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CHAPTER VI. HEIDELBERG AND THE BARON.
 High and hoar on the forehead of the Jettenbühl stands the Castle of Heidelberg. Behind it rise the oak-crested hills of the Geissberg and the Kaiserstuhl; and in front, from the broad terrace of masonry1, you can almost throw a stone upon the roofs of the city, so close do they lie beneath. Above this terrace rises the broad front of the chapel2 of Saint Udalrich. On the left, stands the slender octagon tower of the horologe, and, on the right, a huge round tower, battered3 and shattered by the mace4 of war, shores up with its broad shoulders the beautiful palace and garden-terrace of Elisabeth, wife of the Pfalzgraf Frederick. In the rear are older palaces and towers, forming a vast, irregular quadrangle;--Rodolph's ancientcastle, with its Gothic gloriette and fantastic gables; the Giant's Tower, guarding the drawbridge over the moat; the Rent Tower, with the linden-trees growing on its summit, and the magnificent Rittersaal of Otho-Henry, Count Palatine of the Rhine and grand seneschal of the Holy Roman Empire. From the gardens behind the castle, you pass under the archway of the Giant's Tower into the great court-yard. The diverse architecture of different ages strikes the eye; and curious sculptures. In niches5 on the wall of Saint Udalrich's chapel stand rows of knights6 in armour7, all broken and dismembered; and on the front of Otho's Rittersaal, the heroes of Jewish history and classic fable8. You enter the open and desolate9 chambers10 of the ruin; and on every side are medallions and family arms; the Globe of the Empire and the Golden Fleece, or the Eagle of the Cæsars, resting on the escutcheons of Bavaria and the Palatinate. Over the windows and door-ways and chimney-pieces, are sculptures and mouldings of exquisite12 workmanship; and the eyeis bewildered by the profusion13 of caryatides, and arabesques14, and rosettes, and fan-like flutings, and garlands of fruits and flowers and acorns15, and bullocks'-heads with draperies of foliage16, and muzzles17 of lions, holding rings in their teeth. The cunning hand of Art was busy for six centuries, in raising and adorning18 these walls; the mailed hands of Time and War have defaced and overthrown19 them in less than two. Next to the Alhambra of Granada, the Castle of Heidelberg is the most magnificent ruin of the Middle Ages.  
In the valley below flows the rushing stream of the Neckar. Close from its margin20, on the opposite side, rises the Mountain of All Saints, crowned with the ruins of a convent; and up the valley stretches the mountain-curtain of the Odenwald. So close and many are the hills, which eastward21 shut the valley in, that the river seems a lake. But westward22 it opens, upon the broad plain of the Rhine, like the mouth of a trumpet23; and like the blast of a trumpet is at times the wintry wind through this narrow mountain pass. The blue Alsatian hills rise beyond; and, on a platform or strip of level land, between the Neckar and the mountains, right under the castle, stands the city of Heidelberg; as the old song says, "a pleasant city, when it has done raining."
 
Something of this did Paul Flemming behold24, when he rose the next morning and looked from his window. It was a warm, vapory morning, and a struggle was going on between the mist and the rising sun. The sun had taken the hill-tops, but the mist still kept possession of the valley and the town. The steeple of the great church rose through a dense25 mass of snow-white clouds; and eastward, on the hills, the dim vapors26 were rolling across the windows of the ruined castle, like the fiery27 smoke of a great conflagration28. It seemed to him an image of the rising of the sun of Truth on a benighted29 world; its light streamed through the ruins of centuries; and, down in the valley of Time, the cross on the Christian30 church caught its rays, though the priests were singing in mist and darkness below.
 
In the warm breakfast-parlour he found the Baron31, waiting for him. He was lying upon a sofa, in morning gown and purple-velvet slippers32, both with flowers upon them. He had a guitar in his hand, and a pipe in his mouth, at the same time smoking, playing, and humming his favorite song from Goethe;
 
"The water rushed, the water swelled33,
 
A fisher sat thereby34."
 
Flemming could hardly refrain from laughing at the sight of his friend; and told him it reminded him of a street-musician he once saw in Aix-la-Chapelle, who was playing upon six instruments at once; having a helmet with bells on his head, a Pan's-reed in his cravat35, a fiddle36 in his hand, a triangle on his knee, cymbals37 on his heels, and on his back a bass-drum, which he played with his elbows. To tell the truth, the Baron of Hohenfels was rather a miscellaneous youth, rather a universal genius. He pursued all things with eagerness, but for a short time only; music, poetry, painting, pleasure, even the study of the Pandects. Hisfeelings were keenly alive to the enjoyment38 of life. His great defect was, that he was too much in love with human nature. But by the power of imagination, in him, the bearded goat was changed to a bright Capricornus:--no longer an animal on earth, but a constellation39 in heaven. An easy and indolent disposition40 made him gentle and childlike in his manners; and, in short, the beauty of his character, like that of the precious opal, was owing to a defect in its organization. His person was tall and slightly built; his hair light; and his eyes blue, and as beautiful as those of a girl. In the tones of his voice, there was something indescribably gentle and winning; and he spoke41 the German language, with the soft, musical accent of his native province of Curland. In his manners, if he had not `Antinous' easy sway,' he had at least an easy sway of his own. Such, in few words, was the bosom42 friend of Flemming.
 
