The Legend of Mount Pilate, A
Superstition
Superstition is to this day a strong characteristic of
the inhabitants of the Alps. A reason for this, is easily found in the various
and imposing phenomena of Nature, to which these simple mountaineers
are daily and nightly witnesses. A storm, which on the
plains would scarcely attract attention, offers at each instant, in these
lofty and diversified regions, some new and appalling spectacle. Each
clap of thunder finds a thousand echoes, and is reverberated almost
to infinity. The lightning's flash plays not only above, but about and
underneath the beholder. Here a roaring torrent dashes past him
down the precipitous rocks, driving all before it in its impetuous
course; there a sudden whirlwind uproots the sturdy monarch of the
forest, and bears it aloft, as though it were a feather on the breeze.
The heavy cloud, which one moment envelopes the poor shepherd in
its vapoury folds, in the next is seen rolling its dense masses over the
lower earth, hundreds of fathoms beneath his feet. Nor are the
calmer sublimities by which he is at other times surrounded less
calculated to speak to his imagination than the loud voice of the
bellowing tempest. The plaintive murmuring of the vernal breeze amid
the lofty pines; the deep silence of the summer's burning noon; the
fantastic changes of the fleecy cloud, whose form is varied by every
pinnacle of the mountain; the hollow and mournful moaning of the
autumnal gusts as they scatter far and wide the falling leaves; the
bright beam of the resplendent moon, across which each jutting crag
throws some grotesque shadow; and above all, the mist, which, rising
from the plains a mere mass of dull and dank vapour, here first appears
to receive life, and takes innumerable shapes and forms, incredible
to those who have never witnessed its airy evolutions! These
are the ever-varying phantasmata of nature that pass in scenic succession
before the eyes of the Alpine peasant, and add fresh fuel to
the fire of his superstitious inclinations.
It was in scenes of this inspiring character that Ossian
saw his shadowy armies, his warrior ghosts, his visionary maids, and heard the
wild music of their aërial harps. And although from the imperfectness
of our nature, we are all liable to have "our eyes made the fools
of the other senses," yet is it in these cloud-capped regions alone that
the illusions are always of a dignified order, and that poetry spreads
her veil of enchantment over the dull realities of life.
Such was the nature of my reflections after I had retired
to rest upon the night before my intended pilgrimage to Mount Pilate; and,
having made them, I slept soundly until the bright beams of a July
sun darting in at my latticed window gave me notice of the morning's
growth. I arose from my bed of leaves and rushes, and, strolling forth
into the open air, tasted the delicious sweetness of the hour. Never
do I remember a more enchanting prospect than here met my view.
It seemed as if Nature had proclaimed a universal holiday. She was
abroad in her gala dress; while Spring and Summer, her vernal and
blooming handmaids,—the former lingering as though loth to quit her
mistress, the latter rushing to anticipate her call,—appeared on either
side of her, and strewed her rosy path with freshness and fragrance.
The dews of night, glistening in the first rays of the slanting
sun, spangled the green carpet of the earth; and the tall pines, ever
the first to greet the morning breeze, gracefully bowed their dark
heads to welcome day's return. Far across the intervening lake, the
flocks and herds were seen winding slowly up the mountain's side in
search of their wholesome pasture; while the simple harmony of their
bells, mingling with the wild song or whistle of their urchin conductors,
came upon my ear over the still waters in distant snatches, and
formed, with the loud melody of the feathered minstrels close around
me, a rural concert in happiest unison with the scene. A tap on the
shoulder from my venerable conductor aroused me from my reverie.
Our preparations were soon made; and with a small wallet destined to
contain the necessary provision for such a journey, and each a long
staff, pointed at one end and hooked at the other, such as is required
for the ascent and descent of the precipitous paths we were to tread,
we commenced our march. We proceeded first to Brunnen, where
we took water upon the fairest of Switzer's lakes, and before sunset
arrived at Lucerne, the town from which it takes its name. The next
morning we were again afoot betimes, and, as we jogged along, I obtained
the result of my companion's long gleanings in this fruitful land
of romance and superstition.
