What Really Happened Around the Mouse Tower at Bingen

     – By Eckehard Junge

Just down from Bingen, a lonely island in the middle of the Rhine carries a tower-like fortress, the so-called Mouse Tower. Not so-called because of this story, which would rather have earned for it the title of Rat Tower; but human memory is short and deplorably bent by wishful thinking, especially when it deals with the subject of cruel masters.

The legend reports of an Archbishop of Mainz, a black-hearted fellow named Hatto, down in the lost streams of a dark century. Hatto prided himself in great righteousness while extorting from the surrounding populace all that he could grab – without arousing too much attention from the eyes of papal and imperial controllers, who were all too content with a fat share and substantial bribes under the guise of friendship.

However, he assuaged the occasional pains of his conscience, all those dues were nothing but fair compensation for the heavy burdens of responsibility he had to carry, in trying to instill some God-fearing obedience on the part of unruly peasants and to preserve law and order in the face of armed robbery on the highways. In fact, he exerted great care in implementing each papal ordinance meticulously, and the written word of higher authorities was as sacred to him as the Holy Scriptures. Let them slave down in the valley, the poor sods, he said up in his pompous castle overlooking the Rhine, for this is but the fulfillment of the Scriptures; Man was born of original sin, and only by enduring all the pains of the earth could his soul be salvaged. And let them pay their dues, for this is but the rightful lot of lowly sinners, that the fruits of their efforts be given to wiser masters in lordly castles, the only worthy administrators of hard-won cultural refinements which may be handed down to luckier generations.

And fairness, oh yes, fairness, was written in glowing letters above all his deeds. A fair exchange was the only God-given grace that distinguished Man from the animals, and every little trinket or service had to be paid honestly down to the last penny. A mighty precise ledger was kept in his main office, and everybody was paid exactly for his services. No bill would escape the watchful eyes of Hatto's accountants, whether in-going or out-going, everything was collected and paid in painstaking accuracy.

And thus, the whole narrow world of this hard-hearted man seemed to be justified and solidly built upon the goodness and providence of God, Pope and Emperor. He could have been truly at peace, hadn't there been the uncanny fixation upon an unhappy love affair of his younger days which still clouded his mind.

A handsome junker he had been, provided with all the riches in the world by his noble father. Everything could be bought; yes, everything – but only until a fair-haired lady of good upbringing came along, a Margravine Maria of Baden; he had courted her with all his charms, but she stoutly refused. And as he could not win her love, he tried to buy it with a ruby ring, but still she scorned him, even after taking the ring. So in despair, he swore off impulsively to all worldly pleasures and turned to the Church, where he made a swift career due to his noble heritage. Then, at the age of twenty-eight, bestowed with the archdiocese of Mainz, he had the Mouse Tower built on the islet in the Rhine. He then invited Lady Maria to his castle, just for a friendly chat about the good old days. And lo and behold, she arrived, but instantly he forced her to surrender the ring, and had her carried off to the Mouse Tower, to lock her up and never release her again.

Hatto seemed to be in love with this ring upon his finger, as much as he had been in love with the Lady, but little did this do to quench his true desires. On many a warm summer evening, he could be seen on the highest balcony of his castle, looking over the Rhine to the fog-enshrouded Mouse Tower down below, heavily sighing from a love-ridden, congested chest.

And so it went for several years. Beautiful Lady Maria was suffering in captivity at the Mouse Tower, but despite all the good food, all the luxuries and entertainment that were brought to her, she never declined to grant the slightest favor to cruel Hatto, who came around occasionally to implore her. And there he sat again on his lonely balcony, staring down longingly at the tower in the river.

And the countryside groaned under the ever-mounting dues. And whatever the Archbishop did to uphold the God-given order of the world, he never won a single friend.

And then it came to pass on a grisly night in November, that the Archangel Gabriel appeared to Hatto in his study, all ablaze with heavenly glory and very convincing indeed as a heavenly messenger. "Look here", said Gabriel, "your soul is petrified by morbid love and mounting walls of pretended righteousness; you will need to reform, or else you are bound for eternal hellfire and damnation."

Hatto was struck with mortal fear by these piercing words of a supernatural apparition; but soon he got a grip on himself and stammered in his defense: "All I have done was to serve the greater glory of God, and the heart of Man is like stone; it will only bend to the exacting demands of law and order; an eye for an eye, and a penny for a penny, this is what I say. Nobody acts from love or friendship; there's not a single soul on earth that gives without a craving for return. You have my word for it."

Upon this hardy declaration, the towering angelic figure of gold changed before his very eyes in streaks of red and black, and emerged as the Devil himself. "You are a man of straight deals, dear Hatto", said the Devil, "and you shall see who I am, for I will make a bet with you. The stake shall be your living soul. No other price can pay for such matters. If all is well with what you say, you are a very justified man indeed; but if there is a single creature under the heavens to refute your arrogant law, your soul is mine forevermore in all its proven wrongness. And I mean you, dear Hatto; and I say unto thee, you'll pass the threshold of the very gates of Hell within three days from this moment, if I can catch you flat-footed with a single creature who would offer up anything to you without expressly asking for something in return. Otherwise, you can safely go on robbing the peasants as a just man, with a sure ticket to Paradise. Now do we have a deal?"

"I hardly think I have a choice", stammered Hatto, at present unable to differentiate the smallprint in this fiendish bet, "but from the very bottom of my heart, I am and must be convinced that all I said is true, so here you have my word; however, if you fail to prove your point, will you leave me alone for the rest of eternity?"

