The Departure of Lohengrin

It was Princess Elsa’s wedding-day. The sober old city of Antwerp had blossomed out in colors gay as a spring garden, with banners, ribbons, garlands of flowers, and triumphal arches. Not a burgher or a prentice but kept holiday. Royal weddings were not an everyday sight, more especially when the bride was a princess of such beauty and virtue, and the bridegroom a knight who had risked his life for her sake. Every maid in Antwerp would gladly have gone through fire and water just for a sight of the knight in silver armor. Greatly were those envied who had seen him arrive, drawn by the snow-white swan. The bells of the old cathedral rang out a joyful chime. From every quarter came a stream of people, all hurrying to secure the best places from which to see the bridal procession. Guarding the entrance of the cathedral, on either side, were stationed knights and nobles in full court dress, ablaze with medals and decorations, helmets and waving plumes. “She comes! She comes! Make way for the bride,” sang a chorus of voices. And Elsa appeared, more beautiful than a spring morning. Little children, clad in white, strewed her path with flowers. Maidens of high degree followed, bearing her bridal train. Never had a fairer, happier maid passed through the ancient doorway to become a bride. [Illustration: “THROUGH HEAVEN’S VICTORY, THY LIFE IS MINE!”—page 158 _From the painting by Ferdinand Leeke_] Smiling and bowing graciously, Elsa ascended the cathedral steps, when suddenly her way was barred by a tall commanding figure, who pushed through the astonished crowd and stood before her. It was Ortruda. “Back, I say!” she cried wrathfully. “Thinkest thou that I am going to follow thee, like a serving-maid! No longer will I suffer it! The time has come when thou shalt bow before me!” The attendants and courtiers stood aghast. “The woman must be mad!” they exclaimed to one another. Elsa could scarce believe that this was the same Ortruda who, a few hours before, had knelt in the dust at her feet. Pale and trembling she cried: “Ortruda! Is it possible? What has happened to change thee thus terribly?” Ortruda gave a mocking laugh. “Thinkest thou,” she answered, “that because I foolishly forgot my high position and my worth for one short hour, I must forever after approach thee crawling? My lord was first in all the land! Not a foe but feared his sword, not a tongue but spake his praise. But thy hero! No man ever heard of him! Thou thyself canst not even give him a name.” The people murmured indignantly: “Will no man silence this slanderous woman?” But all trembled, remembering her reputation as a witch, and not daring to brave her wrath. Fortunately at this moment appeared the king’s outriders, followed by the royal bodyguard, and King Henry himself, riding side by side with the bridegroom. “What! Ho!” cried the king, looking at the threatening figure standing across the bride’s path. “Who dares to make strife on a wedding morn?” Lohengrin hastened to Elsa’s side. “What do I see? Why is this terrible woman near thee?” he asked. “Oh, my deliverer, protect me from her! Pardon me, that I forgot thy warning. Seeing her in misery at my door last night, I took her in. Behold now how she turns on me, and mocks me for my trust in thee!” Lohengrin stood between Ortruda and the trembling Elsa. “Begone, thou fearful woman!” he cried. “Carry elsewhere thy poison. Here is no soil in which it can take root.” “Hold there!” cried a loud harsh voice. “O king, hearken, I pray. Greatly hast thou been deceived. The combat was no Heaven’s ordeal, for, by the evil power of magic, justice was turned aside. Here, before all men, I challenge him, the impostor, to declare his name and race, and from where he came, drawn hither by that unholy bird. If he dare not say, methinks it looks bad for his knightly truth and honor! I appeal to thee, illustrious prince! Demand thou a reply from this unknown hero. He will scarcely dare to call thee unworthy of his answer.” Lohengrin confronted the wrathful Telramund: “All honor would I ever show to his most illustrious majesty; but there is one only to whom I am bound to reveal my secret—that one is Elsa, my bride.” Lohengrin feared for one dread moment that the wicked Ortruda’s poison had, after all, begun to work. One moment only; then, to his joy, Elsa raised her head, and shaking off all doubt, she cried: “What he keeps secret, that he does in wisdom. She whom he has saved, shall she not trust him?” And the king added heartily: “My hero, pay no regard to evil-speakers. Thou art too far above them for such to tarnish thy spotless fame.” The nobles then pressed round Lohengrin, assuring him of their trust and devotion, even though he should never see fit to reveal his name; and the wedding procession entered the cathedral in solemn state. When the wedding-feast was over and the wedding-guests had gone, Elsa and Lohengrin sat at the window, looking out on the starlit night. Elsa sighed. A tiny cloud crept over her heart at the thought that she knew no name by which to call her love. Lohengrin noticed it and strove to turn her thoughts from the dangerous subject. But Elsa continued, as though forced to return to it: “Ah show thou thinkest me worthy of thy trust! Now that we are alone, tell me thy secret and let it be buried in my heart, safe, where never the world can reach it.” “Have I not shown thee highest trust?” answered Lohengrin. “I have trusted in thy promise. Now my greatest joy is in thy love. It is the only reward I ask for all I have left behind. For not out of night and sorrow did I come to thee, but out of light and glory.” “Alas!” cried Elsa. “Then art thou farther removed, and I yet more