"First," said he, "with regard to the name
of this celebrated mountain. Some have thought that it obtained the designation of
Mount Pilate from a tradition of its having been formerly peopled by a
band of Roman deserters, who sought refuge among its almost inaccessible
rocks,—the Latin word pila having been often used to signify
a mountain-pass; others, that it is a corruption from pileus, a hat,
because its bald summit is often covered by a complete cap of clouds,—and
hence the old proverb so often quoted in this country,
"'Quand Pilate a mis son chapeau,
Le temps sera serein et beau.'
But the explanation drawing most largely upon the liberal
credulity of the simple inhabitants of the Underwald, and therefore sure to be
the best received, is the following amusing fable:
"Pontius Pilate having been condemned to death for
his crimes, to avert the shame of a public execution, committed suicide. His
body being found, was by the enraged multitude fastened to an immense
weight of stones, and thrown into the Tyber. But the spirit
of that noble river, outraged by her waters being made the deposit of
so foul a carcase, from that hour rose in foam and torrent to resent
the injury; and, interesting great Nature in her behalf, the most
frightful storms and whirlwinds, with hail, thunder, and lightning,
ravaged the whole country from the Mediterranean shores to the opposite
Adriatic; nor did the elemental uproar cease until the terrified
inhabitants, by dint of the greatest exertions, dragged the body up
again, and in all haste caused it to be conveyed as far as Vienne in
Dauphiny, and there anew committed to the deep.
But what was the consequence? The Rhone would no more suffer such an
insult than had the Tyber; and its blue waters, swelling with the indignity
offered them, overflowed their natural banks, and rushed with headlong
rapidity, as if to fly the spot of pollution. No bark could live an
instant on the tremendous waves, which now so frightfully disguised
this hitherto calmly majestic stream; and the Dauphinois, like the
Romans, had no remedy for the crying evil, but, as they had done, to
rid themselves and their river of such an ill-omened guest. This was
at length accomplished: but the noble Rhone, although cleansed of
his 'filthy bargain,' could not so easily forget the deep affront; and
yearly, at that very season, he has ever since marked his undying
resentment by a repetition of the same angry demonstrations. Meantime
the offending cause of all this tribulation was secretly transported
to Lausanne, and there condemned to a third watery grave. Why a
preference so little flattering was given to this beautiful spot, is not
known; but certain it is that its inhabitants, being made acquainted
with the new arrival, presaged but little good to their 'placid Leman'
from so confirmed a disturber of the silent waters, and before his presence
could have time to create its usual uproar, and thus prevent or
impede such a measure, the body was once more brought to land;
and, a council being held, it was then determined that a small and
isolated lake,
situated near the summit of the Frakmont, should be
the chosen place of interment. Being situated at a good forty leagues
from their city, they would at least have little to dread from his future
operations; and the bleak and barren nature of the soil surrounding
his new residence would, as they hoped, neutralize, if not entirely
destroy, his baneful influence.
"There, then, he was finally deposited; but soon this desolate
region, as though doubly cursed by his coming, felt the dire effects of
his sojourn. The lake itself turned black; and its surrounding shores,
infected by the noxious vapours which it now emitted, could no
longer yield a wholesome herbage, but became one huge and marshy
swamp, where the rankest weeds alone could thrive. The surface of
the water was covered with the blanched bodies of its finny inhabitants;
the water-fowl that used to haunt its banks no sooner came
within its unhealthful precincts than they shared the universal doom,
and fell dead upon the earth; the venomous snake lay stiffening in
the sun, conquered by a superior poison; and the slimy toad expired
in a vain attempt to crawl from an atmosphere too fetid even for his
loathsome nature.
"The peasants, from their hamlets in the neighbouring plains,
had marked the striking change in the appearance of the mountain's top,
which, instead of standing out clear against the blue sky, was almost
always enveloped in a shroudy mist, or, if for a short period it could rid
itself of that encumbrance, still appeared like a heavy blot upon the surface
of the earth, reflecting no single ray of that bright sun which beamed
on all around it. Convinced that such a sudden change could proceed
but from some supernatural cause, a thousand speculations were hazarded
as to what was actually going on at the summit itself; and at length
one among them, more hardy than the rest, set out, determined to explore
the mystery. His presumption, however, was awfully punished;
for although, by dint of an extraordinary courage, he returned to his
anxious friends, yet the sights he had seen, the fright he had endured,
and the bodily exertions he had used to quicken his descent, were too
much for him. It was permitted only that he should relate to the
throng crowding around him the pestilent appearances of the once
beautiful little lake, and then ague-fits, convulsions, and a raging
fever ended the poor wretch's mortal struggles.