"You better believe it", said the Devil. "And you better watch out." With a thunderous mocking laughter, he smashed a lightning bolt into the floor, which cracked open to swallow him up among billowing clouds of brimstone smoke and blasting heat. The fiery cleft closed shut with a reverberating clap, leaving nothing but a ghastly stench as a reminder of the fateful event.

Hatto was gripped by searing panic; he called his chief attendant and instantly screamed at the white-faced man, ordering him, as of now, to stand guard in absolute silence in front of the private archbishopric chambers for three days in a row and not allow any living soul to approach his master; and only on the morning of the fourth day would anyone be permitted to come near again. And orders were to be passed that soldiers had to bar the entrance to the castle. "Now don't just stand there, you moron", he screamed at the miserable man, "get on with it! I cannot stand your face any longer!" And then he was alone. He locked the back door of his private kitchen and let out a sigh of relief.

And all went well. On the evening of the third day, Hatto stood in his little kitchen, far from the world, and pondered lovingly upon the ruby ring, which he had taken from his finger. "The Devil won't get us", he assured himself. "Nobody has approached me, and nobody will. Not that there is any danger of friendliness; it has never existed. But better be sure than sorry." He took another long slurk from his wine bottle. He was getting tipsy; at this moment, the ring slipped from his hand and fell through the grid of the sewer channel which he had proudly installed.

But it so happened that there were rats in the castle, and the leader of the pack was a huge, frightful bastard. The rats had long been feasting upon the wealth of the Archbishop, but little had he noticed, because his larders were always overflowing. On the other hand, the rats were so big and powerful that they had kept the palace clean of cats, a race of beings particularly hateful to the Archbishop. Any cat brought in by a thoughtful attendant wound up scraped clean to the bone by hungry hordes of rats. Not that anyone ever noticed.

But the master rat stumbled upon the ruby ring down in the sewer. "This is a lucky day", he thought, "for this might win me the express friendship of the lord of the household. Not that I would expressly ask for anything in return! But he would certainly be mighty glad to get it back, and of what use could a ruby ring be to a creature of my station?"

So using channels only known to rodents, the master rat appeared on the floor of the Archbishop's kitchen, just as the tall man lay sprawling upon the ground, sucking at his fifth bottle of ancient wine. Through his daze, he saw the rat laying down the ring in front of his face, with a humble expression he had never suspected could exist in all God's creation. And then he remembered the words of the Devil. And up he jumped, throwing a large piece of cheese onto a golden plate, gingerly offering it up to the giant rat. The rat, however, sneered at him, and scurried off in disdain, to vanish behind the cupboards. However loud the Archbishop screamed and pleaded, the rat would not return; and so the mighty man knew that he had lost his soul. He returned to his study and gave himself up to grief and further wine.

The Devil, now, to implement his insidious plan, whispered into the ears of the rat: "Well done, Chief of the Rats; now how about a little deal?" – "What's that?" replied the startled rat. – "How have you been doing lately for female company?" – "Well", said the stout rodent, "being the leader of the pack and all that, I find a lot of submission, but they never please me the way they should. Just look what an ugly bastard I am, they only do it for the bounty, but never for the sweet breath of mine, if you understand what I mean." – "I have a wonderful lady just for you", said the Devil. – "A human lady will hardly quench my desires", replied the chief rat in disgust. – "Oh, very well she would, if only you were transformed into a handsome man", offered the Devil. "I have a little task for you, and it might even fill the stomachs of all your tribe." – And the furry creature listened.

At the stroke of midnight, the master of the rats returned to the dim light of the Archbishop's private chambers. A single candle was burning upon the table, close to the heavy curtains. The Archbishop himself lay upon the floor in drunken stupor. The rat jumped up and toppled the candle. Very soon, the whole place was ablaze.

Aroused from the heat and fury of the fire, the Archbishop came upon his feet and knew that fate had struck. The bells were tolling for him indeed, and from all the corners of his vision, he could see an overwhelming flood of rats rushing towards him. He stumbled out through the back door, but the rats followed; he ran down the stairs, but he could not shake them off. Out into the street he raced, but his pursuers would not let him go, they emerged from all the sewers and back alleys to swarm after their prey. Down to the river he scrambled, throwing himself into the floods to try and reach the Mouse Tower; but even into the water, the greedy yellow-eyed creatures followed.

At the door of the Mouse Tower, the rats finally caught him, flicked into his robes and gnawed their way into his juicy, fatty flesh. High and loud he screamed for someone to open the door, but Lady Maria, being a captive, had no key, and he had forgotten his own in his burning study. And so Hatto was eaten, and the Devil took his soul, whatever that means, and had it transported straight to Hell.

The Chief of the Rats, however, burrowed his way under the door and entered the luxuriously fitted prison chambers of Lady Maria. She shrieked when she saw him; and she shrieked again when he suddenly grew and transformed into a stately man, the likes of which she had been dreaming about in long years of captivity. And so they fell in love.

And while the countryside blossomed under a good-hearted successor to the Archbishop Hatto, sailors upon the Rhine throughout the ensuing decades would hear those whispers of romantic conversation emerging from the gloomy height of the Mouse Tower. And so the place lived on in the imagination of the populace, though nobody ever dared to go near the uncanny structure.
 

Copyright © 1995 Eckehard Junge

Painting of the Mouse Tower: Nikolai von Astudin (1847–1925)

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