unworthy, than e’er I dreamt! Any day may rob me of thee! Ere long thou wilt surely regret thy humble choice, and long after thy departed glory.” Tears blinded her eyes. Lohengrin saw, too late, that what he had told her but increased her doubt and unhappiness. She longed now more than ever to be trusted with his secret. “The fear lest thou depart will haunt me day and night! Who is this unknown one? Whence comes he?” No peace now for Elsa, day or night, until she can answer. “Alas!” she cried, “it was by a miracle thou camest here! Thy path is hidden, like thyself, in mystery. Thy life is divided from mine by a cloud.” “Ah, look!” she cried, clutching wildly Lohengrin’s arm. “See the swan? He comes! There—down the river! He brings the boat! Thou hast called him!” “Oh, Elsa, cease this madness!” cried Lohengrin, in despair. “Nothing can give me peace again, till I know—even though it cost me my life—who thou art, and whence thou comest.” “Alas!” groaned Lohengrin, covering his face with his hands. So absorbed were they both, that they did not hear the stealthy tread upon the stair, nor the low, muffled voices outside the door. Suddenly there was a crash. The door was broken open, and a group of dark figures, cloaked and masked, barred the passage, while one of the number rushed towards Lohengrin, drawing his naked sword. It was the work of an instant. Lohengrin had but time to seize his sword, when the stalwart figure closed with him. In the flickering torchlight, he parried the foe’s first deadly thrust, and before he had time for a second, the trusty sword of Lohengrin had pierced to his traitorous heart. With a deep groan he fell back, and Elsa beheld, as she suspected, the face of Frederick of Telramund. Hearing the noise, Elsa’s attendants and guards now crowded into the room. The dark masked figures had fled on seeing their master fall. Lohengrin turned to the guards, and bade them bear the body of Telramund before the king’s judgment-seat. Then to Elsa’s attendants, who supported their fainting mistress, he said sadly: “Make her ready to appear before the king. There I will meet her, and answer her question—Who I am, and from whence I come?” At noon next day, King Henry held a review of his troops. Before leaving Antwerp, the king desired to collect forces for a war against the savage Drohns, who were threatening the peace of Germany. The king counted greatly on Lohengrin’s help, for never had he seen one more fitted to command and lead his troops. But now the appointed hour had come, and still the king waited for the arrival of the knight. Presently all were startled by the appearance of a solemn procession, bearing in their midst the body of a dead man. “Make way!” whispered the crowd, awestruck. “These are the followers of Telramund.” Close on them followed Elsa and her ladies. Alas, how changed from the happy bride of yesterday! “Ah, here he comes! Our hero!” cried the people, as Lohengrin at length appeared. “Welcome, sir knight,” said the king. “We look to thee to lead these brave troops on to victory.” “Alas, my lord the king!” answered Lohengrin, “it is not possible for me now to lead thy soldiers, as I hoped.” “Heaven help us! What means this?” cried the king, dismayed, not only at Lohengrin’s words, but by his sad, solemn bearing. “First, I ask thy righteous judgment, before all the people, concerning this man.” He pointed to the body of Telramund. “In the middle of the night, he fell on me unawares. Was I right in that I slew him?” “Thy hand was but the instrument of a just Heaven in so slaying him!” replied the king, sternly regarding the dead traitor. “Ye heard all how she, my bride, gave me her promise, that never would she ask who I am or from whence I came. Now, alas! she has broken that promise—she has listened to traitorous counsel! Now hear, all ye people, whether my secret is one to be ashamed of before king, nobles, and the world!” Lohengrin raised his voice till it rang on all sides like a clarion. “In the distant land, far from hence, is a mountain named Mount Salvat. In the midst stands a temple; none on earth can compare with its magnificence. Therein is guarded a sacred treasure, brought thither years ago by an angel-host. It is the Holy Grail. The knight who serves the Grail derives divine strength from the power of its might. Before him evil flies, and death itself is vanquished. Even when far away in distant lands, so long as the knight remains unknown, the Grail still renews his strength. But the working of the Holy Grail must ever remain veiled. Once the source of mystery is revealed, the blessings granted must be withdrawn—such is the Grail’s command. I was hither sent to you by order of the Grail. My father is Parsifal, the king—I am his warrior, Lohengrin!” Elsa listened like one hearing her death-sentence. Had not her ladies supported her, she must have fallen. “Oh, Elsa,” he cried mournfully, “why didst thou tear my secret from me? Now, alas, we are parted forever!” “The swan! The swan!” cried a chorus of voices near the bank of the river. Elsa turned to look, and there, sailing swiftly towards them, came the snow-white swan, drawing the small boat in which the shining knight had arrived. “Oh, my Elsa,” he said, “the Grail has sent for me—I dare not tarry. One year only, and I might have had the joy of seeing thee again united to thy long-lost brother. For he is not dead, and by the might of the Grail he was then to be restored to thee. Now hearken. Should he return, give him these—my sword and horn and ring. The sword will bring him victory in battle, the horn will bring him help in time of need, and the ring he shall wear in memory of me. Farewell, my beloved bride; farewell forever!”