"Whether the circumstances of this intrusive visit added
fresh fuel to the demon's rage, or whether the moment was now come when,
having no longer within his reach any living object on which to vent
his diabolical vengeance, he became impatient of his watery incarceration,
certain it is that, from the very day of the luckless villager's
return, new sounds and sights of horror and desolation startled the
whole country around. A hollow rumbling noise, as of distant thunder
or a smothered volcano, issued, with scarcely a minute's intermission,
during the hours of light, from the mountain's summit; while the
deep silence of midnight was suddenly broken by shrieks and yells so
hideous and piercing, that, compared with them, the war-whoop of a
whole nation of Whyndots or Cherokees would have seemed soft
music. Thus were announced to the affrighted listeners the terrific
struggles then making by the foul spirit to burst his liquid bonds. At
length, one luckless morn, he succeeded in his attempt to breathe
again the free air; and his first feat was to celebrate the unholy triumph
by a storm that hid the sun's face from the world during eight
and forty hours, being the exact number of days of his forced sojourn in the lake.
"It seemed, from his remaining afterwards on this bleak
and desolate station, either that his infernal art could not compass his entire
removal from the mountain, or that he preferred it to the low grounds
on account of the advantage which its elevated situation gave him to
direct the tempests, and with greater certainty to launch the fires
of destruction upon those particular parts of the country from which
he was at the moment pleased to select his victims. Whichever of
these was the cause of his stay, he, at any rate, by force, or by choice,
did remain there for some hundreds of years; during the whole of
which period he continued more or less, and by every means within
his fell power, to vent his undying rage upon the hapless peasantry
and their little possessions. In the midst of the most terrific of the
storms with which it was his custom to visit the valleys below, the
phantom himself would sometimes be for a moment visible to one or
other of the terror-struck shepherds, and then some dreadful mortality
among his flocks and herds was sure to be the lot of the luckless
wight by whom the apparition had been seen.
"Once, during a dreadful hurricane that tore up the largest
trees by the roots, and scattered ruin and dismay abroad, the grisly fiend
was plainly seen perched upon the very highest pinnacle of his rocky
dominion, in desperate conflict with a second unearthly being, who,
by the violent gesticulations displayed on both sides, could be no
other than his once mortal enemy, the renowned King Herod. In
short, nothing could exceed either in variety or extent, the mischief
caused to the pastoral inhabitants of the two cantons of Lucerne and
Underwald by this 'Lord of the Black Mountain,' the name by which
their demoniac tormentor was universally known. It gave them,
therefore, joy beyond expression when their good genius at last sent
them some hope of deliverance from the evil power, in the person of
a pious and learned doctor, who, being informed of the devastation,
agreed to try conclusions with the imp of Satan. This champion in
the good cause was a celebrated brother of the Rosy Cross, who had
already taken the highest degrees in the university of Salamanca, and
who, having dived deeper than his fellow students into the mysteries
of the far-famed Bactrian sage, possessed a reputation that placed
him almost on a level with Zoroaster himself. Like a good alchymist,
gold was the ultimate object of his philosophical researches; and for a
sufficient sum, (to obtain which many a poor peasant was deprived of
his last kreutzer,) he undertook to rid the country of what had been
so long a scourge to it.
"He set out accordingly for the conflict; but alone and
unarmed, having refused all aid or guidance but such as his sacred mission
and his hidden knowledge gave him. The combat was long and obstinate,
but never for a moment doubtful. Arrived at the mountain's summit,
the Rosicrucian took up his station on a commanding point of the
rock, and called upon the phantom to appear before him. This simple
summons remaining unnoticed, he proceeded to a display of his cabalistic
powers, and finally brought the stubborn offender into his presence;
but not until the force of his mystic conjurations had torn the
huge fragment on which he stood from its solid base, and left it
balancing on a mere point, where, indeed, it may to this day be seen,
a trembling memento of that awful hour.
