by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XVI
An Ancient Legend of the Rhine [The Lorelei]
The last legend reminds one of the "Lorelei"--a legend of the Rhine.There is a song called "The Lorelei."
Germany is rich in folk-songs, and the words and airs of several of themare peculiarly beautiful--but "The Lorelei" is the people's favorite. Icould not endure it at first, but by and by it began to take hold of me,and now there is no tune which I like so well.
It is not possible that it is much known in America, else I should haveheard it there. The fact that I never heard it there, is evidence thatthere are others in my country who have fared likewise; therefore, forthe sake of these, I mean to print the words and music in this chapter.And I will refresh the reader's memory by printing the legend of theLorelei, too. I have it by me in the _Legends of the Rhine_, done intoEnglish by the wildly gifted Garnham, Bachelor of Arts. I print thelegend partly to refresh my own memory, too, for I have never read itbefore.
THE LEGEND
Lore (two syllables) was a water nymph who used to sit on a high rockcalled the Ley or Lei (pronounced like our word _lie_) in the Rhine, andlure boatmen to destruction in a furious rapid which marred the channelat that spot. She so bewitched them with her plaintive songs and herwonderful beauty that they forgot everything else to gaze up at her, andso they presently drifted among the broken reefs and were lost.
In those old, old times, the Count Bruno lived in a great castle nearthere with his son, the Count Hermann, a youth of twenty. Hermann hadheard a great deal about the beautiful Lore, and had finally fallen verydeeply in love with her without having seen her. So he used to wander tothe neighborhood of the Lei, evenings, with his Zither and "Express hisLonging in low Singing," as Garnham says. On one of these occasions,"suddenly there hovered around the top of the rock a brightness ofunequaled clearness and color, which, in increasingly smaller circlesthickened, was the enchanting figure of the beautiful Lore.
"An unintentional cry of Joy escaped the Youth, he let his Zither fall,and with extended arms he called out the name of the enigmatical Being,who seemed to stoop lovingly to him and beckon to him in a friendlymanner; indeed, if his ear did not deceive him, she called his name withunutterable sweet Whispers, proper to love. Beside himself with delightthe youth lost his Senses and sank senseless to the earth."
After that he was a changed person. He went dreaming about, thinkingonly of his fairy and caring for naught else in the world. "The oldcount saw with affliction this changement in his son," whose cause hecould not divine, and tried to divert his mind into cheerful channels,but to no purpose. Then the old count used authority. He commanded theyouth to betake himself to the camp. Obedience was promised. Garnhamsays:
"It was on the evening before his departure, as he wished still once tovisit the Lei and offer to the Nymph of the Rhine his Sighs, thetones of his Zither, and his Songs. He went, in his boat, this timeaccompanied by a faithful squire, down the stream. The moon shed hersilvery light over the whole country; the steep bank mountains appearedin the most fantastical shapes, and the high oaks on either side bowedtheir Branches on Hermann's passing. As soon as he approached theLei, and was aware of the surf-waves, his attendant was seized with aninexpressible Anxiety and he begged permission to land; but the Knightswept the strings of his Guitar and sang:
"Once I saw thee in dark night, In supernatural Beauty bright; OfLight-rays, was the Figure wove, To share its light, locked-hair strove.
"Thy Garment color wave-dove By thy hand the sign of love, Thy eyessweet enchantment, Raying to me, oh! enchantment.
"O, wert thou but my sweetheart, How willingly thy love to part! Withdelight I should be bound To thy rocky house in deep ground."
That Hermann should have gone to that place at all, was not wise; thathe should have gone with such a song as that in his mouth was a mostserious mistake. The Lorelei did not "call his name in unutterablesweet Whispers" this time. No, that song naturally worked an instantand thorough "changement" in her; and not only that, but it stirred thebowels of the whole afflicted region around about there--for--
"Scarcely had these tones sounded, everywhere there began tumult andsound, as if voices above and below the water. On the Lei rose flames,the Fairy stood above, at that time, and beckoned with her right handclearly and urgently to the infatuated Knight, while with a staff inher left hand she called the waves to her service. They began to mountheavenward; the boat was upset, mocking every exertion; the waves roseto the gunwale, and splitting on the hard stones, the Boat broke intoPieces. The youth sank into the depths, but the squire was thrown onshore by a powerful wave."
The bitterest things have been said about the Lorelei during manycenturies, but surely her conduct upon this occasion entitles her to ourrespect. One feels drawn tenderly toward her and is moved to forget hermany crimes and remember only the good deed that crowned and closed hercareer.
"The Fairy was never more seen; but her enchanting tones have often beenheard. In the beautiful, refreshing, still nights of spring, when themoon pours her silver light over the Country, the listening shipperhears from the rushing of the waves, the echoing Clang of a wonderfullycharming voice, which sings a song from the crystal castle, and withsorrow and fear he thinks on the young Count Hermann, seduced by theNymph."
Here is the music, and the German words by Heinrich Heine. This song hasbeen a favorite in Germany for forty years, and will remain a favoritealways, maybe. [Figure 5]
I have a prejudice against people who print things in a foreign languageand add no translation. When I am the reader, and the author considersme able to do the translating myself, he pays me quite a nicecompliment--but if he would do the translating for me I would try to getalong without the compliment.
