drew near the Lei, Lore, the enchantress, heard the song, and she herself became spellbound by the sentiment and deep feeling expressed in the mellifluent music.

She tried to answer him, but her voice failed.

As Herman grew to manhood his ill health disappeared, and his character changed. He became rugged and manly, and abandoned the arts for the chase, horsemanship, and the preparations for martial contests.

He became a renowned hunter. He rode the wildest steeds, and ventured into places and merrily blew his horn where no huntsman dared follow him.

The enchantress Lore, from the time she had heard his song, disappeared from the rocks. The change that came over his person and character seemed like enchantment: was the siren invisibly following him?

And now a strange thing began to startle him by its mystery. When alone, crossing a wild mountain or a ravine, he would seek to keep up a communication by shouting through his hands,--

"Hillo-ho-o-o-o!"

Immediately a sweet voice would answer,--

"Ho-o-o-o!"

He would follow the sound.

"Hillo-ho-o-o-o!"

"Ho-o-o-o!"

It always led him towards the Lei.

He became alarmed at this occurrence. He believed that he was followed by a spirit, and that a spell was upon him, which boded destruction. He resolved to abandon the chase and devote himself to the arts again.

He was sitting by the window of the castle on a summer evening. A purple mist lay on the forests and river, and the moon poured her light over it, making all things appear like an enchanted realm.

He heard a nightingale singing in the woods. Did ever a bird sing like that? He listened. There was a witchery in the song. He rose and went into the woods. The song filled the air like a shower of golden notes. He followed it. It retreated. He went on. But the song, more and more enchanting and alluring, floated into the shadowy distance. He found himself at last on the Lei.

He beheld there a dazzling grotto, full of stalact.i.tes, and a nymph of wondrous beauty on a coral throne. He felt his being thrill with love. He was about to enter the grotto, when, oh thought of darkness and horror! the recollection of the enchantress came to him, and he crossed his bosom and broke the spell. He hurried home with a beating heart.

But the temptation and vision had proved fatal to him. He was never himself again. He dreamed constantly of Lore. All his longings were for her.