Part 21 (1/2)
Brilliant white rocks composed its walls. The bold arched cupola, formed of innumerable stalact.i.tes, from the ends of which hung millions of small drops of water, reflected the light in all the colours of the rainbow. The surrounding rocks were thrown together in such happy confusion, as to give the imagination full scope to fancy it could discover in their grotesque shapes, here a chapel, having its high altarpiece ornamented with flowing drapery; there its corresponding pulpit of rich gothic architecture. An organ even was not wanting to complete the idea of a subterranean church, and the changing shadows thrown on the walls by the light of the torches, resembled the solemn figures of martyrs and holy men placed in niches.
The guide came down again from his position on the rock, after having, as he thought, sufficiently satisfied the curiosity of his companion.
”This is called the Nebelhohle, or the Misty Hollow,” said he; ”it is little known in the country, excepting to huntsmen and shepherds, and few venture to enter it, as all kinds of fearful stories are abroad of ghosts inhabiting its chambers. I would not advise any one who is not minutely acquainted with its locality to venture down, for there are deep cavities and subterranean waters, whence no one would see the light again, if once entangled amidst their intricacies. There are also secret pa.s.sages and compartments known only to five individuals now alive.”
”But the banished knight,” asked Albert, ”where is he?”
”Take the torch, and follow me,” replied the other, and led the way though a side pa.s.sage. They had proceeded about twenty paces, when Albert thought he heard the deep tones resembling those of an organ. He drew the attention of his leader to it.
”That is some one singing,” the fifer answered, ”the voice sounds particularly beautiful and full in these caverns. When two or three men join their voices together, it resembles the full chorus of monks chanting the _Ora_.” The music became still plainer; and as they approached the spot, the expressive feeling of a beautiful melody was distinctly heard. They were obliged to bend themselves under the corner of a rock, as they proceeded, when the voice of the songster sounded from above, and broke in repeated echo on the indentations of the wall of rock, until it was lost in the mingled noises of dripping water from the moist stones, and the murmur of a subterranean waterfall.
”That is the place,” said the guide; ”above there, in the side of the rock, is the habitation of the unhappy man. Hearken to his voice! We'll wait and listen till he has finished, for he never was accustomed to be interrupted, even when he lived above ground.” It was with great difficulty that they could catch the following words on account of the great echo and the murmur of falling and rus.h.i.+ng water.
The tow'r from whence my childhood gazed Upon the subject fields so fair, Now bears a stranger's banner, raised Where erst my father's fann'd the air.
To ruin sink my father's halls, The portion of my ancestry; O'erthrown and unavenged, the walls In earth's deep bosom buried lie.
O'er fields, where once in happier tide My jocund bugle horn I blew, The savage foemen fiercely ride: A n.o.ble quarry they pursue.
I am their game, the quarry chased; The slot-hound follows where he flies, Athirst the stag's warm blood to taste, Whose antlers[1] are the hunter's prize.
The murderers have bent their bow, They ransack forest, hill, and plain; Whilst clad in rags I nightly go A beggar on my own domain.
Where once I rode in lordly state, Whilst greeting va.s.sals bow'd the head; I fear to tap the cotter's gate, And beg in pity's name for bread.
From my own doors ye thrust me out; Yet will I knock while knock I can: All is not lost, if heart be stout: I bear a sword, I am a man.
I quail not: tho' my heart should break, I will endure unto the end; And thus my foes of me shall speak, ”This was a man, and ne'er would bend.”
A deep sigh, which followed the conclusion of the song, gave the hearers reason to suppose, that the burden of it had not afforded the unfortunate exile much consolation. A large tear had rolled down the tanned cheek of the man of Hardt as they stood listening; and Albert perceived the inward struggle which this good peasant seemed to contend with in order to compose his mind, and appear before the inhabitant of the cavern with a cheerful countenance. He requested the young man to hold his torch awhile; and clambered up the smooth, slippery rock which led to the grotto whence the sounds they had just heard had issued.
Albert supposed he had gone to acquaint the stranger of his arrival, but his guide returned with a strong rope in his hand. He descended half way down the rock again, threw one end of the rope to him, and desiring him to tie the torches on to it, he pulled them up, and placed them in a secure corner in the rock. He then a.s.sisted his young master to mount to the spot where he was standing, which he would not have been well able to accomplish alone. Once up there, they were only a few paces from the inhospitable abode of the exile.
We have attempted to describe this remarkable cavern according to its natural formation. Some further observations may be interesting to the reader. The entrance is about 150 feet in circ.u.mference; two paths, which form two natural excavations, one of 100 feet long, the other 82, lead from thence, and, taking different directions, meet again in the interior at the distance of about 200 feet. The place where they join forms a grotto, whence, on the right towards the north, higher up in the rock, is another smaller one, the spot to which we have led the reader, to the dwelling of the exile. The whole length of the cavern, from the entrance to the innermost point, is about 577 feet.
FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER XVIII.:
[Footnote 1: Referring, probably, to the arms of Wurtemberg.]
CHAPTER XIX.
The rugged rocks fantastic forms a.s.sume, Seen in the darkling of the midnight gloom; And the wild evergreens so dimly bright, Seem to reflect a kind of lurid light; This sight so strange may well our knight amaze, He stops, upon the witchery to gaze.
WIELAND.
The spot to which they had arrived in this large cavern, possessed one great advantage, that of being perfectly dry. The ground was covered with rushes and straw; a lamp hung on the side of the rock, which threw sufficient light on the breadth, and a great part of the length, of the grotto. Opposite the entrance sat the stranger upon a large bear skin, and near him stood his sword and a bugle horn; an old hat, and a grey cloak lay on the ground. A jacket of dark brown leather, and trowsers of coa.r.s.e blue cloth, covered his person; an unseemly costume, but which did not the less set off the powerful shape of his body, and the n.o.ble features of his countenance. He was about thirty-four years old, and his face might be called still handsome and pleasing, although the first bloom of youth was worn off by hards.h.i.+p and fatigue, and his beard having grown wild upon his chin, imparted to his look an air of severity. Albert made these fleeting remarks as he stopped at the entrance of the grotto.
”Welcome to my palace, Albert von Sturmfeder,” said its inhabitant, whilst he rose from his bear skin, and offering him his hand, begged him to take a seat beside him on a deer skin: ”you are heartily welcome,” he repeated. ”It was no bad thought of our friend the musician, to introduce you into these lower regions, and bring me such agreeable society. Hans, thou faithful soul! thou hast been our major domo and chancellor up to this moment, from henceforth we nominate thee our head-master of the cellar and purveyor-general. Look behind that pillar, and thou'lt find the remains of a bottle of good old wine. Take my beech-wood hunting-cup, the only utensil left us, and fill it up to the brim, to the honour of our worthy guest.”
Albert beheld the exiled man in astonishment; though he might have expected to find the energies of his mind unsubdued by the storms of life, still he was prepared to see him brooding over his misfortunes in sullen melancholy, driven by hard fate to seek shelter in these inhospitable regions. What, therefore, was his surprise to find him, on the contrary, cheerful and unconcerned, joking about his situation, just as if he had been merely overtaken by a storm in hunting, and had sought shelter from its violence in the grotto! It was a storm, indeed, more terrible than the fury of the elements which had driven him from the castle of his ancestors, for he was the prey that had taken shelter here from the shots of his murderous huntsmen.