If I were at home, no doubt I could get a translation of this poem, butI am abroad and can't; therefore I will make a translation myself. Itmay not be a good one, for poetry is out of my line, but it will servemy purpose--which is, to give the unGerman young girl a jingle of wordsto hang the tune on until she can get hold of a good version, made bysome one who is a poet and knows how to convey a poetical thought fromone language to another.
THE LORELEI
I cannot divine what it meaneth, This haunting nameless pain: A tale ofthe bygone ages Keeps brooding through my brain:
The faint air cools in the glooming, And peaceful flows the Rhine, Thethirsty summits are drinking The sunset's flooding wine;
The loveliest maiden is sitting High-throned in yon blue air, Her goldenjewels are shining, She combs her golden hair;
She combs with a comb that is golden, And sings a weird refrain Thatsteeps in a deadly enchantment The list'ner's ravished brain:
The doomed in his drifting shallop, Is tranced with the sad sweet tone,He sees not the yawning breakers, He sees but the maid alone:
The pitiless billows engulf him!--So perish sailor and bark; And this,with her baleful singing, Is the Lorelei's gruesome work.
I have a translation by Garnham, Bachelor of Arts, in the _Legendsof the Rhine_, but it would not answer the purpose I mentioned above,because the measure is too nobly irregular; it don't fit the tune snuglyenough; in places it hangs over at the ends too far, and in otherplaces one runs out of words before he gets to the end of a bar. Still,Garnham's translation has high merits, and I am not dreaming of leavingit out of my book. I believe this poet is wholly unknown in Americaand England; I take peculiar pleasure in bringing him forward because Iconsider that I discovered him:
THE LORELEI
Translated by L. W. Garnham, B.A. I do not know what it signifies. ThatI am so sorrowful? A fable of old Times so terrifies, Leaves my heart sothoughtful.
The air is cool and it darkens, And calmly flows the Rhine; The summitof the mountain hearkens In evening sunshine line.
The most beautiful Maiden entrances Above wonderfully there, Herbeautiful golden attire glances, She combs her golden hair.
With golden comb so lustrous, And thereby a song sings, It has a tone
sowondrous, That powerful melody rings.
The shipper in the little ship It effects with woe sad might; He doesnot see the rocky slip, He only regards dreaded height.
I believe the turbulent waves Swallow the last shipper and boat; Shewith her singing craves All to visit hermagic moat.
No translation could be closer. He has got in all the facts; and intheir regular order, too. There is not a statistic wanting. It is assuccinct as an invoice. That is what a translation ought to be; itshould exactly reflect the thought of the original. You can't _sing_"Above wonderfully there," because it simply won't go to the tune,without damaging the singer; but it is a most clingingly exacttranslation of _Dort Oben Wunderbar_--fits it like a blister. Mr.Garnham's reproduction has other merits--a hundred of them--but it isnot necessary to point them out. They will be detected.
No one with a specialty can hope to have a monopoly of it. Even Garnhamhas a rival. Mr. X had a small pamphlet with him which he had boughtwhile on a visit to Munich. It was entitled _A Catalogue of Pictures inthe Old Pinacotek_, and was written in a peculiar kind of English. Hereare a few extracts:
"It is not permitted to make use of the work in question to apublication of the same contents as well as to the pirated edition ofit."
"An evening landscape. In the foreground near a pond and a group ofwhite beeches is leading a footpath animated by travelers."
"A learned man in a cynical and torn dress holding an open book in hishand."
"St. Bartholomew and the Executioner with the knife to fulfil themartyr."
"Portrait of a young man. A long while this picture was thought to beBindi Altoviti's portrait; now somebody will again have it to be theself-portrait of Raphael."
"Susan bathing, surprised by the two old man. In the background thelapidation of the condemned."
("Lapidation" is good; it is much more elegant than "stoning.")
"St. Rochus sitting in a landscape with an angel who looks at hisplague-sore, whilst the dog the bread in his mouth attents him."
"Spring. The Goddess Flora, sitting. Behind her a fertile valleyperfused by a river."
"A beautiful bouquet animated by May-bugs, etc."
"A warrior in armor with a gypseous pipe in his hand leans against atable and blows the smoke far away of himself."
"A Dutch landscape along a navigable river which perfuses it till to thebackground."
"Some peasants singing in a cottage. A woman lets drink a child out of acup."
"St. John's head as a boy--painted in fresco on a brick." (Meaning atile.)
"A young man of the Riccio family, his hair cut off right at the end,dressed in black with the same cap. Attributed to Raphael, but thesignation is false."
"The Virgin holding the Infant. It is very painted in the manner ofSassoferrato."
"A Larder with greens and dead game animated by a cook-maid and twokitchen-boys."
However, the English of this catalogue is at least as happy as thatwhich distinguishes an inscription upon a certain picture in Rome--towit:
"Revelations-View. St. John in Patterson's Island."
But meanwhile the raft is moving on.