"Unable to make head against the superior prowess of
his opponent, the malignant spirit sought safety in flight but was pursued
by the victorious astrologer, who, coming up with him again on the part
of the mountain now called the Hill of Widerfield, renewed the contest
with fresh vigour; and so furious were the attack and defence on
this spot, and so violent the arts of exorcism to which the reverend
champion had recourse, that the grass beneath their feet was burnt
up as by the fire of heaven, and has never since recovered from the
unnatural blight. Success at length crowned the efforts of the holy
father, who, however, was forced to consent to a sort of honourable
capitulation on the part of the vanquished. It was therefore finally
agreed between them, that the spectre should return to his watery
sepulchre, there to remain inactive during three hundred and sixty-four
days in every year. On Good Friday alone he was to be permitted
to walk abroad, clothed in those magisterial robes which he
was wont to wear when living; even then, however, pledging himself
not to overstep the limits of the mountain's summit, and never, unless
provoked by previous violence or insult, to do harm to aught that had existence.
"This settled, he mounted a coal-black charger, which,
as a ratification of their solemn treaty, was presented to him by his conqueror,
and which on starting struck his hoof into the neighbouring rock, and
left to all eternity its huge print there. Then, with a noise that
resembled the hissing of an army of serpents, he plunged into the
lake and disappeared; nor has he ever since been known to violate
the engagements then incurred by showing himself to the world, save
on the anniversary of the day above mentioned, or when irritated
beyond his bearing by the language of abuse or some overt act of
aggression, such as the throwing of stones or other substances into
his prison-lake. The treaty thus broken, he has never failed to exercise
the power still left him, and to evince his anger by some terrific
storm or inundation, which would shortly after, and generally in the
very midst of the brightest and clearest weather, suddenly proclaim
his sense of the insult offered him.
"In consequence of these infractions, by the ignorant
or the disobedient, of a treaty solemnly entered into, a general order was
issued by the competent authorities, interdicting all persons whatsoever,
under severe pains and punishments, from making the ascent of this
mountain without a special permission to that effect, from the chief
magistrate of the district, who at the same time was to appoint proper
and trustworthy guides, they being answerable with their lives for
the attention of the whole party to certain prescribed rules.
The shepherds, too, by whom the lower part of the Pilate was peopled,
were obliged every year to appear before a certain tribunal, and to
take an oath that they would make no attempt to visit these prohibited
regions.
"Things remained nearly in this state until the event of
the Reformation; after which both Catholic and Protestant united to remove
from the minds of the vulgar, prejudices which ages of ignorant habits
had tended to fix on them. Among the rest, in the year 1585, one
Muller, the curé of Lucerne, having appointed a day for that purpose,
and invited all who were willing so to do to accompany him, set
out on an expedition to the summit of Mount Pilate, and was followed
thither by some hundreds of his parishioners. Arrived at the so
much dreaded lake itself, he proceeded to throw into it, stones, blocks
of wood, and missiles of various descriptions, accompanying the action
with words the most likely to provoke the wrath of the redoubted fiend;
but, to the surprise of the assembled multitude, who had beheld with
affright the audacious ceremony, all remained silent,—neither sound
nor sight replied to the daring invocation, and the sky was not in
consequence overcast by a single cloud. In order to follow up the partial
light which he had thus let in upon the darkness of ages, the
worthy curé soon afterwards obtained an order from the government
of Lucerne, authorizing the draining of the lake itself,—a work which
was actually begun in the year 1594, but to which a want of the necessary
funds, and other minor causes, put a stop before it could be
entirely accomplished."
I have thus repeated at some length the fabulous
histories which I that day learned during our long and laborious ascent to the
summit of the mountain in question; and I will now only add, that the various
scenes therein alluded to, as having been the theatre of the phantom's
exploits, were pointed out to me by my companion; nor could I avoid
perceiving, by the fondness with which he dwelt rather upon the
superstition itself, than such refutation as followed it, that he
was himself in no slight degree tinged with the popular belief. |