"And what do you think of Heidelberg and the old castle up there?" said he, as they seated themselves at the breakfast-table.
 
"Last night the town seemed very long to me," replied Flemming; "and as to the castle, I have as yet had but a glimpse of it through the mist. They tell me there is nothing finer in its way, excepting the Alhambra of Granada; and no doubt I shall find it so. Only I wish the stone were gray and not red. But, red or gray, I foresee that I shall waste many a long hour in its desolate halls. Pray, does anybody live up there now-a-days?"
 
"Nobody," answered the Baron, "but the man, who shows the Heidelberg Ton, and Monsieur Charles de Grainberg, a Frenchman, who has been there sketching43 ever since the year eighteen-hundred and ten. He has, moreover, written a super-magnificent description of the ruin, in which he says, that during the day only birds of prey44 disturb it with their piercing cries, and at night, screech-owls45, and other fallow deer. These are his own words. You must buy his book and his sketches46."
 
"Yes, the quotation47 and the tone of your voice will certainly persuade me so to do."
 
"Take his or none, my friend, for you will find no others. And seriously, his sketches are very good. There is one on the wall there, which is beautiful, save and except that straddle-bug figure among the bushes in the corner."
 
"But is there no ghost, no haunted chamber11 in the old castle?" asked Flemming, after casting a hasty glance at the picture.
 
"Oh, certainly," replied the Baron; "there are two. There is the ghost of the Virgin48 Mary in Ruprecht's Tower, and the Devil in the Dungeon49."
 
"Ha! that is grand!" exclaimed Flemming, with evident delight. "Tell me the whole story, quickly! I am as curious as a child."
 
"It is a tale of the times of Louis the Debonnaire," said the Baron, with a smile; "a mouldy tradition of a credulous50 age. His brother Frederick lived here in the castle with him, and had a flirtation51 with Leonore von Luzelstein, a lady of the court, whom he afterwards despised, and was consequently most cordially hated by her. Frompolitical motives52 he was equally hateful to certain petty German tyrants53, who, in order to effect his ruin, accused him of heresy54. But his brother Louis would not deliver him up to their fury, and they resolved to effect by stratagem55, what they could not by intrigue56. Accordingly, Leonore von Luzelstein, disguised as the Virgin Mary, and the father confessor of the Elector, in the costume of Satan, made their appearance in the Elector's bed-chamber at midnight, and frightened him so horribly, that he consented to deliver up his brother into the hands of two Black Knights, who pretended to be ambassadors from the Vehm-Gericht. They proceeded together to Frederick's chamber; where luckily old Gemmingen, a brave soldier, kept guard behind the arras. The monk57 went foremost in his Satanic garb58; but, no sooner had he set foot in the prince's bed-chamber, than the brave Gemmingen drew his sword, and said quaintly59, `Die, wretch60!' and so he died. The rest took to their heels, and were heard of no more. And now the souls of Leonore and the monk haunt the scene of their midnight crime. You will find the story in Grainberg's book, worked up with a kind of red-morocco and burnt-cork sublimity61, and great melo-dramatic clanking of chains, and hooting62 of owls, and other fallow deer!"
 
"After breakfast," said Flemming, "we will go up to the castle. I must get acquainted with this mirror of owls, this modern Till Eulenspiegel. See what a glorious morning we have! It is truly a wondrous63 winter! what summer sunshine; what soft Venetian fogs! How the wanton, treacherous64 air coquets with the old gray-beard trees! Such weather makes the grass and our beards grow apace! But we have an old saying in English, that winter never rots in the sky. So he will come down at last in his old-fashioned, mealy coat. We shall have snow in spring; and the blossoms will be all snow-flakes. And afterwards a summer, which will be no summer, but, as Jean Paul says, only a winter painted green. Is it not so?"
 
"Unless I am much deceived in the climate of Heidelberg," replied the Baron, "we shall not have to wait long for snow. We have sudden changes here, and I should not marvel65 much if it snowed before night."
 
"The greater reason for making good use of the morning sunshine, then. Let us hasten to the castle, after which my heart yearns66."


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