Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg Castle

by Adolf Hausrath

"A pretty good deal," replied the architect laughing, "I must cobble Serapis' boots, Jupiter's eagle will be minus a tail if I do not treat him to a little mortar, Cupid is in danger of losing his head, for which you are perhaps responsible, Faith and Hope are in pretty good condition, but Charity has lost her nose, and Samson must have a new jawbone of an ass. You see, that you could hardly remain in this Schloss without me."

"Do go, how can you joke in such danger."

"By the eyes of the Madonna, I do not joke. Do you wish for a Cupid without a head, and a Charity without a nose?"

"I do not wish to have anything to do with either, but so that I may not keep you any longer in your break-neck position, permit me to shut the window."

"No, as you have asked for permission, that I cannot suffer. Rather give me a more gracious farewell, by telling me at what hour evening service begins in the Castle-Chapel? I should much like to hear my brother preach, as he has become so sparing of his words since he has come over to you."

"Magister Laurenzano preaches?" asked Klytia terrified, her heart seeming to stop.

"Yes," replied Felix smiling, "and do you know when?"

"Evening service begins at six," said Klytia shortly, "and I hope you may get down in safety," and with hasty trembling hands she closed her window. Felix looked after her in astonishment, and then shaking his head he began his journey downwards lost in thought. Klytia had hastened to a back room, as if she felt there better protected from her own thoughts. She arranged the room, but soon forgot where she had placed the different articles, so that she had to look for them again. Sad and discontented she sat down once more to her work. The little room felt close, for the rays of the setting sun poured into it. She re-opened the window. Outside all was still and Felix had taken away the ladders, so she felt secure from intrusion. With beating heart she took up her work. Never again would she see the man, who though bound down by dark vows had nevertheless sought her love. Soon the first among the worshippers came out of the doors of the Castle which led across to the Chapel. Her female friends looked up at her to see whether she would not join them. She drew back into the room. The bells began to chime. It was the only church music, which the Kurfürst permitted "for the nonce" as he said, even the organ had to give way to the general reformation. Klytia heard the booming tones with heavy heart, it seemed as if they tolled for a funeral, whether her own, or his, she knew not. When the bells ceased, and all around was silent in the large court, a sudden shiver passed over her, it took away her breath, she felt she must hasten into the air. Outside she heard the singing, and as in a dream she took her hood and cloak, and prayerbook in hand, she as if drawn in against her will, entered into the house of God in which preached this terrible man, and crept into the last row near the door where she hoped to remain concealed from his diabolical gaze. Was it the magic of the bells, that had drawn her thither, had the Psalms possessed that power, or had she gone to seek him, from whose eyes she sought to shield herself by hiding behind the pillar? The clergyman ascended the pulpit and read out the prayers. As Felix after a while looked in the direction where sat Klytia he noticed that she had moved more forward in her seat, and now endeavoured to catch Master Paul's eye.

Felix looked around the lofty Chapel in an absent and disgusted manner. Was this the celebrated Church of the Heidelberg castle, the wealthiest at that time of all the Rhenish provinces? The high gothic arches had been whitewashed, the paintings ruthlessly daubed over disclosed themselves, however, here and there to the practised eye of the artist. A large spot at the entrance marked the place, where the font had once stood, another in the chancel the broken down altar. Without any regard to the architecture of the building the benches had been grouped in a square, in the middle of which stood, a most ludicrous object to Felix, "the honorable table." A part of the congregation turned their backs to the chancel which remained unused without Altar or Crucifix. The colored windows had been replaced by plain glass, and angrily did Felix gaze through those at the blue sky, as he asked himself what could have become of the famed glass paintings, to restore which known Masters had spent great portions of their lives? Even the old Heidelberg school of singing, which had once possessed a building of its own at the foot of the Schlossberg had disappeared. The people shouted in chorus, as appeared best to each individually. When the singing was over, the Preacher read out his text in a soft, melodious voice and laid the book aside with a graceful motion. Then he passed his white hand over his pale lips and began his sermon. His silvery melodious tones rang through the Church, at times like the monotonous melancholy murmur of a fountain, at other times rising to the majestic roll of thunder, but in the midst of the loudest blast of this rhetorical hurricane, the voice suddenly once more assumed a low loving tone which doubly touched the heart. These homiletic sounds moved Felix in no sense. He looked at the disposition of the benches, he thought to himself, how otherwise they would have looked if dimly lighted by the colored windows of the chancel filled with the smoke of incense, buried in the shadows of dark side chapels and the semi-light of deep niches. Gradually he mastered his indignation sufficiently to turn his attention to the words of the Preacher, who moved about the pulpit with the confidence of a trained orator and the innate grace of an Italian. He had bent over the edge of the pulpit, the white ruff stood up, and he resembled with his outstretched arms a bird about to take its flight. In speaking colors he described the dangers of life, the dependency of the defenceless heart. A world of despondency lay in his mournful tones. "Nowhere a consolation or support, not in ourselves for the heart is a hardened, deceitful, unreliable thing; not in others, for they are like unto ourselves; not in the world in general, for it belongs not to the good, but to the wicked. Where then is a refuge, salvation, a sure foundation on which we may depend?" A pause aroused the expectations and gave the oppressed hearts time to become conscious of their own anguish. Then the Preacher continued with a movement of the hand, which showed how near the blessing was at hand. "Behold the Church, thy mother, thy guide, thy protector and consoler under all difficulties."

Felix out of humor looked about him. "We all know how that is done," thought he. He again watched the congregation. The few men were heedless, the children restless, but the women hung with all the more attention on the lips of the young orator. When Felix again listened his brother was depicting the punishment of the other world. "They will be tortured through all eternity, says the Scriptures. How long is an eternity?" he then asked with as steady a look at his congregation as if he required of them a positive answer. "Let us suppose that this high lofty mountain lying towards the east, be made of polished steel and that every thousand years a bird came and pecked with its little beak this steel mountain and then flew away. How many thousands of years would it require ere the mountain was pecked to pieces? Or let us suppose that a large lake stretches from these hills here to yonder Haardt mountains, and that every thousand years a gnat came and sucked up through its little trunk as much water as it required to still its thirst, how many thousands of years would this little insect require to suck up the whole lake? When the bird has picked away the mountain, and the gnat drunk up the lake, that will not even be a millioneth part of an eternity, the Scripture however says: they will be tortured throughout all eternity."